Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise

Title: Vanteerian Charm

Author: Lady Treason & Tinkering

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affliates, I'm in no way connected to any of them, I do not mean to infringe on any copyrights or titles and I make no money off of this endeavour.

Warning: What can I say? It's a Harry Potter/Smallville crossover. There will be Snarry, there will be Clex.

Summary: Mostly HP but then a curious bald headed man and a gangly farm boy wandered into their universe…and were followed. So then the megalomaniac father of said bald headed millionaire started getting even GREATER "disillusions" of grandeur… am I giving away the whole plot here? Dude!

A/N: Let's play a game...this game's called..."Give Me This Song's Name-Opposing Song". Yeah it's a mouthful. Let me start you off...Closer by Nine Inch Nails, So Far Away by Nickleback...you get it? Send me some nice ones in your reviews!

Vanteerian Charm

By Lady Treason & Tinkering

Disclaimer: All HP characters and places belong to JK Rowling. Don't own Smallville either. The Vanteerian Race and stuff belongs solely to me. Ha.

Chapter Two

Harry shifted slightly on the bed, wincing when he jarred something on his back. From what he could tell, it was something big and smooth and fluffy. He felt along it for a minute with a small sigh and then allowed himself a stretch. The bed was most definitely much more comfortable than he was used to at the Dursleys, but then again, he was still tired so perhaps he was just feeling slightly more grateful than usual.

He stroked down the feathers with a contented sigh and then smiled as he heard a deep rumbling purr sound in the room. Obviously, said furry thing was a cat. It didn't feel like a cat … but he didn't feel like opening his eyes either.

Everything was so quiet for once; there was no snoring coming from his Uncle's bedroom, no stamping or shouting coming from his Aunt as she kicked him out of bed to make breakfast. Nothing at all but his own heart beating and the purr that seemed so loud and so near. He continued feeling along the thing on the bed behind him, twisting his arm around the back so that he could reach. No, it was much too big to be a cat…

His eyes snapped open as he remembered. The wings… his uncle throwing him out … the burning… the hunger… the sickness… the magic… and then nothing. He peered through the darkened room, trying to see if there was anybody else there, or basically if he could figure out where he was. He knew that it wasn't Hogwarts, because the distant hum of the wards was missing. It wasn't the Malfoy's, or they would have left a light on, knowing of Harry's unease in the dark, especially when he woke up after nightmares.

Ironic really that he, an apparent creature of the night who was allergic to lights, could be a little afraid of the dark. It wasn't bloody fair.

He wasn't in the Burrow either. The noises of the ghoul was missing, along with the warmth and familiarity that he normally felt without even having to open his eyes. No, he was in none of those places … so where was he?

His eyes sharpened and he could see then that to the left of his bed there was a toilet that had a little curtain around it. Next to the bed was some sort of box thing that was on a metal rail and at the top of said rail there was a bag of what appeared to be blood, and then something else. That was it, the whole expanse of his room. A bed, a box and a toilet. He moved to stand up but then was stopped when he saw several tubes trailing from the box and the bags there down into a needle which was stuck to both arms and held there with tape.

The first thing he noticed when he looked down at himself, was the fact that he was completely and utterly naked, wearing nothing but these needles and a fresh clean bandage on his hands. He recognised the wire things instantly, something that muggles used in hospitals for ill patients who couldn't feed themselves, and needed blood. Along with them, there were several patches stuck all over his chest, legs and arms that were obviously there to monitor the heart rate and … well … something else.

But he couldn't be in a muggle hospital…

… not with the wings!

They couldn't see the wings!

He jumped to his feet, not even wincing when the needles in his arms twisted inside him. He used his still bandaged hands to tear off the tape and then all of the patches as well, throwing them to the floor. When he was free of all wires, he moved away from the bed completely and backed up.

Until he hit something.

He spun around quickly, fear clear in his emerald eyes but saw that it wasn't a person or anything like that. Technically, it wasn't a wall either. He reached out and pressed both of his palms flat against the glass that separated him from the rest of the large room. He could just see, off to the right, a set of double doors with a light on. Almost instantly his eyes started to itch as he looked and so he turned away quickly. This wasn't good.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? The glass was thick and he'd never be able to break it with his hand. The box thing that had been feeding him stuff would probably just bounce off it … and alert whoever was out there as well. He remembered that one time in the Zoo where he had managed to make a pane of glass disappear but knew that he was too weak now to even try it.

Perhaps … perhaps if he preserved his strength and gave it a little while, he would be able to get out of here. After all, using a little magic to escape was hardly anything compared to the wings sticking out of his bloody back.

Then again … there was always the possibility that he wasn't in a muggle hospital. There was always the possibility that he had been captured by Voldemort. The Dark Lord might get a kick out of stabbing people with needles, one would never know. Besides, he might find it mocking…

… this seriously wasn't helping.

He shivered and moved over to the far wall, as far away from the glass window as he could get and then sat down, facing the corner as he hugged his legs and pressed his forehead to his knees. He had his back to whoever might be watching and then shivered again, almost unconsciously shifting his wings so that they wrapped around him.

Of course, it registered as soon as he realised that he was alone that it had been him purring, but he didn't think anything of it now. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his father and his friends. He wanted them to tell him that everything was fine, and that he wasn't really an unnatural freak… and while they were at it, they could tell him that Voldemort tripped over a rubber duck and drowned in a puddle.

For this first time since all this shit started and things went so wrong, Harry let the hot tears slide down his cheeks as he tried to draw comfort off himself.

It must have been a good four hours later when the sun rose and natural light filled the room. Harry hadn't moved from where he was crouched, facing the corner and using his wings to offer heat and cover himself. He tensed when he heard the doors open and then the sound of footsteps approaching. More than one person.

So many worse-case scenarios had been plaguing his mind since he woke to find himself here, and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not when he realised that they weren't Death Eaters and Voldemort wasn't among them. He didn't have to look to know that, he couldn't sense any dark magic on them, and could, in fact, only sense magic around one of his visitors.

Still, he huddled closer to himself and tightened his grip on his knees, trying to make himself invisible. Listening.

"As you can see, the subject appears to be in distress. According to the machines, it woke at exactly five twenty this morning. When it woke, it appeared to be calm until it realised where it was. It panicked, the heart rate accelerating and then tore the detectors off itself."

That was a man's voice, someone that he didn't recognise at all. Harry shivered and a few more tears slid down his cheeks as he realised that they were talking about him. It. He was an it now.

"Now, now, Dr. Hamilton." A woman said firmly and Harry peeked at her from under his arm. Peeked at them all. There were six of them in total, all wearing long white lab coats and all holding clipboards and pens. He picked out the wizard of the lot immediately. An old man with sparkling blue eyes, a short white beard, and short white hair that was stood right in the middle of all of them. He didn't know why, but the man seemed to be emitting different colours, and transparent symbols floated around the man's head. "The subject, as you say, is quite obviously a male child."

"It is in my lab for study, it is an it." The man replied coldly.

Harry blinked and looked at the woman again, still not uncurling himself or even lifting his head. The woman stepped closer, ignoring the others, and then placed her hand on the glass, smiling.

"What's your name, young man?" She asked pleasantly and Harry finally lifted his head slowly to look at her, meeting her eyes. He licked his lips, and wondered whether to make up a new name off the top of his head, but then decided against it.

"Harry." He whispered in reply and then wondered why he bothered when they all glanced down and wrote on their clipboards again. He tensed at that and then pressed his head to his knees again, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"That's a nice name Harry." The woman said again, just as kindly, but Harry didn't look up this time. He didn't bother to acknowledge that she'd spoken at all.

"How did you find him?" Someone else asked and Harry listened again, wanting to know this himself… along with other things.

"We received a phone call from a Mr. Vernon Dursley who claimed that there was something unnatural and unusual walking the streets of Little Whinging. Normally, we would ignore a claim like this, but others have reported hearing strange noises, like a hissing or a purring, reported something stalking around the backs of their houses … thinking it was a burglar. We sent out our intelligence silently and found it unconscious." That same man said, the one that had been speaking at the beginning.

Harry closed his eyes again, sighing; he should have known that Dursley would sell him out like that. He'd probably been paid to keep his mouth shut about it as well. As if it wasn't enough to throw him out in the first place. Some family he had. He could feel eyes burning into him, but none as much as the ones belonging to the wizard. The wizard who would know who he was exactly, if he didn't know already. He turned away from them further, his wings blocking their view to him.

He jumped when he heard a door open, though, a door that was much closer than the one these doctors had come through. When he sensed someone approaching him. He jumped and turned around quickly, scrambling to see who it was with his eyes wide open in fear. It was the woman. He tucked his knees up into his chest again, his hands out as it to protect his face from blows automatically. He noticed that his fingers had lengthened again and his nails had once more turned into sharp claws.

The woman seemed to notice that too, because she slowed her approach and fell gently to her knees just out of reach.

"Hey, Harry." she said softly, friendly, as she reached out to touch him but stopped an inch away. "We're not going to hurt you, little man. I've got some food here for you, are you hungry?" she asked again and Harry lifted his head in spite of himself, eyeing the plate that she was carrying with hunger.

"W- What is it?"

"It's just a salad for now, Harry dear." The woman said as she moved closer, slowly, cautiously, until she was eventually sat down next to him with her shoulder touching his. "We ran a few allergy tests while you were asleep when we saw that you were ill, turns out you're allergic to salt … did you know that?" She asked conversationally and Harry shook his head, keeping his eyes on the food. Instead of asking for it though, he glanced up at her and worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Where am I?"

"You're at the Greater Manchester Research Centre, Harry. As you heard Dr. Hamilton say over there, you were found unconscious…"

"You're not going to let me go, are you?" He interrupted in a small voice and wasn't surprised when the silence stretched over them and she passed the salad to him to break it.

"I'm afraid not, Harry. Not yet anyway, there are things we need to understand." She settled for eventually and Harry closed his eyes, resting his head back on the wall as he ate a piece of lettuce. He knew that they had put something in his food, a crushed up powder and a little liquid, but he was just so hungry … soo hungry…

"I just wanted to be normal." He whispered to himself, about the scar on his head and the life that he had led so far. Fortunately, or not, the woman took it to mean the wings on his back.

"They are beautiful though, Harry. Incredibly beautiful. Were you born with them?" She asked again and he could detect a note of steel under her seemingly conversational tone and knew that she was just digging for information. The others were still watching, after all.

"I – I-" He paused and then hesitated, unsure of what to say. He knew that he had to get out of here at some point, and if he was taken from here by either Voldemort or Dumbledore, then he knew they would be killed (Voldemort) or obliviated (Dumbledore) so that they didn't get a chance to say anything … "I – I don't remember."

"No? What's the earliest you can remember then?"

"I – I'm not sure – two years perhaps?" He offered hesitantly, still munching on the salad. He could see the other doctors, except the wizard, scribbling what he said down in their notes, but jumped when he felt the woman's hand on the top of his wing.

"Who hit you, Harry?" She murmured softly and then smiled with pity when he blanched. "Your reaction leads to the conclusion of abuse, child. Perhaps even frequent abuse… who hit you?"

"My – my uncle." He muttered truthfully, bowing his head and looking away from her then. "I'm tired."

"You go to sleep then Harry; I'll see you when you wake up."

With that she stood up and ruffled his hair with a wide smile before she crossed the room and slipped back out of the glass door at the end. He knew the others were still watching him and so he finished off the salad and curled up into a tight ball in the corner, aware that he had been slipped a sleeping powder.

When he next woke up, it was to find that he hadn't been rescued from these scientists yet … but he wasn't in the same room he had been in before either. No, this time he was on the other side of the glass and was lying on a cold metal table with cold metal clamps around his wrists, ankles, and thighs. He was faced down so that as soon as he opened his eyes, he could see through the hole that was in the table for his face to go, and straight down at the tiled floor.

He could see a set off feet, and could hear several people moving around but he couldn't see much more than that. He tried to pull against the binds holding him, but as soon as they saw him do that, a hand pressed down between his wings and on the small of his back, forcefully. Holding him down.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked in a small and panicked voice, shuddering when a second pair of hands pushed his long hair out of the way to expose his neck and shoulders. One hand rubbed in soothing circles, or what he supposed was supposed to be soothing, while another ran lightly over the feathers of his wings.

"Shhh Harry, we're just taking a closer look. We wont hurt you." A woman said, that same woman from earlier, and Harry tensed again, trying to pull away.

"Stop it. I don't want to. Let me go!"

"We can't do that Harry, you know that." The woman said again, a little patronising this time and Harry bared his teeth to the uncaring floor, unable to wrench away from any of their touches.

He still couldn't believe this. To think that what? A fortnight ago? His only worries had been his uncle's beatings and the hovering threat of Lord Voldemort. Never would he have imagined that he would sprout wings… and even if he had, he would never have imagined being captured by muggle scientists. This was taking the piss. It was like something out of those horror movies that Dudley watched all the time.

Harry slumped forward in defeat and closed his eyes tightly as they started at the bottom. He felt soft fingers stroke along one of his feathers and was surprised by how sensitive it was, but before he could even try to ponder that and pretend this wasn't happening, they plucked it out of him. He cried out and tried to arch backwards, flinching as the feather was torn from him.

The useless woman continued to murmur what she thought were soothing words to him as the patch where the feather had been stolen was rubbed to ease the sting. He ignored her, unable to get his mind around the incredulity of the situation he found himself in now. Why did it always happen to him?

He didn't say a word or so much as flinch as hands continued their examination, feeling down his legs, up his back and around his sides to see if the bones felt normal. Idiots. Then the hands were on his wings again, pushing some of the feathers to the sides to get to the muscle and skin underneath.

As they did that, he could feel something growing in his chest, a deep rumbling noise, and before he could realise, with horror, what it was … he was purring. The hand on his back stilled for a minute before it carried on with a wry chuckle and Harry bit his lip to stop any further noise from leaving him.

"It purrs. Some relation to a cat perhaps? But the wings…" The man trailed off thoughtfully.

Those fingers prodded up and down the length and width of both wings, and then lifted them up to see underneath too. When they lifted them, the most peculiar sensation ran down Harry's spine and a tingling started in his stomach. He felt a gentle finger run down the length of the muscle underneath and the purring burst out of him and grew louder.

He stared down at the floor in mounting horror as he felt a twitch at his groin and then he was slowly hardening as they stroked and prodded at his wings. This was just… humiliating!

He shut his eyes tight again and tried to place himself in any other situation, thinking of everything and anything that wasn't in the least bit arousing. He nearly succeeded in stopping it completely when he thought about Voldemort, but then when fingers curled around the bit where his wings met his back, a wanton mewl escaped from him and he hardened the rest of the way.

"Stop it. Please stop it." he whispered, completely mortified. "Please … just for a minute… stop."

The hands stilled for a minute and Harry started to relax again.

"Arousal caused by examination, implies to the sensitivity of the … wing." The man that was prodding him said … and then he continued. Harry groaned and then bit his lip harshly, trying desperately to will it down, but the man carried on poking and stroking along the part where it connected to his back and soon Harry was panting, purring and wriggling, trying to keep himself under control. There was a spot, just underneath this same bit, that sent waves of pleasure throughout his whole body and Harry started begging them to stop again, begging them to give him a minute even as his hips rubbed against the table of their own accord.

Still they continued…

… and then he came.

He lay there panting and trying to catch his breath for a minute and he felt the subtle telltale signs of magic around his groin, a cleaning charm. He was grateful for that, but he was completely humiliated, he was scared and he wanted out of here now.

"Someone get me a vial for collect…"

He wrenched backwards, surprised when the metal claps broke in half and then he jumped to his feet and backed away from them all, the claws out in front of him like weapons, his eyes narrowed.

He hissed at the woman when she tried to come closer.

He ignored the gentle but scared voices that tried to tell him that it was okay, that it was a completely normal reaction his age, and instead searched around for the door. When he saw it, he charged straight for it. His magic was acting on its own now, throwing any items … and people … that were in his path, out of his way.

He could hear them scrambling over things to try and reach him from behind, but his eyes were fixed on the door. Therefore, he didn't see the wizard step directly into his path until he had crashed into him, and arms wrapped around him to stop him from falling backwards. Harry struggled against him, trying to get out of his grip without actually hurting him, but the arms merely held him in an embrace and then lips were pressed to his ear.

"Help is coming. Stay here where Albus can find you."

Then, before he could do anything, could even process the words that had been whispered to him, three men grabbed his arms from behind and heaved him back over to his glass cage, throwing him inside.

A/N: Mah! Thought of a few more while editing...Breathe Your Name Sixpence None The Richer, No Air Jordan Sparks&Chris Brown and Forgotten Linkin Park, Unforgettable Natalie Cole. Ha! That one's good. Obvious but good.

Err, #tries not to distract from the story# Please review! Not just to play the game. Tell me some stuff about the story too.

Goes back to thinking up more songs...