Sheankelor was nice enough to beta this for me (us) so you'll have to endure less of my awful mistakes from now on. Isnt she great? She is great. Thank you dear *hugs*


VII: Soft Feathers

The week went by in a blur. Harry could barely tell the days apart anymore, the only thing he knew that it wasn't yet Sunday. Holloway, the girl he was supposed to teach non-verbal spell casting, managed to get better by the end of the lesson with Harry's help, so now Harry was suddenly not just a student getting ready for his N.E.W.T.s but also an assistant learning in depth theories of the Dark Arts and in the defence against them. Wallace, as he promised tried not overload Harry, but it was still hard to teach the others something that came to him almost instinctively.

Next to his extra tasks for Wallace, he still had his practices with Ron and Hermione. At night, after they were done with their homework, they would go out and seek an empty room, where Hermione would open her many books and make Harry practice more advanced magic than he had ever come across with. It was not just a single spell anymore. Complex, interweaving series of charms and jinxes, proper duelling techniques and many more difficult topics occupied their nights.

He could barely spend time with Ginny. Their worries back in June about not having enough time for each other, and their promise to always find some seemed nothing more than a dream, a vision they caught a glimpse of in the heart of the setting sun.

When Harry was free, done with homework and Wallace, too when not even Snape's doe demanded that he followed her, Ginny was out there getting soaking wet in the Quidditch field. When Ginny sat down next to him in the Common Room late at night chatting about what happened to her, he could barely listen, or hold a conversation he was so tired from yet another fight with either Snape or Hermione and Ron.

There never seemed to be enough time, there was always something more important, and they could barely find a moment alone. Problems, like the dark clouds outside, seemed to only gather higher and higher.

"Mr. Potter, are you here with me?" Wallace asked with a small smile.

"Oh, yes," Harry shook his head to clear it. His thoughts seemed to be more and more occupied with the troubles with Ginny. He could feel there was something wrong, even though she never said a bad word. In fact, she was very understanding.

Harry placed the rest of the books onto the smaller pile, then gathered them up and carried them over to Wallace's desk.

"So, this will be my light reading?" He asked, eyeing the mound of heavy, thick tomes.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, but you'll have plenty of time to finish them, I promise. And I repeat, if you ever feel overexerted-"

"Just let you know, and you will give me a free pass. I know, sir, you told me a million times." Harry grinned.

Wallace grimaced and winced. "Ah, I hate it."

"What?" Harry asked back surprised.

"All this sir, and Professor Wallace, titles and everything. Ah, it makes me feel so old."

Harry laughed and gave his professor a scrutinizing look. He did not look old, actually. He was still fairly young, probably even a few years younger than Snape.

"My students used to call me Archie," he grinned with a shrug. "I was teaching in the United States before I came here."

"Archie," Harry repeated the name. It wasn't as weird as it would be to call McGonagall on her first name or even Snape. It actually fit the man a lot more than Professor Wallace.

"You think, we could make that catch somehow?" Professor Wallace asked beaming hopefully.

Harry grinned, "I think you need to check with Professor Snape, before you allow something indecent like that."

He meant it only as a joke, but Wallace's expression suddenly darkened. Gone was the playfulness from his brown eyes and it seemed he had just aged a decade over half a second.

He turned away from Harry as he murmured, "Yeah, yeah I will."

He sat behind his desk and Harry didn't know whether he should go there or leave him be. His curiosity once again won.

"Archie?" He asked tentatively.

Wallace looked up, a hesitant smile crossing his face. "I'm sorry, Harry, it's just…"

"Why do you hate Professor Snape so much?"

"You're too young, you can't understand…" Wallace said, turning away.

"Too young, am I?" Harry asked back astounded. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but do you know who I am?"

That made Wallace chuckle, but then he leaned forward and his expression turned dark and cynical.

"I know who you are. What you need to understand is that there are many things you have not experienced yet, Harry Potter."

"Like what? Losing someone? I grew up without my parents, in a house where the best-case scenario was that my relatives did not talk to me."

"You have friends that love you, you have arms to hold your sweetheart, you have a heart that is capable to love."

"And I'm very grateful for all those things. But that does not mean I didn't fight for them, or I wouldn't understand why you hate Professor Snape."

"Tell me, Harry, have you ever felt such crippling pain, such utter devastation that it broke your inhibitions? Have you ever been so angry that you felt like an animal? That you wanted to tear into flesh, shred everything to pieces, destroy even yourself?"

"No," Harry said quietly. "And I hope I never have to. I don't know what happened between you two, but Professor Snape is not the man you think him to be, just because he has the mark. It was a long time ago, it was a mistake. And he did everything to correct it. It took me years to learn that."

"That is your opinion, and I can respect that," Wallace said. "It will not change mine, however."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, sir," said Harry feeling suddenly every bit as angry as on the day when he watched Wallace pointing his wand at Snape. "But Professor Snape saved my life countless times. After all that, I cannot let anything bad happen to him."

"I understand that, Potter," Wallace said after a long pause. His tone was colder now; Harry's threat, it seemed, was not left unnoticed.

o.O.o

Ginny's hand almost tore into his hair, as she kissed him wildly. Harry kissed back, but this was the first time he felt it was mostly out of duty, of knowing this was what he was supposed to do. If Ginny kissed him, he kissed back and that was how things worked. That was the order of things in a normal world.

Except now, as they kissed and Ginny's hand went down to his cock, Harry's eyes weren't open because of surprise or the need to look her in the eyes as she touched him. It was because he was checking the time.

He still had fifteen minutes with her. He tried kissing Ginny again, but it just didn't feel good, at least not as good as he thought it should feel, how good it was supposed to feel. Instead of her, his mind was on Snape and their lesson in less than half an hour. Harry couldn't wait to learn Animagic. Since he had lost Quidditch, this was the first thing that filled him with the same excited anticipation as the sport used to.

Ginny let go if him, her eyes casting sparks. "At least you could pretend you care," She said, angrily.

"Come on, Gin," Harry said pacifying. "You know I care. I'm a little distracted."

"I was excited, you know that I could spend some time with you. Do you even know when was the last time we were together? It was weeks ago, Harry. Weeks ago." She said. She was close to crying.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Harry tried to apologize, but she pulled away. "It's just, there is so much…"

"I know, Harry. Being Wallace's assistant is hard and demanding, and whatever you do with Snape, tires you more than Quidditch has ever done. I can see it. It's just… I hoped that… I hoped that being with me makes you at least as excited, as being with Snape."

"I am excited," Harry said, knowing full well that it was a lie.

"Harry," Ginny hissed as a cat, "you kiss like a tree."

"That's unfair and you know it," Harry said quietly.

She had angry tears in her eyes now. "You know what's unfair? That the only time we get to be together, you're not really here."

"Ginny, come on," Harry tried calming her. "I'm here, right here."

He reached out, trying to touch her, but she jerked away.

"You're miles away Harry. You're either with Wallace learning to be the perfect little assistant, or with Snape letting him do Merlin knows what to you." She said emotionlessly. "What is it? Why are you covered in bruises? Does he beat you?" She asked, disgusted.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, of course not." Harry answered.

When she didn't say anything, Harry gave her a cold glance, then turned around. "I have to go, Gin. We'll talk later."

He stormed out of the classroom where they had retreated to enjoy each other for a while, then all but run up to the Headmaster's office. Snape had owled him earlier today about the password, but Harry still had doubts it would work.

The gargoyle looked at Harry expectantly.

Hesitant, Harry said, "Lemon drops?" The gargoyle slid away, and Harry ran up the staircase.

He was still early, but he didn't feel like staying with Ginny any longer at the moment. He could only hope Snape wouldn't mind. He knocked on his door and right away, he heard the professor's deep voice.

"Enter."

Harry walked in. Snape was, once again sitting behind his desk, calm and not glimmering at all. For that Harry was very thankful. It had been a while since he saw Snape like this. They usually only met for their fights.

"Good evening, sir," he said and sat down as well. "If you don't mind me asking… Lemon drops?" He smiled curious.

"I had to pick something no one would guess."

"For some unexplainable reason, he hates lemon drops. Can you imagine that, Harry?" Said a serene voice from above.

"Hi, Professor Dumbledore," Harry grinned at the portrait.

"Go back to sleep, Albus," murmured Snape, then took a deep breath and leaned on the table.

"Mr. Potter, to learn Animagic is not an easy feat," he started his speech. "It requires high concentration, without that it is futile that we even attempt to do it. There are three parts to becoming an animal. First you need to imagine how you would look."

Harry nodded. "I know what I want to look like."

"Tell me."

"Almost like Hedwig, just with green eyes instead of yellow. I could have my scar as the identification mark, like a lightning shaped spot on my head," he added.

"You won't need an identification unless you want to be registered." Snape commented, leaning back.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him and almost chuckled. "Are you telling me to break the rules, Professor Snape?"

"God forbid," Snape said. "But I know you enough. You won't go to the Ministry. Even with Kingsley there it would take them a year to register you, meaning you could not turn until then. You don't have such patience, but I doubt anyone has. Minerva practised Animagic for twenty years before she registered herself."

Snape waved his hand, as if brushing the topic aside. "What about wingspan? Feet? Beak? What's in your mouth, Potter? Birds don't have teeth."

Harry watched him confused. "Sir?"

"Those are all details you'll need to be familiar with if you want to achieve a perfect turn. Like any advanced magic this requires as much study as the others, except here it leans more towards ornithology, than magic itself. You'll have to be extremely informed about owls. You will construct the bird first in your head and only after then will you be able to become it."

Harry nodded, thinking he might have taken a bigger bite with this then he could chew, but then it turned out Snape wasn't even finished yet.

"This will be the easier part. The next step is to actually turn. You'll need to understand what it means to have wings instead of hands, to have a lighter bone structure than what you're used to. And last, and most importantly, you always have to remember, that first and foremost you are a human, otherwise you cannot turn back. This is the part where neither I, nor anyone else can help you. If you get lost in your mind, I can turn you back, but there were instances when not even that helped. When the mind itself believes it's an animal, there's not much any wizard can do."

The professor gave Harry a couple minutes to think it all through then asked, "Do you still want to do this?"

Gulping, Harry nodded. "Do you think I can do it?"

"You fought against Lord Voldemort and succeeded. You fight me day and night and manage to get away almost unscathed. Honestly, I would be surprised if you weren't flying out there in a couple month."

"Really, in a couple month?" Harry asked sitting up straighter in the chair immediately.

Snape nodded. "Yes, but you'll need to concentrate. Which, as I remember, is not your forte."

"You'll be surprised," Harry grinned.

"We'll see." Snape said then closed his eyes. The next moment black feathers sprouted from his head while his hair shrunk back. "Your turn."

"What, just like that?" Harry asked? "No spell?"

"More often than not magic is a lot more than spells and wand-waving," Snape said, brushing through his feathers. They slowly elongated and melted back into hair cascading below his shoulder, like a waterfall of ink. "Your imagination gives power to the words. A spell works, because even before you say it, you know what it will cause."

Harry closed his eyes and tried concentrating.

"You can come up with a word, a spell that could help you focus at first, but you shouldn't need it." Snape said in a quiet voice.

Harry tried picturing Hedwig's white feathers, with a little more blackness in it, but something invaded his imagination. He should have talked to Ginny, should have apologized. She was so angry, but then so was Harry. Why didn't she understand how much this meant to him? Why wasn't everything how it was supposed to be?

"Potter," Snape growled warningly, and Harry opened his eyes.

"Sorry, sir."

"Concentrate, otherwise we're just wasting each other's time."

Harry closed his eyes again but this time, he couldn't even picture Hedwig, Ginny was the first thing he saw in the darkness. He opened his eyes again and shook his head. The more anxious he'd become, the less he could concentrate. And that would end up angering Snape. The man was right, they were just dawdling. This could never work.

"All right," Snape said standing up, but to Harry's surprise, he didn't go to open the door to send him away. Instead he leaned against the edge of the desk, watching Harry expectantly. "Out with it."

"W-with what, sir?"

"What's on your mind, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gaped at Snape for a full minute before he burst out laughing.

"I highly doubt you want to be talking about my girl problems, Professor Snape." Harry said – a sentence he had never, ever expected to say in his life.

Snape just raised an eyebrow at him. "Want to? Certainly not. But neither do I want to waste my time. And I cannot just send you away without giving this a proper try either, you've done far too much for me in the past two months to repay it like that. So, if I must listen to you whine about your broken heart to get you to concentrate, so be it."

Harry swallowed back the laughter that wanted to erupt from him, then just said, "My heart is not broken, sir."

"Is it the opposite, then? Memories of nights spent in the throes of passion is what keeps you from growing feathers?"

Eyes wide, Harry looked down to his lap. This could not be happening. He could not be speaking about sex with Snape. This was insane.

He gulped, then looked back at the professor. He knew he was blushing, but there was nothing stopping that. He might as well face the man instead of hiding.

Snape wasn't ridiculing him, there was no hint of mockery on his expression. He seemed absolutely indifferent.

Harry felt a very sudden urge to change that, to make Snape react somehow, anyhow. Even if it cost him his dignity.

"Ginny said I kiss like a tree." He blurted out.

No matter how hard Snape tried, he couldn't hide the snort that bubbled up from him. Harry wanted to slap him, but he wasn't truly angry. He smiled at Snape as he admitted. "I wasn't concentrating when I was with her, either."

"I see. Miss Weasley and I are facing the same problems it appears." Snape said, schooling his features.

"Well, it's just so hard. When I'm with her, I'm thinking about you, and I hurt her. When I'm with you, I'm thinking about her, feeling guilty."

Only too late, when the words were out of his mouth did Harry realize how misconceiving that sentence could be. He gave a side look at Snape, who shook his head.

"First of all, I do hope you have never uttered that sentence in that form to anyone, especially not to Miss Weasley." He grunted. "Secondly, you need to live in the present, Potter. You cannot keep thinking of what will happen. Do try to enjoy what is in front of you."

Harry gave that a thought, it was a surprisingly good idea.

"All right, let's do this," he sighed in the end, standing up too. He stretched his arms over his head as if this was Quidditch practice. "So, what do I do? Just close my eyes?"

Snape observed him for a minute but must have deemed him focused enough, because the next moment dark eyes closed, and his long black hair turned into feathers again.

"Give me your hand." Snape said then quietly. "Then close your eyes."

Harry did as requested. He couldn't see anything just darkness, as his hand rested in Snape's cold fingers. Then Snape lifted their hands to his feather-covered head.

"Imagine your own feathers, Potter," he all but whispered in a deep tone that made Harry shudder. "Imagine how white they are, how light and fragile they feel, how soft they are to the touch."

Harry buried his fingers into the feathers, softly caressing them. They were incredibly soft. Their touch on his skin so light, almost unnoticeable. It was strange, but not unpleasant. He carded his fingers through them, thrilled at the sensation. He would have feathers like this soon, too. White ones, with a little bit of black at the end. Smaller fuzzy downy, and longer, firmer, but equally soft semi-plume feathers.

He could feel Snape's fingers on his own temple stroking his hair back with a tender caress. His touch wasn't cold anymore, it was very gentle and warm. Harry could slightly feel the end of his nails scrape his skull.

"Potter…" said a low voice. There was a hint of a smile in there and Harry's eyes opened to see it. Endless black eyes looked back at him.

Snape was only inches away from him. The proximity scared Harry for a second and he wanted to step away, but something made him stay where he was. His fingers moved in the professor's soft feathers, raking gently through it.

But Snape wasn't transfixed as Harry, thankfully, and he withdrew, then handed Harry something. With shaking hands, Harry took it.

"Look at yourself," Snape said, turning the mirror around.

Harry finally peeled his eyes away from Snape and looked down. The man who looked back at him wasn't entirely like himself. He had beautiful white feathers instead of messy black hair.

"I did it!" Harry cried, boxing in the air.

"We have a long way to go," Snape warned him, but then added, almost inaudibly, "But that was a very promising first try indeed."

Harry grinned at him, then turned back to his image, watching as the feathers changed colours and receded into his head, turning into hair, just to sprout forth all over again. He barely needed to close his eyes this time.

"The first time is always the hardest. Now that you have an image of yourself, it will be easier." Snape commented, then he stroked Harry's feathers again. He seemed to inspect them, but his touch lingered for a moment, even after the feathers turned back into messy tresses.

Harry stood there, suddenly feeling too aware of every lock of hair on his head. Their gaze connected and something dark shifted in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Now get out of here," Snape said, ruffling Harry's tousled mane suddenly before he pulled his hand back and walked behind his desk.

The careless touch made Harry feel like a child again. It reminded him of how Sirius would playfully do the same thing when he wanted to show how not-angry he was about Harry's misbehaving. For some reason, Harry didn't like being reminded of Sirius at a moment like this, when he was alone with Snape.

He mentally shook himself then asked, "That was all?"

"You've done enough for your first lesson." Snape said. "See you next Sunday, unless I need your help until then."

He went to the door, his heart filled to the brim with excitement about Animagic. He turned the knob, but then looked back. "Thank you, sir," he said then rushed out.

There was something else lurking in there beside excitement, something darker but equally electrifying, and it scared him.