A/N: A big thank-you to all of you who reviewed my story and your votes are much appreciated. It's interesting to see what combinations people want to see, not just the clichéd (?) or done pairings from other Harry Potter stories, and it's given me a few ideas to play around with.

You get a mini, mini, mini hint as to Lucius and Draco's creature blood is. They are a mythological creature you know, but the 'breed' name is a Japanese word of my creation. The hint is a little misleading though.

This story is not beta-ed, so any wrong words, grammar or spelling mistakes or missing words are purely mine and I'm sorry if it inconvenienced or confused you. I try to make sure all spelling is correct and all words are present.

Thank-you.

Chapter 3: Terror in the air and other surprises

Weeks turned into a month, Harry, as it turns out, was a natural on a broom. No surprise there. He had easily become Madam Hooch's star pupil and would help correct the other students (the ones that looked passed his green and silver robes) when they forgot hand positions or couldn't get the broom to hover correctly (if at all).

Soon, Draco was second in class and was called on along with Harry to help when and if he could.

Harry felt energized to the point of jittery, like he had electricity running through his veins.

Unable to sit still any longer, Harry packed up his Potions homework and headed out the stone door. Draco would still be hold up in the dorms for some time yet.

Harry passed a few students on his way outside. Most gave him dark or mistrusting looks, others seamed to ignore him. A couple of looks were neutral while only one or two were awed or admiring. Harry wasn't sure which expressions were worse.

Hiding most his of his emotions behind a mask that he had quickly developed a few weeks after his Sorting, Harry pushed open the front doors.

It was bright, crisp, warm for mid-October, perfect for flying. Harry wished he could stretch his wings, but it was too risky. So he'd have to settle for a broom for now.

Harry opened the broom shed and selected a Star Sweeper Six, and entered the Quidditch pitch.

Kicking off from the ground, Harry felt the rush of air and excitement as he climbed higher and higher, the sun was getting warmer and warmer. It was wonderful.

Draco looked around and noticed that he was alone. It was obvious that Harry hadn't been there for awhile.

A twinge of annoyance settled in Draco.

Where had he gotten too, why didn't he tell Draco where he was going, and why didn't he ask Draco to come with? How annoying. He could have at least have left a note or something.

Draco got up and went down to the common room, thinking Harry might be entertaining himself learning Italian from Blaise; the mocha skinned boy had promised to teach Harry some words and phrases in exchange for some of his mum's homemade chocolate cake bars.

Draco crinkled his nose at the thought.

It wasn't that Lily's cooking was bad or anything like that, it was just that he preferred the richer, wizard confections to the muggle made confections.

Harry wasn't in the common room. Now where?

"Looking for Harry?" Blaise was longing on one of the sofas near the fire, his Ancient Runes text open on his chest.

"I'm sure he hasn't finished any of his homework before he went to goof off." it was a pathetic excuse, and Draco knew that.

Blaise just smiled knowingly, "I think some people said he went outside."

"Thanks."

Draco walked directly to the field, knowing of Harry was outside, the Quidditch pitch was the most likely place to find him.

Draco was right. Harry was zooming around in and out of the clouds, dipping to the tree-line and weaving between the stands. His laughter ringing out through the air, carried by the wind.

A portion of Draco's annoyance melted at the sound of unadulterated joy.

"Draco!"

"You could have said something!" Draco accused of him as Harry drifted closer.

"Sorry, Draco, but I know you and you don't like being interrupted when doing Potions. I thought I would be back before you were finished. Since you're here, grab a broom, I'll race you."

Was it possible for someone to bounce up and down on a broom? Apparently so. Draco tried, he really did, but Harry's enthusiasm evaporated the rest of Draco's irritation and Draco found himself grinning.

Running back to the shed he grabbed the fastest model the school had and rode back to where Harry was making lazy circles in the middle of the field, waiting for him.

"Alright then, get over to one of the goal posts and we'll have a three lap race, best two out of three wins!"

"Right. Get ready to lose."

"In your dreams."

The two took off towards one of the goal posts in sort of mini race. Out of nowhere, Harry's broom jerked up above the stands.

"Harry!"

Something was wrong, Draco took off after Harry, trying to reach him. Whenever he got close, the broom would jerk and take off in another direction.

"Draco!"

The broom headed for the clouds, twisting, diving, and jerking, trying to throw Harry. Draco's heart was pounding against his ribs.

"Malfoy!"

Draco looked down to see a pair of ginger haired twins flying at him. "What are you two doing here?"

"Listen. We may not hang out with Harry, but we have met him and know that he is not the next Dark Lord that everybody else seams to think he is," one of the twins explained.

"Right. He's an alright kid and we don't want to see him hurt," The other piped in. The three of them kept up the Harry's runaway broom from twenty feet below him.

Harry's broom went higher, the twins and Draco went higher. Draco split away from the other two, hopping that he could corral the broom and maybe push it down back towards the twins.

The broom shot up, then just stopped. Completely. Harry plummeted towards the earth.

"DRACO!"

"HARRY!"

Draco's heart lodged itself in his throat. He dove after Harry, hopping to pull him on his broom before Harry hit the ground, only to find that his own mount was no longer in his control. All he could do was watch as his best friend plummeted to his death. The twins tried to catch him as he fell passed, only to find that their brooms had been repulsed by some force.

Draco couldn't take it anymore. He jumped.

Harry watched the ground rush up at him at a sickeningly fast pass-through blurry eyes.

Survival instincts overrode caution, and his wings unfurled, only to be caught in the folds of his robe. Quickly, with trembling fingers, Harry shrugged out of his robe.

Harry's wings slowed his decent, but they were too weak from lack of use to fight against the wind and support his weight. Panic set in, and Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the splat.

"Harry!"

Harry looked up (down) to see Draco hurtling at him, deep, black wings out, close to his body in a dive acceleration position. Several feathers fell out to trail behind him.

He looked like an avenging dark angel.

"Harry. Give me you hand."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I don't have enough practice flying, I'll only drag you down."

As Draco drew abreast with him, the older boy grasped his wrist. "alright then, first lesson, stiffen them out but try to keep them slightly bent, you'll rip them off otherwise," Draco instructed.

Harry did as he was told.

"Good, now angle them just so."

The difference was amazing. Harry had considerable more control of the situation, and was able to glide to a gentle, crash landing. They laid there shaking, panting and gasping for breath.

Draco looked over to Harry. His glasses were gone, thrown off during his wild ride. Wind had dried the tears on his cheeks and he was pale as a sheet. Draco thought that Harry looked a little green as well. Not that the older boy blamed him. Draco's stomach didn't feel so steady itself.

Getting up on wobbly hands and knees and crawled over to where Harry had fallen. He had hit the ground pretty hard, and Draco was worried Harry might have broken something. Or worse.

Luckily, Harry only seamed shaken up a bit and was already regaining his breath.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"My ankle hurts."

"Okay, alright. It's probably twisted or sprained, we'll have to get you to Madam Pomfrey to be sure."

Harry just nodded.

"Can you stand, or at least sit up?"

Harry carefully got his arms and one leg under him and was able to twist around and sit up. Socking in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"What the bloody hell are you two?"

The twins had landed some feet away and were looking at Harry and Draco as if they had each grown a second or even a third head.

"Um…"

Harry and Draco looked at one another with worried expressions. Luckily they were saved from answering by Snape showing up.

Without warning, Snape picked Harry up bridle style, much to Harry's humiliation.

"You two will not repeat what you have seen just now or it will be 100 points from Gryffindor, each. Now return to you common room this instant. Mr. Malfoy, you are able to walk?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come along."

The twins ran off back towards the castle. Draco was sure they weren't going to be able to keep quiet.

Harry was too embarrassed to care if they were going to tell the whole school or not at the moment.

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse was nice though very strict. She refused to let Harry move much once she had finished examining him.

She had said that his ankle was in fact twisted, but that there wasn't she much she could do, even with magic. It would have to heal the muggle way. She conjured up a pair of crutches for him to use.

She told the both of them to take it easy for awhile and gave them a diluted Calming Draught for the shakes and then sent them back to the Slytherin dorms.

Breakfas

t was a tense affair. People kept whispering, staring and pointing at the Slytherin table.

It turns out that Fred and George weren't the only ones at the pitch yesterday. Whatever happened to Harry's broom, had attracted the attention of some of the students that were out and about, getting fresh air.

Snape had only threatened the Weasley twins, so everyone else was free to gossip, and write home.

Or to the Daily Prophet.

Harry glanced over Draco's shoulder at the front page.

Prestigious Pure-bloods, or Masquerading Monsters?

Some time yesterday afternoon, a few anonymous letters was sent to the Daily Prophet claiming to have seen both young Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, with wings. That is correct, wings! Yesterday afternoon, the Slytherin duo, who have easily become two of the top students in their year, were out enjoying some well deserved fresh air, when for no reason at all, Mr. Potter's broom went 'haywire' as the muggles say. The broom, after a dangerous run around the school's Quidditch pitch, in which the broom refused to allow Mr. Malfoy and two other students to get anywhere near it, stopped.

As Mr. Malfoy got close to Mr. Potter, the broom's enchantments seamed to dissipate, leaving Mr. Potter to plummet. It is reported that whatever had happened to Mr. Potter's broom, transferred to Mr. Malfoy's, preventing him still from reaching Mr. Potter. Eye witnesses say that at this time, Mr. Malfoy jumped. Our source confessed to us to us, that they were sure Mr. Malfoy had just committed suicide, only to be shocked at being proved wrong when Mr. Malfoy shrugged out of his robes and sprouted "magnificent, black wings, as deep as an abyss", one source wrote.

Other say they could see bits of purple in those depth, while others say it was blue, like looking at clouds in the night sky under a full moon. One letter described Mr. Malfoy as looking like a dark angel. One letter contained a feather from Mr. Malfoy, and I must say, it is more blue then purple. Mr. Potter is not what he appears to be either, though. At one point while falling, Mr. Potter removed his own robe to revile a lighter clouds-under-full-moon-blue colored wings of his own.

The difference was that, instead of soft feathers, they were un-mistakenly dragon. Mr. Potter seams to be still in a infantile stage of wing development as he was unable to-

"Infantile? I live in a muggle neighborhood, where would I be able to practice to build the muscles needed to remain in control? Not to mention I was already a little scrambled before I fell."

"I know, Harry, I know. Rita Skeeter is a leach, a gossip with no real talent when it comes to reporting. The only reason they keep her on is because se sells," Draco tired to reassure Harry.

"That has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. The Prophet is the only true news Wizarding Britain has, you'd think they'd hire people who can do their job and do it correctly."

"Yah, you'd think. But the Prophet is practically owned by Fudge."

"Fudge," Blaise snorted. "How much you willing to bet he bribed voters to put him office?"

"Well that's a given isn't?" Draco retorted. "If the man was anymore of an incompetent moron, there wouldn't be any paper at all. Most of the Ministry would shut down and half the prisoners in Azkaban would still be walking the streets because Fudge can't find his own arse without someone pointing it out to him."

Blaise and the other Slytherins who were listening to him nodded in agreement.

"Honestly," Draco continued. "I don't like Dumbledore, but if old coot wasn't holding Fudge's hand and wiping his nose for him, the man would be sniveling in corner somewhere and allowing the Ministry to crumble around his head."

Harry had never met the Minister of magic, not that he could remember anyway, but he had to Draco. Since the start of term, Dumbledore has received at least three official letters at breakfast, who knew how many more he received in privet, and was called away to London twice, that Harry was aware of.

Something really should be done, but what? Can an eleven year old even do anything concerning the magical government? Not likely.

Harry looked up at the rest of the Hall. The Gryffindors looking at him with even more mistrust and hatred then before, the Ravenclaws were looking at him with curiosity and almost a hungry expression, like they wanted to dissect him or something. Behind him the Hufflepuffs kept chattering and giggling.

Turning his head slightly, Harry saw them out of the corner of his eye, pointing to the paper and looking up. Some were misty eyed (mostly girls) like they were looking at something small and defenseless, other were barely containing their laughter.

Great.

"Don't them get to you," Blaise said quietly.

"What?"

"The other Houses, don't let them get to you. They're all kind of intrusive and don't stop to think about other's feelings. Gryffindors are always looking something for to look down on others about and don't know them meaning of privacy or personal space. The Ravenclaws are worse when it comes to informing each other of ever little thing that goes on, and the Hufflepuffs, the Hufflepuffs are the most harmless House at Hogwarts. They might ask a few questions but they don't push much it you tell them to sod off."

"Yah, you're right. It's just that I hate being in the spot light," Harry replied.

"You're a Slytherin," Blaise told him as if that explained everything. "You'll give the information you want to give, but only to those you deem worthy of it. We all live like that. That's how we survive, physically and mentally."

"Right."

Feeling a little better, Harry went back to his oatmeal and berries.

Snape glared between the paper in front of him and Quirrell. This was his fault, and now Snape was going to half to deal with both an irate Lucius and Potter in his office, if not later today then tomorrow at the latest.

Quirrell was going to pay dearly for his stunt yesterday. Snape was going to make damn sure that Lucius and Potter knew exactly who's throat to go after.

A malicious smile crept across his lips. He would enjoy that show very much, he thought as he took a sip of his morning tea. Very much indeed.

A/N: 9 pages. My longest chapter yet. Of course a lot of it was due to A/Ns. I did promise a snaky comment from Draco, hopped you liked it.

Now, Narcissa. Possessive, manipulative bitch or understanding, supportive wife?

Review!