!WARNING! -

This chapter contains light lemon scenes, D/s themes and might have some fluffy angst. Anyone wishing to avoid the direct lemony bits, it's rather implied and glossed (emphasis on light!) over-you won't miss anything by skipping this chapter, but the paragraph break at the end will let you know what happened. You can skip to there, if you wish.

PREVIOUSLY:

"Enough, Sev." Terius yawned. "It's catching. We've got about five minutes, give or take." He turned weary eyes to Theo. "You cannot let him continue in this vein much longer."

"I know." Theo bent to pick up Harry, hefting him easily in his arms. "I will take care of-"

"I—we—understand." Terius murmured. "Do what you must, before this situation goes out of hand. It will do him more harm than good if you-"

"Thank you." Theo interrupted. "Goodnight, Teacher, Professor."

Harry woke in a tangle of despair and muted emotions. He felt the artificial fog lifting somewhat as the rest of him processed that he was curled up to Theo and currently warm and comfortable. He wriggled around for a moment, waiting for the rest of himself to catch up to speed. The previous night's events came back to him in neat snatches, here and there.

He tried to sit up, only to find himself trapped—as usual—by Theo's heavy arms. He scowled. How dare he-! It was starting to frustrate him, the little things like this. The night's events remained perfectly ingrained in his head and all he could think and see was a mixture of confusion and helplessness. Snape had drugged him with a weird calming draught. Terius hadn't answered all his questions and even Theo hadn't been able to answer some of them!

Harry huffed, working on concentrating on moving Theo's arm. The concentration paid off when he managed to slip out from the steady weight and out from under the covers and off the bed. A self-satisfied air came to him and he stepped out to find the bathroom. He fumed through the routine of taking care of business and washing his face and hands with soothing, cool water.

None of them had any right to drug him, to order him around and to treat him like a little kid. They didn't understand! None of them! They didn't know what it was like to be without any kind of magic. They didn't have any clue how he felt. They didn't even try to understand what it was like to be in his shoes and dealing with scales, claws and then there was the whole thing of being extinct—yet other Dragels were all but falling out of the woodwork—and then he'd gotten himself tangled up with Theo.

Yes, Theo. Harry thought, darkly.

It'd been nice at first, after all, he'd just craved having the closeness, the gentle affection and the company. It'd been hard to get along since Hermione, Ron and the others had slipped into their own little world. It was hard since Sirius was gone and of course, Remus was always off on Order business, it wasn't like he could write him the kind of letters that Sirius had allowed. Then of course, there was Dumbledore—the old wizard seemed hellbent on manipulating his life for the rest of whatever few years he had.

Harry snorted.

The years would be few.

Voldemort hadn't done anything yet for this year. That meant that something big was sure to happen fairly soon. Harry could practically taste the bitterness that would come from a fight he couldn't yet win. That stupid prophecy echoed in his head, one line haunting him a little more than the others. Sometimes it seemed as if dying might just solve all his problems—but with his luck, Harry could only think that the afterlife might be worse—especially if death could no longer present itself as an option.

He shut off the taps and swabbed his face dry with clean, fluffy towel.

The reflection staring back at him seemed to hold every ounce of distress he felt.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He chanted in his head. Why had he thought that anything could be different? He was still just as much of a freak as he'd always been and only now, was it causing him a bigger headache than usual.

"Harry?" Theo knocked on the bathroom door, his voice cautious. "Harry, are you alright? What's happening? Harry?"

Harry coughed, a choked gurgling stealing all sound from him as he scrabbled frantically at his throat, fingers tearing bloody lines into his neck.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

It hurt so much he could scream himself hoarse.

There was so much feeling. Too much feeling. Everything all around him at once—feeling—what was he supposed to do with this? How was anyone supposed to process any of it.

Theo-!

His cry for help was silent. Buried underneath the smothering flow of feelings welling up from nowhere—but it wasn't really nowhere, now was it?—and threatening to swallow him whole and alive.

Even if he had help.

Even if there was someone to anchor him-! Why wasn't anyone coming? Why wasn't Theo there? Couldn't someone—anyone?

Please—help-!

The plea garbled in his head, rattling around his brain, magic trying and failing to help while one half of his body screamed for self-destruction and the other half desperately tried to claw its way out to freedom.

Something was happening.

Merlin save him, something was happening and he didn't know what it was. There was nothing to explain it. Nothing to compare it to. No kind of warning that he would feel as if he was burning, dying and carving a space out for himself all at the same time.

Because that's what it was, wasn't it?

Harry sank to the floor, his legs wobbling briefly before they buckled under him. He hit the floor, hard and another soundless scream left his lips.

Static burned at the back of his head, tiny little voices and fingers prying into his very soul, it seemed. The scared, frightened pieces of himself were clawed out and flung to the floor as he sank into a deep, dark void.

So dark. So deep. No way of ever coming out.

No way of living through it.

How he could he, when there was nowhere to go? No light. No hope. No anything. He was drifting, floating—abandoned.Forever left there, alone.

Always alone.

So alone.

Cold. Dark. Nothing. Empty. Pain.

Painpainpainpain-!

Wait. No. There'd been one thing. One person. Someone who had been trying, despite their own shortcomings and inexperience. Someone who was there.

He could almost feel it. Like phantom pains, curling through his belly and burrowing deep into his bones. An imprint, a remembrance, a reminder that his body could never forget, because of the way it cradled his very soul.

Ah. Right. There was one thing.

Theo!

Harry could've cried. He didn't know if he was or if he'd never stopped. His body ached and burned, as if his skin was melting around his bones, vaguely aware of scales surfacing and sinking back into his skin in rapid cycles.

It was awful.

So awful-!

A low, desperate whine crawled up and out of his throat. An instinctive sound he didn't even know he knew how to make.

Why hadn't anyone warned him? Why hadn't anyone told him that this kind of power would hurt? Couldn't anyone tell him what he was supposed to do?

Where was Theo? Why wasn't he here? Why wasn't he coming? Wouldn't he come?

Theo—Theo, I need—I need-!

And the final, desperate plea was answered.

The bathroom door was quite nearly blasted off of its hinges to show a distraught Theo on the other side in the hallway, eyes pitch-black and scales lining his face.

Harry wouldn't have known him at all, except for that familiar touch of magic, so soft and forever gentle, yet steady. A scent that he knew, somehow, deep down in his soul, that was meant to calm and soothe.

"Harry?" There was a tremor in his voice as Theo dropped to a crouch at once, as if to keep from looming over him in the bathroom doorway.

The torn off door vanished somewhere, but Harry couldn't be bothered to keep track of it. Instead, he stared numbly at the blurring figure of Theo slowly growing smaller as his vision narrowed and tunneled.

If he made any kind of sound or request, he didn't know. The white noise was overwhelming. He tried to reach out—wanted to reach out—and could not convince his body to move the way he wanted.

Words spilled over him. Slow, steady and empty.

He couldn't understand it, even as they washed over him.

"...and then I'm going to touch your arm, alright? I need you to focus on something. Try to focus on my voice, Harry. Try. You need to anchor something. I'd hold your hand, but I think those claws of yours won't do either of us any good..."

A gentle, soft touch brushed against the bare skin of his arm.

Harry jolted, violently.

It was like an electric spark had set his body on fire. His skin wasn't melting anymore, no, his bones were. His magic was cooking him from the inside out and he'd be a very nicely broiled wizard when it was done.

No wait. He was a dragel now. A dragel wizard.

Merlin.

So confusing. So stupid and-ah!

Theo's hand—it had to be Theo's hand—closed gently around his arm, keeping the lightest of pressure and scaling over in pretty colors that glittered in the overhead light of the bathroom.

Hot tears dribbled down his face.

Harry twitched, relieved to be able to actually feel them and know that he was feeling them. Focusing as hard as he could on that single point of contact, he struggled to pull himself out of that strange dark void wrapped around his mind.

It made it so hard to think and see clearly. So hard to try and tell himself that it wasn't the end of all ends.

And oh.

Theo was there. Right there. Close enough to touch-!

And wearing too much clothes.

Harry finally moved. He yanked his arm back, tearing at his clothes with his clawed hands. Uncaring of the slight scores to his own lightly scaled skin and the way that his claws caught and tangled in the fabric.

"Wha—hey—no! Harry—no—don't—you'll hurt yourself—Harry-!" Theo's distressed voice would've been enough to make him stop, but Harry was on mission.

A mission that needed both of them naked and not lounging on the tiled floor of a borrowed bathroom.

His mind helpfully supplied a series of blush-worthy moments from their first time together, not that long ago. How wonderful, considerate and special it'd been, despite the awkwardness and inexperience on their own parts.

It'd helped to cement his decision that he had chosen right. That Theo was the one he wanted to share the rest of his life with, in soul, mind and body.

Even if he was still wearing too much bloody clothes-!

"Harry!" Theo yelped, catching him easily in his arms. "You're going to—that was my good shirt, you know. Come on, talk to me. I can't guess what you're going through. I'm not a mindreader."

Harry huffed. There was no need for an explanation he just need to—whoa! He curled his clawed hands straight through Theo's fancy dress shirt and right into his scaled skin without reservation.

Huh.

Theo was carrying him. Fun.

His Alpha was so strong and good.

Harry wished he could show his appreciation, even as the weird, depressing voidspace disappeared further into the back of his mind. Almost as if it'd never been there before.

As if he hadn't been nearly slicing himself to ribbons and trying to merge two sides of his own heritage that he hadn't known existed until this very year.

Awful. Just awful. He'd been through more awfulness than he wanted to think about and that meant that only good things needed to happen from here on out.

How did he get Theo on the same page?

Harry wiggled his feet, kicking them slightly as Theo hurried down the hall, nearly kicking through their bedroom door, instead of kicking it open. It made him want to giggle.

His Alpha was so strong and so funny too!

It'd be hilarious if he was collecting doors now. The bathroom door, the bedroom door, maybe even the apartment door too!

"...and you're delirious," Theo muttered, half to himself. "I've done it this time. The madness is spreading and somehow, I've managed to-"

"The-o," Harry managed to say.

Delight rippled through him. He curled his toes, pleased. Slowly, he retracted his claws, wondering if Theo would mind that he'd nearly snapped his shoulder.

Hm. No.

It meant he was strong too. That was good, right?

"Harry, I adore you, but if you don't stop talking right now, I'm really going to freak out. Do you know you're talking?"

Harry warbled contentedly at him, uncaring of the wards that shot up around the room and the repairing spell that put the door back where it was supposed to be. He eyed the bed with a hint of irritation, because it seemed far too small for both of them.

"...it's not small, Harry. It's normal-sized. I don't think I want to know what you're thinking right now, because-"

His body trembled, violently.

"Harry!" Theo exclaimed. He set him down on the spell-straightened bed, patting at his face and shoulders with anxious hands. "Harry, look at me. Please, love. Look at my face, listen to my voice."

Harry blinked up at him, uncomprehending as Theo took one of his hands and pressed it to his heart.

A steady, thrumming beat vibrated through both of them.

Harry grinned. His voice still wasn't working right, but it was nice of Theo to worry about him. He was already feeling much better with him there and as long as he would hurry up and get those stupid clothes off-!

"...my clothes aren't stupid," Theo said, brow furrowing. "And while your head might be telling you all sorts of things, I'm not about to start—Harry? Harry, would you stop—oh sweet mother of Ergen. Harry!"

And Harry processed the fact that he'd just shredded his own clothes to nothing, leaving him with bloody hands, and mess blankets.

Whoops.

He certainly hadn't meant to do that. Alright. He'd just have to make the best of it. Honestly, it'd really help if Theo would just give him something nice to focus on. Something that would pull him out of his mind and put him right back in his body the way he was supposed to be.

Or something like that.

"...you're reacting," Theo muttered again. "I don't know to what. Was it something I said? I wish—I wish I—oh, never mind. Alright. Fine. You want this shirt off? Shirt and trousers." Theo spelled them away with a snap of his fingers.

Harry quite nearly drooled. He really did have the nicest Alpha with those nice looking muscles, all that pale skin and the pretty little patches of dragon scales peeking through. His happy perusal turned sour when he realized that Theo had forgotten to remove one very specific article of clothing.

His pants.

Well. That wouldn't do at all.

He reached for them, only for Theo to catch his wrist in one elegantly-fingered hand, his grip tighter and more firm than Harry could remember.

"Nope. We're not doing this while you're like this," Theo said, sternly. "Hands to yourself or I will stuff them in a pillowcase."

Harry snorted. He tried to break free, but Theo really did have him in a good grip. He whined, unhappily, trying to convey that what he wanted was right there and that he was fine and would Theo please, pretty please let him touch?

Theo's lips twitched. "You're begging really nicely," he said, lightly. "And I'll remember that, because it's cute when you pout like that, but the answer is still no."

He whined again, a little more desperately than before.

Theo sighed. "Nothing more than a hug," he warned.

And that really was all the warning that Harry had. He was simultaneously yanked upright and straight to Theo's chest, landing in an awkward sprawl, dependent on Theo's hands holding him up.

The skin to skin contact was absolutely divine.

Forget melting. Forget falling into any kind of void.

He was floating, no, soaring! Flying so high into the atmosphere that he'd be one with the stars and the universe and—ah. His nice comfy pillow was vibrating under him.

So nice. So soothing.

He patted at it—or tried to—his hands and arms were trapped tight under him, keeping him smooshed up close to that nice, warm scaled thing. Theo's chest? Maybe. Did it matter? No.

It was nice. It was perfect. He was never going to move from here and he would happily live and die without any kind of regrets for—ah. It was vibrating again.

Harry snuggled closer, a raspy, contented purr rattling out of his own chest. He was vaguely aware of more sounds—words? Were those words? It was too hard to tell—and the softest, lightest pressure of something on his face.

A kiss?

A kiss.

Nice.

The brightness around him dimmed to something more acceptable, a detail that only made sense when the warmth around them increased.

He felt the barest tickle of scales against his skin, the warmth blanketing his barely dressed body and wrapping tight around him in a way that narrowed his world to the beating of his own heart and Theo's lips ghosting over his claim mark.

Bite? He wanted a bite. Maybe Theo would be nice and bite him in that special way of his that always made him want to melt.

A huffing laugh sounded too close to his ear. He twitched, faintly, tensing up.

But nothing happened.

The dark warmth wrapped tighter around him in—oh. Wings. Those were Theo's wings. Theo's wings wrapped around both of them.

Ah. Life was good. So good.

Harry woke with a heavy head filled with thick, crackling static. He blinked and moved—or tried to really, because Theo had him locked in a hug so tight, he could swear his bones were creaking.

"...mfph—Harry?" Theo asked, groggily.

Pretty golden eyes blinked open, reflecting pure relief as he took in Harry's mildly disgruntled expression.

"I'm awake and conscious," Harry said, pressing infinitesimally closer. "I don't know what that was, but can we-"

"Some kind of reaction," Theo said, cracking a yawn that was half-muffled in the fluffy mop of Harry's hair. "And it's too early for sensible conversations. Sleep. We can talk in a few hours."

"Talk?" Harry echoed. "Theo, I don't want to talk, I want to-"

"Tired," Theo said, nuzzling his temple. "Sleepy. Wanna sleep."

"I've slept!" Harry whispered, fiercely. "And I don't want to sleep anymore or think about sleeping or-"

"Har-ry..."

"Theo!" Harry gave him his best determined look. "Please?"

Sleepy golden eyes fixed on him with careful consideration. Theo sighed. "Stop giving me that look."

"...I'm not," Harry lied, doing his best to make sure that the look did not waver. He had no idea what kind of expression was on his face, but if it helped convince Theo to please give him the intimate attentions and affections he'd craved earlier, then he'd do his best.

Theo groaned, rolling over to his back, one arm thrown across his face, hiding his eyes, but not his faint blush. "Fine, but you're on top and if you ruin my favorite pair of pants-"

Harry snorted. "There's repair charms for that," he said, crawling close enough to sit up—and settle himself nicely on Theo's stomach.

Being on top was new, but it could be fun. For now, everything else could wait. The Snapes, whatever that weirdness was with his magic and the confusion of the warring sides of his existence—wizard and dragel.

Right now, it was just them. Just the two of them and everything he'd ever wanted in the world, right there, underneath him.

He leaned down, reaching out to tangle their hands together, fingers curling possessively around Theo's half-scaled hands. "Kiss?" he asked, softly.

Theo smiled up at him, gentle and indulgent. "Kiss," he agreed.

And Harry did.

He fell forward, reaching out, he locked his arms around Theo's neck and sought to connect as intimately as he could.

Lips connected, magic sparked and two aching souls cried out.

When Harry couldn't breathe, Theo finally drew back, allowing him the few precious breaths. Gleaming golden eyes smoldered with an unearthly flame that only added to the ethereal figure newly awakened by Harry's interest and slowly shifting with intent to claim him.

And he would be claimed.

Harry suppressed a delighted shiver. He wanted this and finally—finally!—Theo would listen.

Another bruising kiss seemed to suck the very life from him and Harry melted into it, trying to match it as best as he could.

He found himself falling into a realm where it seemed like time itself, had stopped. He didn't know anything, but that which was in front of him, he didn't care of anything, but that which was happening to him. He was free and bound in the same instant. The body pressed tight against him, preventing all movement, anchoring him this moment, yet the sensations rippling over him coaxed forth, a freedom he'd never known.

This was Theo. The brave, sweet man. An Alpha-small, but fierce-and a protector that would stand by him no matter what. The hope in his belly, flared to life. Harry eagerly gave back into the delicate dance of dominance, surprised and pleased to find that his instincts—dragon or not—were rising to the challenge.

Every harsh kiss was punctuated by softer, gentle brushes of the lips on his eyes, cheeks, nose, forehead and a few times, a hot, wet tongue laved over that cursed scar.

When Theo caught him by the wrists, Harry nearly purred. He didn't fight the kiss that claimed him next. He parted his lips of his accord and titled his head to allow Theo better access. He barely registered when they fumbled their way from the door to the bed.

Pain rippled down his spine and shoulders and the sound of ripping fabric alerted him to the fact that his wings had finally come out without any warning at all. He felt the rest of his body shifting and morphing to take on the Dragel characteristics that were his own.

Theo's eyes glowed as the room grew dark inside, as if all light slipped away from within and swirled up and into him.

Harry felt his heart skip one beat, two beats and then, their positions were reversed in a single heartbeat. Pinned to the softness of the bed and his lips were claimed once more even as Theo's talented fingers rubbed little warm circles over his claim mark.

Snatches of sensation trickled over him.

Harry arched up into that warm body, seeking it as an anchor and giving into the bittersweet feeling of knowing that even if his own darkness never went away-Theo wouldn't leave him. He'd be here. Always.

Stealing his breath one moment and his sanity the next, Harry felt himself slipping away under the pleasurable attention.

There was no mistake that tonight would be fulfilled in every possible way.

Theo's hands played over his body with a familiarity Harry couldn't fathom. His body sang as those wickedly talented fangs marked his skin—deliberate bites pressed over his body as if in a second claiming. A bite, a suck, a lick. Then a kiss.

Something in the back of his mind, stirred. It pushed away at the feeble thought constructs in his consciousness and burrowed deep within the shadows of his mind, searching, seeking for something else. Something brighter, more powerful within himself. Something that wanted to rise to the occasion and be the beacon that worthy of standing beside Theo.

Seeking for more than hope.

A breath of fresh air came with the settling of his thoughts and Harry felt Theo's hot, burning hands trailing and stroking over his body. He arched upwards into the firm strokes as those wicked, wicked hands slipped down below his waist to that place where he desperately wanted attention.

Those deep, golden eyes burned into him, the searing gaze seemingly to coax the fire running through his body to burn brighter and hotter with every passing second. The mental fog was clearing—slowly.

In the back of his mind, that something pushed a little harder, tearing down at the carefully built walls to coax forth a hidden secret behind.

He reached upwards for that beautiful, terrifying figure and slid his arms around the warm, scaled shoulders, feathering by the strong, fluttering wings, pulling Theo closer to him. His eyelids fluttered shut as Theo kissed and licked away every tear, even as they continued to birth and fall.

Those fangs grazed along his collarbone once more and he stilled, head tipping to the side as encouragingly as he could manage, with the contentment sinking slowly into his body and leaving him feeling wonderfully lazy and happy in every possible way. .

When those fangs slid into the sensitive skin of his claiming mark, Harry was lost in a sea of pleasure as another wave of magic rippled through the room. He felt the claiming tattoo burn as it had when Theo had first healed it, this time, the burn was ten times worse and the bite the deepest one yet.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt something presented to his lips. He opened his mouth and gave a lick to the smooth skin offered. A purr of happiness slipped out as he bit into the proffered limb and felt the magic swirling around them, rearrange and bind them both.

Eternity.

The word echoed in his mind.

"Mine!" Theo rumbled. "You are mine. I am yours. I am just as much yours as you are mine. Always! Don't ever doubt this, please?"

"Yes." Harry whispered in answer. "Mine. Yours."

And Harry gave himself over to Theo's care. Another burst of warmth and pure, raw power rippled through him and Harry knew that no matter what came or happened next, Theo would forever remain in his very soul, as his first. His one and only. His.

Warmth. Safety. Acceptance. Freedom.

To be so thoroughly adored, left no inkling of any doubt in his mind.

This was what he had wanted.

This was what had been missing.

This was what he'd craved.

The heartcry that ripped from his throat echoed throughout the room, shaking the very walls of the dungeons.

And this time, he'd cried out of his own accord. Not from desperation or anything else. Just because—he wanted Theo as much as Theo wanted him.

Wonderful. How truly wonderful.

Harry blacked out.

The rest of the weekend was a bit of a blur—a rather erotic blur—but quite frankly, a blur just the same. Theo remained his steady, sure anchor throughout their weekend and Harry adored him for it. The things he learned and the things he craved were precious, dark secrets he tucked away for later. There was something deliciously satisfying about every tender caress and every delightful purr that Theo drew from him with incredible accuracy.

It was just what he wanted, just when he needed it.

Theo healed him several times over, when their claws got a little too sharp before skin could scale over. He healed his own marks and taught Harry the blood spell.

It's a different kind of power, Theo had simply explained.

Harry liked that answer quite a bit, so they went for another round. Kiss-swollen lips meeting in a clash of tongues, teeth and blood. There was nothing really civilized about it, but there was nothing lacking from it either.

A/N: Harry's got his head together now. Wonderful! This scene was important for two reasons-Harry needing to accept his real Dragel self (He is obviously not human anymore and this conflict has been causing him half of the trouble right now). and next, to complete the final stage of four, the mating-which, by Dragel standards, can be a little rough and bloody. Harry gives as good as he gets though and poor Theo just wants to sleep some more, but he can be convinced to indulge Harry. Just a little bit.