Finding my Wings

Tzee

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any shape or form, sadly. No profits are being made from this either, again sadly.

This chapter is rated PG-16 for… descriptions…

I AM SO SORRY FOR THE SIX-MONTH DELAY. SO SORRY! I AM SO ASHAMED!

The dog ate the internet! I Swear!

Lots of love to my faithful readers, thanks for waiting.

A special thank you to MEMEMEX3 aka PEGGY. Your review guilt-tripped me into posting. ^_^

Chapter Six: Claws and Cursing

The steam from the cauldron rose in thick round puffs to the ceiling of the cramped workroom, tinged a sulphurous green. The blond man hovered close by, an old tome of book in his hands, occasionally giving the cauldron a stir or two. After a while, he straightened satisfactorily, put the book down and left the room, casting a long incantation as he went.

In a long winding tunnel a long way below the blond man's feet, a young woman in rags stared unseeingly at the bars of her cell. Her baby had been murdered right in front of her eyes not more than three days ago; his tiny screaming body had been bled into a tarnished silver goblet by a death eater.

She passed out from screaming long before the breath left her baby's delicate body.

It was in this cell she had awoke, pleading for death and refusing food and drink, spitting in her jailers faces when they had tried to force it down. Why they were keeping her alive was beyond her.

Suddenly there were footsteps; heavy, metallic boots echoed on a staircase; the man who came to feed her. She didn't like him.

"'Ello, sweetheart…"

No, she didn't like him one bit.

…..

It was after supper, and I was amazed he wasn't throwing another hissy fit, I thought as we walked towards the hidden quarters I had just learnt we were to share.

After Dumbledore had dropped the bomb-like information on my head, he had informed Draco to show me to 'our room' (mental shudder) after dinner.

Before I could buck up the courage to go over to the Slytherin table and ask Malfoy, in full earshot of his friends, to lead the way to our(Kill me now!)private room, he had stood up and strode out of the great hall.

I had followed indignantly, and found the arrogant git lounging against a pillar just outside the doors.

"Come on Potter." He said in the way of greeting and instruction.

I grumbled a reply and decided not to quarrel with his rudeness right now; I was tired.

So now we were walking. I trailed behind him, feeling the atmosphere grow more and more tense as the silent seconds slid by.

My eyes were roving. There was nothing really interesting to look at; the walls were the same walls as always, the paintings, suits of armor, the odd ghost- all remained unchanged. Save Malfoy, of course.

The Bloody Slytherin git had to go and change into the most beautiful creature this side of England. Sick irony really. Although he had always been beautiful, and this made me hate him even more. No! I can't think that way! Malfoy was only vaguely attractive because…uh… because he looked like a girl! Yes, that's why. My gaze stayed fixed on his back, dark and glaring.

"Honestly Potter, will you stop checking me out?"

I froze. Holyshitholyshitholyshit.

"Fuck off Malfoy, don't put such repulsive ideas into my head." I threw back venomously.

"Christ, Potter, it was a joke. Believe me when I say no-one could be more repulsed by that thought than me."

"Yeah whatever. Just keep your twisted fantasies to yourself okay?"

Malfoy sniffed condescendingly and turned back around.

I forcibly wrenched my glare from his back to stare instead at the floor. Fucking Malfoy.

DPOV:

Honestly, sharing rooms? This was so incredibly unreal. All of it.

Potter was looking at me(glaring, to be precise) and snapping at him made me feel worlds better.

We reached the six-foot-tall-giant dragon statue( he had informed me his name was Mitchell), and Potter observed closely how I opened the doorway.

In the little chamber, another bed had appeared, with Potter's trunk at its foot, as well as another desk. Potter immediately flopped into an armchair by the fire and continued his mutinous glaring.

I hesitated awkwardly at the door for a fraction of a second, then remembered myself and strode haughtily to the bathrooms, grabbing the fluffier towel from the neatly stacked cupboard. I needed some time to think of some excuse to feed to Potter about why I would be suffocating my bed with silencing charms.

I turned on the spray but didn't undress. I was unable to move, in a state of ennui, in a dwaal. The cold of the porcelain toilet seat seeped through my pants. I wonder what Potter would say if he knew he was living in close quarters with a faggot.

I inspected my fingers absently. Since my transformation, I'd noticed small changes; like the colour of my skin, the hardness or my toenails and the sharpness of my fingernails, which were becoming more and more like bird-like talons.

I touched the tip of one nail, nicked it across the skin of my hand. To my surprise, it drew blood. Fascinated, I nicked my hand again, and watched a tiny line of red appear.

I shook myself and stepped under the water. I washed my hair and body, but I was not focused on the momentary pleasure of the hot water. Every movement of my hands, of my newly sharp nails, was heightened. I was strangely aware of every scrub and scrape. Finally unable to ignore the pounding question in my mind, I readied my hand for another scratch. It hovered first over My hand, then my forearm. I thought for a second, then flipped my arm around to expose the tender unblemished skin of my wrist.

At first I was nervous. No blood swelled to the surface, but angry welts swelled up instead. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, and extended my talon and waiting wrist out in front of me; tentative and a little bit scared.

The though flashed into my mind about how cowardly I was being. Too scared to scratch your perfect skin, Malfoy? I snarled to myself. In anger I unfurled all four of my fingers, and, hot with rage, I slashed them across my arm. It made me gasp just a little, but I grew stern and ripped them across my arm again, in punishment for the little sound of weakness.

For the next couple of minutes I just stood there, staring at the bleeding gashes where the hot ache radiated from my arm.

HPOV:

I will not think about Draco Malfoy naked next door. I will not think about Draco Malfoy naked next door. I will not think about Draco Malfoy naked next door.

Fuck! This wasn't working.

I glanced over to the closed bathroom door, was there enough time for a wank?

Merlin's balls, was I actually considering wanking over sodding Draco Malfoy? Oh Christ I just thought sodding Draco Malfoy! I jumped to my feet.

No, Harry! You are a teenager yes, but you don't have to think about sex all the time, think something intelligent…

Right. Intelligent. Intelligent.

The bathroom door opened. Draco Malfoy stepped out the shower, all warm and moist in his pajamas. Mmm.

"Merlin, Malfoy, you took so long in there I thought you'd died."

Malfoy looked at me with an oddly secretive smirk playing softly at the corners of his mouth.

"Not quite, Potter, sorry to disappoint."

Author's Note: Review! Please please please! Draco will dance a strip tease for you!