Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter© characters or locations. No money has been made in this endeavor. Reviews are nice though
Warning: Spoilers for books 1-5, after that AU. (Whoopsie, forgot to mention that before) Slash. Harry/Snape. Due to guidelines – nothing graphic, but a romance between the two none the less. Oh, and cursing. Funny, I don't curse in normal life. I get typing and I turn into a sailor. Or at least as sailor as I'm gonna get.
A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed and added me to story alerts and favorite stories. I get all twitterpated when I see those e-mails.
On with the Show!
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Chapter 5: Debut
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Life is made up by a series of moments. All continuous and all interrelated. These moments could be big, small, life altering, or the basic humdrum of everyday life. The point is that these moments that make up our life are just that: moments. Quick and fleeting passages of time that do not have a universal measurement. The perception of how long they are is all relative to the person experiencing them at the time. One person's week is another person's blink of an eye. One often hears phrases like, "It felt like only yesterday," "I blinked and you grew up," "I could have sworn I put that paper here yesterday...oh, that was three weeks ago? Never mind,"; these are all verbal reminders of these moments slipping past us without so much as a farewell. Now we have not switched topics and are going to now discuss time theory and philosophy. No, this is merely a philosophical, and probably highly doubtful, way of explaining Harry's current predicament.
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Some how, through some twisted warp in physics and space, time had sped up between the beginning of September and the end of October. That is the only way Harry Potter could even think to explain that, faster than he could say the words "pumpkin pasty", it was already the last Saturday in October--Halloween. Two months had already passed. How? Where had the time gone?
Time had been held hostage by the normal things that happen in life. School, extra curricular activities, and friends.
School work and classes seemed to be even more demanding this year—or maybe that was because Hermione was already trying to get them studying for their NEWTS—and often their evenings were spent writing essays and revising work.
Besides school work there was quidditch practice. It was the first game of their season today and the Lions were playing the Ravens. They had been practicing like crazy. Harry had been made quidditch captain since he now had seniority. He may not have been the oldest, but he had been on the team the longest. They were a little rusty at first but the team had come together nicely and they had some great plays in the books. They were good this year, but he was biased. Now if he could just get his keeper to keep his breakfast down.
"Ron, you will be fine. You were doing great in practice on Thursday. There will be no difference today." Harry tried to assuage his friend's worries. Ron wasn't eating and when Ron wasn't eating—there was something wrong.
"You know how nervous I get! Plus, there was the fact that there was absolutely no quidditch last year cause of the war. I bet I get up there and bomb." Ron said miserably. He picked up a piece of bacon, looked at it, and then set it back on his plate. This was serious. Ron never turned down meat. His claim was that now that Harry was a vegetarian he had to take it upon himself to assume Harry's meat ration. He claimed it his solemn duty to carnivores everywhere.
Usually such changes in eating patterns were indicative of a more serious problem. Take Harry's case for instance. Ron was very much not turning into a magical creature so the next logical—or illogical depending on one's current mood—was that Ron had finally worried himself too sick to finish his breakfast. Harry was going to have to think fast if he was going to have any form of a keeper this morning.
"Look you know how to guard the goal. Just pretend like its practice. No one is watching."
"That would work great Harry, except for—oh yea—the hoards of screaming people all in the stands. They all remember me from fifth year. I can hear 'Weasley is our King' now." Ron was looking a little green and Harry thought back to what Ron had actually managed to eat that morning. A sticky bun and some eggs....ewwww he did not want to see that again. Maybe Hermione had a potion or something. Must talk redhead down. Where is his girlfriend at?
Speak of the devil—or thinking—Hermione finally walked into the Great Hall. The team had to wake up early and was already in their gear and almost all alone for breakfast at this hour. Hermione always made it a point to get up early to wish them well. She came over and sat next to Ron.
"What's wrong with you?" She asked as she helped herself to toast.
"What is it ever?" Harry supplied. He didn't want Ron opening his mouth. He still looked ill. "He is nervous about the game."
"I won't catch anything!" Ron said as he threw his biscuit down on his plate.
Hermione thought for a second and then her face lit up. Harry didn't know for certain, but he could have sworn that he had seen Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, make the same face when she caught a mouse. Hermione leaned forward and started to whisper in Ron's ear. Harry had never before witnessed such a fast change. Ron went from looking sick, to blushing violently, to grinning like a madman. He started tucking into his breakfast with his usual vigor.
"Do I even want to know what you said to him?"
"I just gave him a little incentive for catching the quaffle." Hermione said with the same calculating grin as she continued eating her toast.
"Yep, I was right. I don't want to know." Harry said as a faint pink came to his cheeks. His hand absentmindedly went up to flatten his hair. It was a gesture he had picked up at the Dursley's when he was nervous and he had not quite kicked the habit, but had come pretty close. Recently, he had regressed back to the abstracted gesture when his newest addition to his features appeared two weeks ago.
His hair had turned green. Well, to be fair it wasn't all of his hair. The bulk of his messy, spiky locks were still their charcoal coloring, but the tips faded to a green that rivaled spring grass. He had been told it matched his eyes. His friends, or at least his muggle born friends, had told him that because his hair was already somewhat spiky and messy that he now resembled a punk rocker. Personally he didn't mind this new change though he seriously doubted the 'punk rocker' description. It definitely was very mundane as far as the other changes he went through. No, what did bother him was that people thought he had colored his hair himself to gain attention. People had finally stopped talking about his creature inheritance around the time that the new hair color made its grand debut. So yes, perfect timing. If there was one thing Harry was not, it was an attention seeker, but it was near impossible to prove that the change had not been intentional. No where in McTorning's book had it mentioned a change in hair color. Hermione just said this was just something. "Uniquely Harry". Unique or not, now the more common term of endearment for him was "pathetic pixie".
In fact now there was a counter rumor that he didn't even have a fairy creature inheritance. He had never showed anyone his wings. He could have gotten his eyesight corrected and his hair styled. The latest Daily Prophet ran an article about this conspiracy just last week. Harry had stopped caring. If this whole mess taught him anything, it was that people were going to talk no matter what. He had a feeling that if things had stayed the same as they always did there would be a new rumor: Boy-Who-Lived too normal! Too mundane! He has to be hiding a terrible secret. He is holding a family of merpeople hostage to use their songs to drive little children insane and he doesn't want anyone to know about it. Something about like that.
"Harry?"
"Hmm? Sorry Hermione. I was a in the clouds. What did you say?"
"What were you thinking about?"
"Merpeople"
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Was that what you were going to ask me?"
"No, I was saying you shouldn't smooth your hair down so much. It isn't like you can rub the green out."
Harry lowered his hand. He hadn't realized that he had still been worrying his locks.
"Hey! Rub it out!" Ron said around a mouthful. Hermione made a tsking sound but Ron continued, "We didn't try that! We tried every charm to change it back and they failed. Come here and we will try rubbing it out."
"That's okay. I think I will pass."
"Never know, it might work. Come on, let's try." Ron insisted. He really wanted to give Harry a noogie.
"As much as your offer is appreciated Ron I think I would have about as much luck sticking my head in a toilet than having you give me a noogie."
"Ohhhh, we need to try that too!"
"Go back to your eggs you prat!" Harry chuckled as he threw a piece of apple at the laughing red head. He looked at Hermione to see if she found them as amusing as they did. She was looking at him with a contemplative expression. Harry sensed trouble. Or a severe change in the mood of the conversation. Whichever came first.
"Did you talk with Professor Snape last night at the lesson?" Hermione asked pointedly. Harry knew exactly what she was talking about. Aha, so it was a severe change of mood. Wonderful.
Harry sighed. Ever since he had started taking the tutoring lessons with Severus Hermione had been asking if he had told the man about being his mate. He had promised he would when he could and indeed he had many an opportunity, but his mind always came up with an excuse to avoid the confession.
"No, it just wasn't the right time. He was grading papers. I didn't want to interrupt."
Hermione just shook her head. "That is one of your more lame excuses Harry. He is always grading papers. You promised. You have to tell him."
"I know, I know. I promised I would when I could and I will." Harry began eating on his apple again and hoped Hermione would drop it. Luck was on his side since she went back to eating. He knew she would ask about it again later, but he would enjoy the reprieve while he had it.
The lessons with Severus had actually been beneficial, even if they were born from Harry's subconscious need to avoid an awkward confrontation. His potions skills had improved greatly and the friendship between himself and the Potion's Master had progressed as well.
The lessons followed a routine. Harry would arrive and set up his potions equipment, Severus would give him a potion had done poorly on in the past—which Harry soon discovered was a lot—and Harry would spend the next hour or so working on said potion. Every once in a while he would ask the professor a question and he would receive an answer or instruction on where to find the answer. When he was finally done Severus, in full Snape fashion, would critique the potion and suggest ways of improvement. There was always need for improvement; even if the potion turned out seemingly by the book Severus was never short for comments.
"You lack finesse. You batter your potion when you stir." Was one of his favorite assessments.
Finally the mess would be cleaned up. Most of the time Severus would merely wave his wand and the potion would vanish. To where Harry didn't know. He often wondered where things went when magic made them disappear. They had to go somewhere. It was at these times that Harry would have an image of an alternate universe where someone was walking along, minding their own business, when all of a sudden a potion falls on their head. Must be a terrible place this universe. Harry never told anyone about this assumption.
Sometimes though the potion was not vanished to that strange alternate universe, but would be bottled up and put in stores. That was when Harry knew that he had done a good job, regardless of Severus's comments or lack of true praise. That was praise enough.
When all of the cleaning was done the two would usually talk for a little while if Severus wasn't too busy with grading. Their conversations had become a little easier going however they would usually would be a general, "How are your classes?", "Weather's nice today" type of conversations. Small talk. Both still too timid to begin any deeper threads of conversation but both too stubborn to admit this fact, even to themselves. A few times Harry had simply stayed and quietly finished his homework for the day.
See? Never a good opportunity to tell the man that he was possibly the mate of a giant fairy.
Harry shook himself from his internal monologue. He would tell Severus about this. Someday. Possibly. As it stood now there were no ill effects from not telling him; so why tell him. No one had died and he hadn't gone crazy. Maybe. Kind of hard to tell sometimes. Harry still did not like the whole fate thing. Too much of life seemed to be without a choice; at least when it came to him. Well, this was his choice. If nothing bad ever came from it then Severus would never know. What's the worse that could happen?
"You ready to go Ron?" Harry said as he got up from the table and shouldered his broom, "We should get to the locker room soon."
"Yea, hang on" Ron said as he shoved another piece of toast in his mouth as he stood up, "M 'Eady."
"Highly articulate. Come on. Hermione we shall see you later."
"Myah ba' smeety"
"Good luck you too! I'll be cheering! And Ron, please chew that...Please!"
As soon as they were out the Great Hall doors Ron snatched Harry into a headlock and proceeded to give him that noogie.
The green didn't come out.
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"Alright you two," Madame Hooch addressed both captains. Harry stood facing the Ravenclaw's Captain, a rather surly seventh year boy named Jacobson. "I want a fair and clean game from each of your teams. Now shake at take your sides."
Harry put out his hand. This was all part of the formalities that he didn't like about being a captain. He just wanted to fly. Jacobson met his handshake but couldn't resist, "Good luck Pixie Boy." He said with a chuckle. Very clever.
"Good luck to you too." Harry turned back to his team and rolled his eyes. For being the quick of wit the Ravenclaws hadn't found any new nicknames for him. Rather disappointing.
Soon enough the quaffle, bludgers, and snitched were released. Let the game begin! Harry took his normal position slightly above the team to watch for the snitch and to also yell out help to his teammates. The other seeker, a young fourth year boy who Harry thought was called Smith, was just a few yards away; hoping to follow Harry if he did spot the snitch. Smith was looking right nervous to be up against Harry. Not that Harry noticed, he was too busy at the moment watching his chasers pass the quaffle.
The game progressed quite nicely. Ron was on his A-game today. Harry had to remember to thank Hermione after the game. So far they were ahead by twenty points. 60 – 40. A good lead, but it could be better. Harry was a little nervous this year being the captain and the seeker. He knew he was suppose to be watching and helping his team, but he also had to find that snitch. Now he knew how Oliver felt. Harry turned his attention to look for that elusive winged, gold sphere when he heard Dean Thomas announce:
"AND RAVENCLAW SCORES AGAIN!"
Dang, now they were only up by ten. He hoped Ron didn't get flustered. He was doing good. He looked down to find his keeper and friend's face as red as his hair and mad as could be. Harry had a notion that the anger was self directed.
"RON! Your doing great! Just Remember the plays and training! We are ahead thanks to you!" Harry hollered as loud as he could. Ron looked at him for the briefest of moments and gave a small smile, turning his attention back to the game.
Ginny had the quaffle now and was doing a great job of weaving in and out of the Ravenclaw chasers and the bludgers. She got within scoring distance and—
"GRIFFENDOR SCORES!"
Good. That should make Ron feel better. Harry went back to searching for the snitch. He easily dodged a bludger that came zooming past him. One of their own beaters, a newly recruited fifth year by the name of Anthony Bellman, knocked it back over to Ravenclaw's side.
The game kept going on and on. Harry didn't know for sure, but he reasoned it to be around two hours. Where was that snitch? The score was now 110 – 80. The teams were becoming exhausted. It needed to end. Harry took all of his attention to searching for that stupid, little—
There it is! Harry caught the glimmer of gold fluttering over near the Ravenclaw's hoops. He turned his broom at a sharp right and went speeding off in that direction as fast as his Firebolt could take him. Smith, after getting over his shock at the sudden movement, tried to follow behind.
Harry got close and the snitch began to move away. Oho, not so fast. Now that Harry had it in his sights he would not be letting it get away. He gave chase and soon found himself twisting and turning all throughout the field, the additional problem of avoiding the other players becoming very much apparent. Very much. He nearly ran into Ginny and a Ravenclaw chaser, he didn't see who. The only reason he knew it was Ginny was the flash of long red hair. The crowd was cheering like crazy which gave Harry an even bigger boost of adrenaline. The snitch made its way upward as Harry was closing in. Just as he was getting close the winged beast tried again to change direction, this time going back down. 'Oh no you don't!" Harry thought and in a flash hooked his legs together and swung upside down reaching his hand out as far as he could; he felt his palm make contact with the feathered orb and closed his fingers around it. He had caught it!! Harry didn't have too long to celebrate though, because two seconds later he felt an explosive blow to the side of his chest. Damn bludger.
The hit surprised him so much that he let go from his inverted position on his broom. He felt something falling off of him, his protective padding. That must have been what had absorbed most of the blow and kept him conscious. Harry didn't have time to ponder this however, he needed to act. Maybe it was because of adrenaline or heaven knows what but he felt like time had slowed down, if only minutely. He saw his broom falling away and without thinking he reached out and wished it would come back to him. His broom obeyed and started to steer back toward the falling Lion.
Oh. Yea. He was still falling. Fast. He wondered why no one was stopping his fall. Usually one of the teachers or Madame Hooch would step in and levitate the player to safety. All of a sudden he felt himself slowing down till he was comfortable floating downward. There we go. Harry smiled. Someone had saved his butt. He wondered who. Probably Professor Dumbledore. He had to thank the man when he had tea with him next. His broom reached his had as his feet closed in on the ground. He looked down at his other hand to still see the struggling snitch. He let it go and finally came out of his rush from falling, expecting to hear the cheers and screams from the crowd and his teammates. He expected Dean Thomas screaming "GRIFFENDOR WINS!". He didn't hear any of this. In fact, he didn't hear anything.
The whole stadium—including the players on both sides—was silent. Really silent. The kind of silent that instantly made you suspicious. Harry didn't understand. He had fallen several times before. Been hit with a bludger a few times as well, but there was never this kind of silence. At least not at a time when he was conscious. He wasn't even hurt that badly. He rubbed his side absentmindedly as he looked around the crowd, trying to see why everyone was so quiet. He turned to look up at the players. Their faces, or the faces he could see from this distance, looked as if they had seen a ghost. Even Madame Hooch had a startled visage. Was he hurt worse than he thought? It just felt like a couple of broke ribs. It was at this confusing moment that Harry felt a familiar flutter of his back muscles that could only be one thing.
His wings....
His wings....were.....out....where anyone could see. Where everyone was seeing. Somehow in the whole mess of getting hit and falling his wings had unfurled and he could only guess that he had flown down to the ground. And everyone had witnessed it. Harry stared around just as shocked as the rest of the school. How had this happened? He had always felt when his wings opened out. Finally, he was brought back to reality by a faint clicking sound. In fact it sounded like several clicking sounds. A camera. Or several cameras. Fantastic. Harry quickly drew his wings in—he didn't flinch anymore, despite the terrible feeling—and stared hard at the ground. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Madame Hooch Finally blew her whistle to call the game. The sound seemed to do the same for the whole crowd.
"GRIFFENDOR WINS" Dean said, though it was a little half hearted. As were the cheers that followed.
The other players landed and Harry's team walked over to him. They all still looked shocked except for Ron who had a smile on his face.
"Well, this definitely takes care of the rumor that you were making it up." To the rest of the team he added, "Come on guys! You act as though someone spit in your butterbeer—WE WON!"
Ron's words broke the ice and the rest of the team started cheering and congratulating Harry on catching the snitch. They were patting him on the shoulder, avoiding his back, and Harry tried not to wince when his hurt ribs were jostled. He felt a tap at his back and a zing of magic and turned to find Hermione.
"You had a rip in the back or your shirt. I'll fill you in on what you probably missed later. Are you okay? I bet you broke a rib or two. Let me get Ron and we will go to the Hospital wing to get you fixed up. And congratulations! I knew you guys would win!" She said in rapid succession happily. She was smiling ear to ear and her voice sounded like she had been hollering and cheering the whole game. Her scarlet and gold scarf looking quite haggard, as if she had been wringing it in nervousness. May she always talk about how pointless quidditch is; she always turned into the biggest fan when the lions played. Especially when Ron played. Speaking of which, the brown haired girl bound towards her boyfriend to give him a celebratory hug and kiss, resulting in a very happy, if not very red, Ronald Weasley.
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"Okay, so let me see if I have it. Somehow, when I was hit with a bludger my wings popped out and the force of them ripped though my uniform shirt and broke off all my chest and back gear. Then I proceeded to fly down without any knowledge of my body doing so and managed to wandlessly and wordlesslysummon my wayward broom back to me."
"That's what I just said," Hermione replied as they walked down the halls towards the infirmary. Most of the students were still outside but the ones that were around gave the trio a wide birth; simply staring at the trio as they made their way. "What part of that don't you get?"
"No, no. I get it. I just thought repeating it would make it sound less...farfetched."
"Well?" Ron prompted
"Well what?"
"Did it make sound less farfetched?"
"Not by a long shot."
"Well that is what happened," Hermione insisted, "In fact that's not all. Your wings changed color."
"They did?" Harry stopped at this news. The sudden movement causing his ribs to flair painfully. He winced. "What color?"
"Right as they opened out and while you were floating down the pattern on your wings was yellow. When you touched back on the ground they went back to white."
"So what does yellow mean?"
"How about 'Help! I'm Falling!'"
"Thanks Ron, I'm sure they are that specific in their meaning."
"Just doing my job Tink. Just doing my job."
The three finally made it to the infirmary where quick as you can say, "Quidditch is a terribly dangerous sport and you kids are far to young to do such dangerous activities and you don't wear near enough padding. Not to mention that you, Mr. Potter, are a notorious daredevil"—which is exactly what Madame Pomfry did say—Harry's ribs were healed and they were heading back to the Gryffindor common room for the party that was in no doubt happening right now.
"So...everyone as pretty shocked weren't they." Harry finally asked. He knew he was stating the obvious, but he had to know Hermione's and Ron's opinions about the schools reactions.
"Yes, but no one was afraid," Hermione said.
"No, I doubt people would be afraid of a giant fairy."
"Hey, don't sell yourself short..." at this Ron had to snicker, "...anyways, I bet you could be right scary when you want to be!" Ron said
"Careful Ron, those jokes are antique, they may brake."
"No, I'm serious Tink! During the war, when you went into...like...battle mode...or something you were quite intimidating. I'm sure you could still do it now."
"Well if I did then it would have to be sans the wings. No matter how 'intimidating' you say I may be, with wings it would just ruin it.
"I don't know. Lends itself to the element of surprise doesn't it? 'Holy crap! There's a giant fairy about to beat the living daylights outa me!' I think it would cause many an opponent pause."
"So you're saying I should use my wings as a strategic device against enemies?"
"Sure! It's like chess; throw the enemy off. Next time one of the Slytherins is bothering you unfurl your wings. When they are so shocked they don't move then you hex them three ways to Saturday!"
"Sounds like cheating."
"Fine. Don't use your wings to their full advantage. See if I care. But don't come crying to me when the perfect opportunity comes to one-up a Slytherin and you let it pass you by."
"Oh look! We're here," Hermione interrupted before Harry could answer. Both boys had a feeling that Hermione had a quota on how many silly and irrelevant conversations she heard a day. If she met that quota, or exceeded it, then the chances of her brain turning to mush increased. They personally had a quota for how many times they heard about the NEWTS in a day, so in the end the universe balanced itself out. They would have to continue this dialogue whenever she was out of earshot.
As they entered into the common room the party, which had quite obviously been going on for some time, stilled. Everyone was looking at trio in the entryway. Harry braced himself for the new onslaught of questions and whispers.
"Let's hear it for our captain and seeker and our illustrious keeper!" Neville shouted from near the fireplace. The rest of the common room began to cheer alongside and soon people were coming up and talking about his great catch and about how good the rest of the team did. He grabbed a butterbeer and joined the party. People would talk about the wings, but right now there was quidditch. Let quidditch always be this important to magical adolescents. No one mentioned the wings at the time. Neville, at that moment, just earned himself a whole mountain of chocolate frogs.
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The next few days saw those questions about his wings brought to light and at full height. Many just asked if they could see them again, to which Harry would politely decline. It was an accident and he did not want to be popping his wings out every time someone wanted to sate their curiosity. If he did then he would be doing it all the time and he was not a show...no matter how much Ron tried to convince him that they should charge a fee to see his wings.
Others asked why they had change colors. He would answer them truthfully about his wings changing colors based on mood, but that he didn't know how they accomplished this task. Some asked what it felt like to fly.
He couldn't walk down the hall without being poked in the back several times, as if people were trying to find a magic button that would cause his wings to become visible again.
Harry tried his best to answer all of the questions. After all, the best thing in an awkward situation is to simply talk about it as if it were normal, but it was starting to become too much. There is only so many times one can answer the same question without going a little loopy. The only ones who didn't pester him were of course Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. Luna thought the whole thing marvelous although she swore that the Diligarians were, in fact, part of a grand conspiracy to cover up the existence of Tooterskipsers. Whatever those were. Harry was just glad she wasn't asking questions and poking him.
He began to miss the teasing names that he was called before the whole incident. He didn't have to respond with the same answer fifty times a day when people were calling him the Tooth Fairy...or Pixie Boy....or Fairy Princess. People still called him Pixie, but now it was the same as Ron calling him Tink, it was now just a nickname with no maliciousness behind it and seventy percent of the time it was followed by a question or a poke around his back or side. Even his own house mates asked him questions or requested to see the wings. Collin was the worst about poking him. He had gotten a couple of pictures at the quidditch pitch but it was too small in his opinion. He wanted a close up. All of this unwanted attention started to make Harry a little crazy and by Thursday he was ready to do something he would never consider in a million years if he was sane.
"Umm, Malfoy?"
"Yes, what is it Pixie? Can't you see I'm trying to study? I finally get rid of the mass of girls and now you bother me."
Harry had found Malfoy alone in the library and wouldn't have approached him if the blonde wasn't right, there were no girls around ogling the young Slytherin and this occurrence was so rare that Harry had to take the opportunity.
"I know. I'm sorry," Wow, it felt really weird to apologize to Malfoy. Hermione was right. During the war he may have nearly been recruited as a Death Eater, but he wasn't. He actually did not want to be on any side but his own and after the war he had mellowed out significantly and had stopped bullying people outright. He still didn't want to invite him out for a butterbeer, but Harry knew that like it or not, Draco Malfoy could give him advice. "I just came to ask you a few questions."
"That's rich considering that's all people seem to be doing to you right now."
"I know!" Harry intoned expressively as he plopped down in the chair. He missed Malfoy's amused smirk. "That's what I wanted to ask you about. How do you deal with it?"
"Deal with what Pixie? You are going to have to be more specific." Malfoy said as he shut the book. He couldn't believe he was actually going to talk to the Potter Pixie about dealing with a creature inheritance. This will count as his one good deed of the year.
"Deal with being a magical creature? Deal with the questions? For you – dealing with the girls constantly following you around? Deal with being, well, different."
"Listen Potter," now was not the time for nicknames, no matter how funny they may be, "As for dealing with a creature inheritance I have always known I was going to turn into a Veela. My mother is half Veela, my Grandmother full. I had read about Veelas and creature inheritances all of my life so I can't really help you with how to deal with this as a surprise."
Harry nodded. Malfoy had grown up with his parents in the magical world. While he doubted his family would have known about his Diligarian inheritance he probably wouldn't have been as blindsided as he was now. Malfoy continued,
"As for the questions, I didn't get asked nearly as many questions as you. People heard I was a Veela and thought 'Oh yes, that's right on the money" His voice had taken on an edgy tone and Harry remembered Hermione saying that Malfoy was most likely jealous of Harry's attention.
"But you always have the most beautiful girls in school following you around." He knew it was blatant ego boosting, but he needed advice and right now that meant appealing to a slightly narcissistic Veela.
Malfoy shuddered, "Don't remind me. At first I thought it was great, but now I can't have any privacy outside of my rooms. Girls are always following me and I am bloody well starting to hate it."
"Kind of like me and all the questions and whispers. At first I just thought it would die down, but it hasn't yet. I am also getting right sick of being poked in the back!"
This was said in such earnest truth and it must have shown in his face because the young Veela nodded his head sagely and was quiet for a few minutes.
"It will die down Potter. If you notice I do not have to deal with a mass of hypnotized girls at the moment. People will get use to it eventually. The questions will get less and less and people will stop poking and prodding you. You want my honest opinion of what will finally shut people up?"
Did he really? "Sure, what is it?"
"Go around one day with your wings out. People are reacting like this because they never get to see your wings. If you did that then maybe they would get all their gawking and gaping out of their system."
"That may work," Harry conceded, "but I don't want to do that if I can help it. I am still normal. No different from anybody else. The wings don't change anything about me. People don't need to look at me and see wings. I want them to just see Harry"
"Well then just give it time and you will start to feel normal again. Less different. That's how it was for me. At first I felt like an outsider and I even had my mother for help and support. I have been a Veela though for many months. You are still new at this. But Potter, I have to let you in on a little secret."
"Which is?"
"You have never been anything less than totally different."
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"You are early Potter. Your remedial lesson does not begin until eight." Severus said as he opened the door on Friday evening. He always used Harry's surname in case a Slytherin student was about in the hallways of the dungeons.
"I'm sorry sir, I wasn't aware of the time." It was a lie. He knew it and he knew Severus knew it as well. In truth, Harry had had nothing better to do. Ron and Hermione had gone off for some couple time and Harry found himself going for a walk around the castle and wound up at Severus's door. The same thing had happened last week. He was only fifteen minutes early, but he knew how particular Severus was with time. "I could come back at the appropriate time."
"Do not be ridiculous Potter. Such an arrant waste of time. Come in and you may begin your lesson." Severus said as he opened the door wider to allow Harry access. The teen walked into the office and over to his usual work station as Severus shut the door.
"This evening you will be redoing the healing salve that was assigned at the beginning of this year. Do you remember it?"
"You mean that orange, liquid sawdust concoction I made? Yes."
The corners of Severus's mouth twitched upward, but he did not break from teacher mode. He took his role as educator seriously. "Yes, that. I trust that it will turn out correct this time. If you have any questions please find the correct annotation in Advanced Healing Potions and Herbs. The text is on the bookshelf behind you. I have papers by your inane classmates to grade." With a flourish of robes the potion master left Harry to his own devices. He just hoped this time it didn't turn out orange.
The silenced passed as ingredients were added and papers were marked with a sea of red ink. Harry only paused at one time to consult the book Severus had indicated. He made a small "Oh" sound when he found the page he needed. He had switched two ingredients' order. At the time he thought it did not matter. But here in black and white he found the error in that assumption. The results of his mix up had been what caused his little fowl up last time.
Severus would occasionally look up from his grading to check on the young Gryffindor. Knowing Harry's skill with potions the possibility of an explosion was ever present.
'He has handled this whole situation of a creature inheritance rather well,' Severus thought as thoughts drifted back to the quidditch game and the ensuing days after. He himself, and he assumed Harry's other close friends, had seen the wings before, but for the rest of the school it had come as great astoundment. He had observed the young man handle all of the questions and prodding that had happened consequently with stride and a maturity that if someone had told Severus Harry had possessed a year and a half ago Severus would have laughed. Loudly. Severus continued to watch the Gryffindor.
When Harry had shown up two Fridays ago with the green in his hair Severus was not impressed. He proceeded to lecture the young man for thirty minutes about proper dress, and inappropriate means to draw attention to oneself. When he was finally done Harry had calmly asked if he could have a potion to change it back. Severus, believing he had won, smugly went and retrieved the potion. Harry trustfully swallowed the potion and waited a few moments. Soon enough the hair turned back to its original raven color. Severus was about to begin his lecture for a second time when the green slowly faded back to the tips.
"Kindly tell me what the meaning of this is Harry"
"Wish I knew. I woke up this morning with it like this. We tried all sorts of charms but it just always comes back."
"And you didn't think to tell me that before I wasted my breath in lecturing you?"
"You like to lecture people. Besides I knew you would eventually make me take a potion to change it back and I wanted to try that. See if it would work."
"Brat"
After he had gotten use to the change, Severus had to admit that the new hair seemed to suit the young man quite well. 'Matches his eyes. That same intense green. He looks much better without the glasses. One can actually see his eyes without that obstruction. Makes his face seem so unguarded, though.'
"Um, Severus?"
Damn! He was caught staring. Severus quickly went back to his grading only to find that it was all done. When had that occurred? "What is it Harry? Do you have a question?"
"No, I'm done."
Severus rose and came over to the young man and his cauldron. It was blue. So far so good. He stirred the contents a moment then leaned forward to smell the potion.
"It looks like it was stirred by a troll." Severus huffed as waved his wand. Harry was expecting it to vanish to that alternate universe and prayed forgiveness to whoever it fell on, but instead several glass vials appeared out of another room and the healing salve was bottled.
Severus turned and walked back to his desk. As had become their routine Harry cleaned up the rest of his things and walked over to the couch that set near Severus's desk.
"So, have the students finally gotten over the incident of last Saturday?"
"You mean when my wings made their debut? Kinda. I am still getting a lot of questions and people are still staring expecting to see them again, but it is going to run its course."
"Hmmm...How are your classes?"
"What is your favorite color?"
Severus started. "I...beg your pardon?"
"I am sorry for not answering your question. My classes are going well. Now, what is your favorite color?"
"May I ask why you would even entertain such a—"
"We talk, but in all the conversations I have yet to learn anything about you past the fact that you think children are idiotic and don't know anything about the 'art of potions making'—which I already knew—and you know nothing about me past the fact that I sleep in Binn's class—which everyone does. Friends find out things about one another. Even if they are silly or inane." Harry didn't know what had possessed him to ask Severus this, or to be so forthright with his new but older friend.
"Green"
"Huh?"
"My favorite color. It is green"
"Oh."
"You seem surprised."
"You wear a lot of black."
"You are referring to my robes."
"What else would I be referring to?"
Severus stood up and began to undo the clasps of robes. Harry suddenly felt his mouth go dry and his cheeks begin to red. What on earth was Severus doing? Try as he might though, Harry could not avert his gaze. The annoying little voice in the back of his head decided to speak up, 'Now would be a good time to tell Severus he is probably your mate.' 'What? Now is the worse time to do such a thing' the more logical voice answered. Harry wondered when so many voices began to occupy his head. Harry continued to stare as Severus finally finished and removed his robe to reveal black slacks and a blue collared shirt.
"As you can see I wear color Mr. Potter, I just only wear black robes." Severus said as he sat back down. He had to admit that he found it very amusing how flustered Harry had become.
"Is it because the black robes look more ominous and intimidating."
"Something like that. Tell me, were you impressed with Lockhart in lilacs and saffrons and oranges?"
Harry snorted "No he looked right silly. Made it hard to concentrate in class."
"There you are. I find that when it comes to robes that I like black and it does not distract students."
"Oh." Harry said lamely. He was still in a bit of shock from seeing his professor turned friend in muggle clothing.
"Now may I inquire as to your favorite hue?"
"Oh, um, I like red..."
"A true Gryffindor"
"Yes yes, and I like navy blue."
Severus's eyebrow rose, "May I inquire why that specific color?"
"It's the color of the sky right before the sun sets. It's a nice color."
"Ah."
This was followed by a silence.
"It is your turn now to ask a question Severus. It is kind of like a game. We go back and forth."
"It seems pointless."
"Humor me."
"Fine," Severus said and he thought for a few minutes. He really could not think of anything. He had never played such a game. Severus had a hard time even remembering the last time he played. "What is your favorite food?"
Harry smiles, "Before the start of this school year I would have said bacon sandwiches, but now I would have to say apples."
And so the game began. Harry found out some interesting things about Severus. They were little things, but things friends should know. He likes French food, preferred nighttime, his middle name was Tobias, he hated heights—that one was a big surprise for Harry—and his favorite music was classical with his favorite composer being Tchaikovsky.
The conversation had become very easy going. Sometimes they would talk about a particular answer for a few minutes while other times they would go straight to another question. Severus had stayed at his desk but was leaning back in such a casual manner that Harry doubted the man truly was aware of his demeanor. Severus was not a casual man. At least not what Harry had witnessed. Harry for his part was leaning into the arm of the sofa with his head propped up by one hand. He had been starting to feel giddy, which Hermione said was an effect from being so close to his mate. He did his best to repress it, but the more he talked with Severus and the more relaxed he got the harder it became. Neither was aware that the game had already gone on for an hour. It was Harry's turn to ask a question. Without truly thinking it through his mouth hijacked his brain and said the first thing that came to it:
"Why did you agree to be my friend?" Harry was curious about the answer, but he would have never asked if he had thought it through.
Snape pondered the question for a moment. Harry began to think he wouldn't answer until, "Over the past few years I have watched you mature into a young man who was not the arrogant spoiled child I had erroneously perceived. You are brave, but not egotistical. There is actually a brain in that head of yours though I sometimes doubt your common sense. Also, you have a very interesting sense of humor. In short you have become someone I wish to know better."
Harry was surprised by this truthful answer and stayed silent.
"Oh no Harry, you do not get out that easy. As the rules were explained—by you I might add—we both must answer the question. Why did you decide to be befriends your surly potions professor?"
Severus teasing him like that was still on Harry's top ten of odd things. Right up there with....well, maybe it should be a bigger list than ten. Harry had seen and heard some really odd things in his day. He realized Severus was still waiting to hear his answer.
"You saved my life more times than I care to count. You always looked out for me even though I was the son of a man who bullied you in school. You kept me grounded. You never let me get a big head from this whole 'hero' thing. Sometimes you took a little too much emphasis on that particular job, but in hindsight it is very much appreciated. Besides that my answer is kinda the same as yours. Through training I found I valued your opinion and looked forward to conversations with you. Your wicked funny when your razor tongue isn't pointed right at me. I wanted to get to know you better."
Harry had started to blush during his admission and the giddiness he felt in his chest and stomach had doubled. He looked down at his other hand in his lap while the other hand began to pick at a fuzz ball on the arm of the couch. He wondered what Severus would say. The older man was not exactly known for deep sharing of feelings, years of being a spy made this glaringly obvious. Had he made the professor uncomfortable? Would he continue the game?
"May I see your wings again?" The question came quietly, but it startled Harry nevertheless.
He looked up and over at the taller man. Severus was looking at him. Had he really asked that or had Harry imagined it. "Severus?"
"May I see your wings again?" Severus repeated. So it wasn't Harry's imagination. Had it gotten warm in here?
"Kay" Harry said faintly. He stood up and spelled the hole in the back of his shirt and willed his wings to open out. The sensation was so astonishing that Harry fought to not topple over. He had an inkling that this oddly fantastic sensation was effected by Severus's presence much like the giddiness. He righted himself and turned his eyes back to Severus.
Green met dark brown. 'Hm...They're so dark they look almost black. Intense.'
They stared in each other's eyes for a while. It felt good to have his wings out again. About twice a week he had usually gotten out to the room or requirement to fly around and exercise his wings but with the chaos of the week he hadn't been able to. He fluttered his wings to get the slight soreness out of his back, not taking his eyes off of Severus's; he witnessed those same intense, dark eyes widen as they took in the movement.
Severus couldn't help but openly stare at the young man and his wings. When he had first saw them over two months ago he had thought them beautiful and his opinion had not changed. He had often wished to request of Harry to show him his wings again but had never found the courage until this little questions game. 'Perhaps the game was not so silly after all..." His gaze must have been highly critical because he soon saw a blush creep to Harry's cheeks. He never broke eye contact though.
"Do you want to touch them?"
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Yes."
"...Kay."
They stayed where they were. Severus at his desk and Harry standing by the couch. A moment in time passed by. Finally, Severus abruptly stood, causing Harry to jump, and began to walk around his desk and toward the young Diligarian. The eye contact stayed and Harry remained in place. He didn't think he could move if he wanted to. Severus's eyes seemed to work better than petrificus totalis. He didn't know what had possessed him to ask Severus to touch his wings. Hermione and Ron hadn't even touched them. For that matter he had never even touched his wings before. The giddiness threatened to overwhelm him at this point.
Severus was beside him now and had slowly brought his hand up to Harry's larger wing on his left side. He let it hover over the thin, iridescent appendage; just a hairsbreadth away. Not yet daring to touch; as if afraid he would break them. He was so close that Harry swore he could feel the hand even though it had yet to make contact and that Severus could feel the tingling of magic that the wings were giving off. Harry turned his head and met once again the dark gaze.
That gaze held as Severus began to move his hand, still just a fraction away, up and around Harry's wing. Harry shivered a little at as the giddiness made his knees weak and the tingling sensation his wings were giving making him light headed. He was blushing like crazy now; he could feel the heat all through his face and running down his neck. Why did Severus have to look at him like that?
Finally, when they both couldn't seem to take it anymore, Severus pushed his hand forward that small margin and made contact with the wing; letting his fingers slide down in what could only be described as a caress. The results were immediate and almost synchronous.
Both Harry and Severus gasped at the sudden electric jolt that ran through them; much like when they had shook hands months ago only more intense. At that same moment the white swirling pattern of Harry's wings changes to a bright grass green and began to give off a faint glow. Harry thought how silly it was to not tell Severus that he was his mate. He should just tell him. Felt like the most natural thing in the world to do at this moment. Severus was wondering if he really thought the wings were beautiful on their own or if they were only beautiful because they were attached to Harry.
In a trance, Harry began to raise one of his own hands to Severus's face. He was centimeters away when somewhere a clock chimed eleven o' clock. The spell was broken and both came back to reality and had to blink several times from the rush of it. Harry's hand was still where it was at just a fraction away from Severus's cheek and they were both still looking into each others eyes.
"I think you need to go Harry" Snape said quietly. His hand that was still touching the wing fell away to his side. The wings, however, stayed green.
"I..."
"It is past curfew."
Finally Harry lowered his hand. "Kay"
With what felt like great pull, Severus stepped away from Harry and broke eye contact to walk back to his desk. Harry felt the loss keenly and with the worry that his mouth would speak without permission he searched for things to do. He quickly drew in his wings and spelled his shirt and jumper closed and went to get his bag when Severus returned.
"Here is a pass that will keep you out of trouble on your walk back." He said as he handed the parchment over. Harry took it, careful not to touch less another occurrence like just a moment ago happen.
"Thanks" Harry said as he stared at the ground. He couldn't take it though and raised his head. He just wanted to see those eyes once more. He got his wish. Severus was still looking at him.
"Severus..."
"Harry you need to go." Snape said again. This whole conversation had been conducted in near whisper, as though they had found themselves in a sacred place.
"...kay..." Harry said again. He wanted to say something more intelligent, but that seemed all his mouth and voice were capable of. He slowly broke eye contact with Severus and his feet began to move towards the door.
"Harry..."
"Yes?" Harry answered as he turned back around. He found Severus still rooted to his spot on the floor.
"I....Good Night Harry."
"Goodnight Severus"
Harry finally managed to walk through the door and down the hall of the dungeon. He did not go too far though until his legs began to feel like jelly and he found himself leaning against a wall. How was he suppose to keep the fact that Severus was his mate—because there was no doubt about that now—when things like that could happen between them. This wasn't Severus choosing him. Severus would not choose him. Why would he? This was a fate thing. This was the stars trying to say they had no choice. Harry slid down the wall he was leaning against and stared up at the ceiling. He also questioned whether or not he even wanted to keep this from the tall, dark, and—Harry's brain supplied—handsome older man. Harry had never felt anything like that before and he wouldn't mind feeling it again. He slowly began to bump his head against the stone behind it, as if trying to knock some sense around up there. Little did he know that at that exact moment that certain tall, dark, and handsome older man was hitting his head against his desk striving for that same clearing of mind.
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Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Oh well.
All I want for Christmas is a Review...or three....or twelve...Please Santa!