"You're certain that you wish for Professor Hagrid to collect the new arrivals, Harry? There's no trouble in accompanying our dear friend down to the station in the carriages, I'm sure he would appreciate the company," said Dumbledore calmly, if a little uncertainly. He was still slightly pink cheeked and chagrined from the earlier embarrassment of Molly and Minerva scolding him, but he seemed to have gained some confidence from sequestering himself away in the solace of his office for the few hours it took for lunch to pass by and for dinner to begin cooking in the kitchens. It still rankled the motherly instincts in Molly, Narcissa, and Minerva.
"Harry will stay," Draco said decisively, not looking away from the book leveled on his lap to the old wizard. It was an advanced Potions book Harry assumed Snape had given him, and looked well thumbed through, the pages in surprisingly fine condition and gently handled the longer Draco read it. He had sat down with it the moment Dumbledore had reentered the Great Hall and had his nose stuck to the pages in the most dignified position he could manage.
Harry glanced at the pages curiously, scanning the diagrams and moving pictures of complicated ingredient harvesting with interest. He felt, more than saw, Draco giving him an intense look. "What potion is this?" He asked, flushing slightly at the continued staring.
Draco smirked devilishly then, sharp fangs peaking out from under his top lip in his highly interested observation of Harry. Harry's flush darkened, as did his heavily lidded eyes, at the look. "It's the Draught of Endurance," Draco said lowly, a dangerous leer that set Harry's heart racing unevenly in his chest upon his features. "Not that we'll need it at any time in the future," he murmured quietly, only for Harry's ears.
"Harry?" Dumbledore prompted the blushing brunette gently, faintly chiding.
Harry inhaled deeply and looked away from his mate before he could be sucked into their heated depths. He looked at Dumbledore, unaware that he was glaring. "I won't go unless I need to," he said firmly. "Professor Hagrid has been escorting students safely from the station to the school for decades, he would surely be the more experienced and safe to travel with guide rather than me."
"I'm not saying that he is undeserving of such an honor, Harry," said Dumbledore in reply, frowning slightly. "I merely believe that the students would be safest with a Guardian being, and a well-known friend, escorting them from Hogsmeade Station. And as you are their friend, I wanted you to help them."
"It's not my job," Harry reiterated.
Dumbledore hummed sadly, but acquiesced to their wishes with an inclination of his head. "If you would notify me if you change your mind, I would greatly appreciate it," he said, before slowly walking off to converse with the four Heads of Houses that were situated at the end of the long table.
A growl came from low in Draco's throat, and before Harry could even think about what he was doing, his hand was worming its way onto the blonde's lap and gripping one of the tensely coiled fists there. The fist loosened, softened, and eventually entwined their hands together.
"Are you OK?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco nodded stiffly, the growl dying off in his throat as Harry's sweet scent rolled around him in waves. It took him a while to answer, and when he finally did, it didn't exactly reassure Harry that he was calm. "I'll be fine as long as you aren't used like a bloody servant or slave," he uttered, his fangs sliding completely out into view. "You deserve only the finest of things in life, and if anyone so much as tries to tell you otherwise, there will be Hell to pay."
A small, but genuine smile wormed its way onto Harry's generous red lips, and the look distracted Draco enough to lose sight of where his train of thought had been heading. Harry's smile turned a little sad, but didn't fade any. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," he confided in a whisper. "Even if it did end in a threat and was spoken through fangs."
"It's not like I'm lying," Draco grumbled, going a little pink cheeked at Harry's soft look. "You mean a lot to me already, even if our bond is new and just beginning. I'm not going to let anyone order you around, especially people who demanded you save them from the Dark Lord when they themselves could've done something."
"You mean to say you won't let anyone order me around," Harry said in a lilting voice. "Does that include yourself?" He asked with a teasing grin.
Draco's eyes dilated and darkened to the color of coal, a very slight ring of bright silver edging the fathomless depths in the darkness. "I don't need to order you around to get what I want," he drawled, a sultry smile exposing those fangs as he ran his eyes up and down Harry's lithe body wantonly.
"Really?" Harry breathed, shuffling a little closer to the blonde. Draco stiffened, in more ways than one, Harry noticed. "You think I'll just bend over for you whenever you want me, let you take me? Let you bite me?"
Draco's breathing sped up, and Harry watched in barely concealed amusement as the blonde readied himself to pounce. Harry himself was feeling the effects of his own words, of wanting exactly what he had said to his mate. But they were in the Great Hall, in front of everyone they both cared for and didn't like. It was awkward, and stifling.
"Yes," said Draco hoarsely after a moment of panting silence, eyes staring unblinkingly into Harry's as if to silently command Harry to move closer. As if commanding Harry to give himself to Draco, body and mind. Harry felt naked underneath the gaze, heart bare for the blonde's perusal. He'd only ever felt that way around Draco.
Focus, idiot, Harry inwardly snapped at himself, Remus and anyone the least bit important to me really don't want to see Draco and myself having sex in the Great Hall, Harry chided himself. Outwardly, Harry swallowed heavily and shuffled away to a safe distance on the bench, a shaky smile sliding onto his lips when Draco tried to follow him with an obsessive glint in his eyes. "Well you better be patient, because I'm not likely to be doing that for many years yet," he said in a small voice, trying to sound cheerful and teasing, but sounding flat and shaky instead.
Harry hoped to God that no one had listened to them, it was embarrassing enough for them to have seen him so .. flustered. Especially with the looks Draco had been giving him, and the words they'd shared. But it was just as likely for everyone to have been watching them as the sun was sure to rise every day. Even then Harry could see Hermione's flushed cheeks and Ron's awkwardly averted stare. Not to mention the perked ears of every creature in the room. Blaise looked slightly winded and flushed.
Draco seemed to have gotten control over himself again, and the steel band of his Malfoy mask snapped back into place. He set to the task of closing his Potions book and neatly placing it on the table. "Yes, of course," he said, slightly strained. "But perhaps these things are better left to the confines of our bedchamber."
"You don't honestly believe that you'll be sleeping in the same bed now," burst Hermione incredulously, seeming to give up her pretense of ignoring them in favor of scolding them. Harry noted that her flush was still apparent. "You're both still underage, and hormone riddled teenagers. I can't believe you'd even think about that! Surely you'd want to be careful with Harry's unique abilities, because, quite frankly, we have no idea what changed in his body. He could have grown organs or lost them entirely. He could very well be able to conceive now!"
Ron gaped at Hermione for a moment, before turning to Harry in wide-eyed astonishment. He blinked owlishly, and seemed to suddenly see something in Harry that he hadn't noticed previously. "Harry," he said unsteadily, as if fearful. "That could be the reason why you have such a feminine figure. You could have little baby Harry's running around -"
"It's an entirely plausible theory," said Lucius, sounding polite and calm and every bit the aristocrat even when cutting Ron's unattractive gaping off at the root. "Which is why Draco and Harry will be sleeping in the same bed together from here on out."
Hermione glared at the cool elder Malfoy angrily. "I won't have my best friend becoming a mother while still in school," she declared, glancing protectively at the silent and stunned brunette. "I don't know how you run things in Malfoy Manor, Lord Malfoy, but here at Hogwarts we have things called common sense drilled into our heads, and what that allows us to grasp is called logic. The only way to keep Harry as pure as he is and without child is to keep Draco away from Harry's bed until we've graduated. If you have any semblance of respect for Harry, you will keep your son away from him," she seethed, her proud brown eyes narrowed into slits.
"Or are you so desperate to continue your line that you'll have your son impregnate his mate before they're ready?" She added in a poisonous voice.
Draco hissed.
Lucius stiffened with anger, his upper lip quivering very faintly. "You would do well to keep your thoughts to yourself, Miss Granger," he said in a very, very cool, stony voice. "You know not the affairs of my family and it would be best if you did not voice your so obviously biased opinions."
"When it comes to protecting Harry, my own family, I'll do everything I can to keep him safe," Hermione retorted hotly. "You trying to get him knocked up is just prodding a sleeping dragon."
"He is a part of my family now," said Lucius icily, his eyes as hard as marble. "But it is hardly my choice if they should decide to have their own children. I cannot decide for them when they should become parents, and I will not force my opinions onto them."
Hermione reared back as if struck, her hand actually flying to rest on her cheek. "Are you implying that I'm forcing my opinions on them?" She asked shrilly, aghast.
Lucius offered a stiff, bone-chilling smile that prodded shivers up and down the spines of those nearest. Narcissa seemed unaffected by it, however, and was instead staring holes into Hermione's face. "Draco has told me all about you, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled. "How stubborn, narrow-minded, shrewd, peremptory and completely and utterly insolent you are. You bring your notions of proper etiquette from a world of the mundane and Muggle and expect the thousands of years of Wizarding traditions to bow down before you, to be replaced with your Muggle expectations. You call us bigoted, racist and cowardly, but we have been this way for thousands of years, and will continue to be so for many more."
Hermione blazed a bright red, her cheeks flushing a such a vibrant maroon color that put shame to the Weasley's' red hair, but she didn't back down from the derogatory and condescending sneer from Lucius. "If you keep to those traditions we'll all die out!" She said fiercely, looking around her with burning brown eyes. "Adopting the modern traditions is the only way to keep witches and wizards from becoming extinct, we must adapt or die. If we took in what the Muggles have then we can prosper more than we ever have in the past, if only you'd look past your wine glasses and grand Ministry functions."
"We cannot integrate the Muggle ways with our own, Miss Granger," said Marianna seriously, but not unkindly. Even if she did wrinkle her nose when she decided to speak to Hermione. "If we did, our culture would almost immediately die out and be forgotten. Many of our more important traditions have already faded through time because our population has an excess in Muggleborn witches and wizards that brought their own more favorable pastimes."
"But don't you see?" Hermione asked, as if she couldn't believe that they didn't understand. "Maybe these traditions should be forgotten. I've read almost every book I could get my hands on in the library on Wizarding culture and every single tradition always had some sort of slur against Muggles and Muggleborns. I and others are still glared at from time to time and looked at like scum because we come from a world they don't understand! If we showed them what it's like living in the Muggle world, then perhaps -"
"It would never work," Narcissa said stiffly, cutting Hermione off with a swift gesture of her hand. "There is an unfathomable abyss between the Muggle world, and our own, and it should make you wonder just why it is there. Our worlds are not meant to be bridged. Muggles are not to know of our existence, for the plain reason that we cannot allow them to. The last time we were found out, brought about the time of the Witchcraft trials and the burning of our people.
"Can you really tell me that the Muggle world has sophisticated and civilized itself enough to allow us to live in harmony? To live in a world where select people have magic, and others do not and therefore create a divide in the people? Can you tell me that we would not be hunted down and exterminated like rodents, just because we have an innate magical core that allows us to do the impossible?"
Hermione stared at Narcissa, for once, out of her own depth for an argument. She sat down in her seat slowly, as if suddenly realizing that she was standing.
Narcissa nodded abruptly. "I thought not," she said curtly, before turning to run her hand over her husband's tensed arm comfortingly.
Hermione still looked close to tears, but she was quiet and pensive, soaking up the reasoning behind Narcissa's argument like a sponge. She was trying to process the idea that maybe she was slightly wrong in the aspect of joining the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. After all, Muggles did try and burn the witches and wizards they discovered, and some of their own that didn't actually practice witchcraft. Perhaps the Muggle world wasn't ready for them, at least not the decade and time, but it would be some day in the future, and she was hoping that with the future, comes a great change in the Muggle world that would force them to allow the strange and new.
She hoped that she would be a part of deciding the integration of Muggle and Magic.
Seeing Narcissa tending to her tense husband, Harry quietly turned to Draco, surveying the damage Hermione had done. He winced. Draco was tensed and practically bulging with anger, looking so angry that steam ought to be pouring out of his ears and his eyes leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Harry scooted closer to Draco and slowly placed a hand on the blonde's hand, giving Draco time to pull away if he was so angry. But when he didn't move, Harry gently began prying the stiff fingers from their fist, lifting them slightly to give him room to slide his fingers own in their spaces. He decided, rather belatedly, to move right up against Draco's side.
After a tense moment where nothing happened to change Draco's posture, and Harry began to have doubts, Draco began to relax and slowly disentangle his hand from Harry's. It surprised Harry when instead of being pushed away, the arm was instead pushing the thick, silky weight over his left shoulder and then settling around his waist. A deep purr reverberated from Harry's chest as Draco's large hand played with the thick, slightly waved raven locks, the tingles spreading all over Harry's scalp as if Draco was rubbing his head instead.
They both sank into each other, finally contented.
Until the very same feeling Harry had had when the werewolves attacked, came back in full throttle. His wings sprung from his back, dislodging Draco's arm without hurting him, and his mind was slammed into that odd aura-seeing perspective. The train had pulled into Hogsmeade, and Hagrid was trying his damnedest to ward off the werewolves darting at him.
Harry hissed deeply in anger, unaware of the distinctly ancient sibilant tongue he possessed spilling forth words unheard for thousands and thousands of years. He jumped back from the table, almost taking Draco with him, and headed for the doors, anger and fierce determination causing his green, green eyes to glow vibrantly.
"Don't kill them, Potter," said a soft voice.
"Can't promise," Harry replied, his voice slightly distorted with the growls humming in his throat as he slipped out of the hall, and out of sight.
Harry made quick work of the track from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, his wings pumping furiously and propelling him much faster than any old Firebolt or broom ever could. He'd unfortunately lost his shirt to his wings, which had torn the back of the fabric so fiercely that the cloth was no match for clinging to his chest and arms, but he was unaware of the nippy air. He could hear everything; the screams, snarls and howls, the shrieking of metal tearing from claws. He could also smell blood.
With a high pitched whistling sound from his sharp wings slicing the air, the large pack of wolves scattered from the half-closed and dreadfully torn door of the train. They had been furiously tearing at the door with their teeth and claws to get in, and the blood that Harry could smell was coming from inside. Angered, the wolves whirled to face him, their muzzles stretched back over numerous sharp teeth that gleamed brightly against their varying dark furs. They ignored the small shriek that came from inside the train, and instead prowled closer to the gliding Valerian that was lowering the closer he came.
Harry landed gracefully before them, dropping immediately into an offensive crouch, his blade-sharp wings arched high over his head and ready to slash down. He was ready when the three large wolves barreled towards him, and he brought his wings down to their leg level, striking out straight and severing their legs off at the joint. They landed with sickening thumps at Harry's feet, their teeth still snapping at him to grab some sort of purchase of skin, but with an impressive sweep of his enormous wings they were scattered and thrown into the walls enclosed around the platform. They fell heavy, bloody and unconscious.
Another three wolves converged on him when they perceived that he was distracted, but this time they had seen what Harry had done to the others, and had leaped instead of run at him. It mattered not to Harry, as with a sharp swing of his head, his hair whipped out and slashed ribbons off all three wolves, blood spattering the side of the train in a shade slightly lighter than the paint. He extended his wings and with expert precision he sliced legs from joints and once again swept them to the walls all while they were still in the air. In a repetition of the previous three wolves, they fell heavily onto the stone, blood-spattered and unconscious.
There was a sudden wall of enraged howling, a cacophony that ached and blotted out the hearing that he needed. It echoed dully in his head. Harry roared at them to shut up, his voice overpowering theirs combined with his anger, and he struck out at those remaining, whipping legs out from under more wolves, even as they leaped in the air to avoid the sharp wings. His ears were ringing by the time they fell unconscious to the floor, and not so dully, Harry wondered how he seemed to always come out on top of a fight with numerous werewolves.
It was random, and slightly distracting, but Harry couldn't help it.
How had he gotten away with rendering many werewolves unconscious and maimed without himself being harmed? Was it his Valerian nature to be indestructible? Or was it good fortune?
Deciding that perhaps this wasn't the time, Harry scanned the surrounding area for any other wolves that may emerge and try to attack. When nothing was revealed, Harry straightened from the crouch and stalked to the door barely hanging onto its hinges. He gave it a sharp rap with his knuckles and stepped back.
"Who's there?" Asked a deep, growling, pained voice. Hagrid.
"It's Harry," Harry answered throatily, a slight semblance of a growl still in his voice. "I've dispatched the werewolves, but you'll need to be cautious, they may wake at any time. Though they may not be able to move far."
"Harry doesn't talk like tha'," Hagrid said suspiciously. A pair of narrowed black eyes surrounded by the brown fuzz of a beard appeared in the sliver of space in the door. They widened when they caught sight of Harry. "Blimey . . . yer covered in blood!"
Harry nodded, glancing around at the unconscious wolves suspiciously. They hadn't moved yet, but he was sure that they would soon. "We'll need to hurry," he told Hagrid. "I don't know how long it takes for a werewolf to gain consciousness again, and we really need to get back to the safety of the castle."
Hagrid nodded, before he disappeared from the crack in the doorway to go to where Harry assumed the girls and their families were. He reappeared a full minute later, and carefully pulled the shrieking metal door open to allow them an exit. He had to basically shove himself through the tiny doorway, and Harry marveled at how such a large man as Hagrid could even get in. His question was answered by the extra shoving on the other side, and Hagrid fell out with a painfully loud thump.
Hagrid was the source of the bleeding.
"You've been bitten," Harry observed quietly, moving to help lift Hagrid from the floor.
The half-giant appreciated it his effort, and thanked him with a grunt. "Jus' my leg," he said, gesturing to his right leg. "Better tha' than the girls, ay?"
Harry nodded carefully, trying to keep Hagrid balanced on the heavily bleeding leg. It had been torn into savagely, tendons and muscle hanging off by skin and veins. Harry slapped a hand onto the knee above the injury, shocking and stupefying Hagrid when a tourniquet appeared out of no-where and wrapped securely above the wound, and a thick layer of medical gauze and material dressed the wound to keep it together. It would stop the blood flow, but they needed to hurry to Hogwarts. It was a messy, messy wound that would take weeks to heal. Harry was sure he had seen the bone.
"Think you can reach the carriages, Hagrid?" Harry asked, carefully letting the half-giant go to walk on his own.
Hagrid waved him away, a thankful but slightly pained smile buried underneath the handfuls of hair on his chin and cheeks. "I'll be fine, Harry," he reassured the teen. "I'll get them to the carriages. Yeh needin' any help with the dogs?"
Harry shook his head, ignoring how his hair slivered over his back and left trails of blood sliding down his skin. It would be another long night in the bathroom scrubbing his wings. "I'll dump them someplace secure and follow the carriages up to the school," he told Hagrid. "You just get them there and all will be well."
Hagrid nodded as if Harry had said something profound and important and hobbled away, shuffling the large group of witches and wizards all gagging and pale at the horrendous sight around them. He sidled up to who he guessed was Pansy Parkinson -he knew her by her bobbed black hair-, she was pale and horrified, her eyes fixed on the bloody wolves and the legs lying in puddles a little ways away. She hadn't moved to join her parents.
"Don't look at them," Harry told her quietly, calmly, reaching out a hand to gently push at her shoulder.
Pansy looked at him and shuddered, her eyes widening at the wild state he was in. She took in the large, black wings, the markings on his arms that were covered in blood, and the caring protectiveness in his face. Tears welled up in her eyes, unbidden, and Harry was suddenly cradling her, wrapping his arms carefully around her.
"It's s- so horrible!" She cried, clutching at his upper arms, and burying her face into his neck. Harry was surprised to note that he was a few inches taller than her, but no less pleased for this instance.
"I know," Harry said, sighing, feeling liquid fall down his neck. She was crying. "But you need to ignore them for the moment and join the others, because these wolves aren't dead. They're unconscious and they could wake up at any time."
Pansy didn't seem to hear him, and was instead pulling him closer. Her hands ran down his arms gently, almost tickling him, and came to wind around his small waist. Harry jerked back when he felt Pansy nuzzle into his neck, her breath coming out in a hot whoosh over his skin. He growled low in his throat, warning her not to do anything without words. If she wanted to keep her head where it was, connected to her neck, that is, she'd take the warning to heart.
But no such luck.
"You smell . . . good," she whispered, her voice husky and throaty. Harry snarled loudly this time, and snapped his hands around to where her hands were fondling his bum, ripping them from their purchase. She whined, pulling at his hands to let her wrists go. "Please, let me feel you, let me taste you. You're incredible," she simpered.
Harry pushed her away, as gently as he could afford in such an unbalanced state of lucidity and red hot anger. "I have a mate," he growled at her, voice distorting into that odd tone once more. "Now go to the carriages, they'll be waking very soon. And they'll be very angry," he said darkly, gesturing to the wolves with a blood-soaked hand.
Pansy whimpered at the mention of the werewolves, and hastened to obey, dashing off in the direction Harry had seen Hagrid and the group of panicked people lumber off to. That included Pansy's own parents, both of whom hadn't even noticed her absence from their sides.
And that left Harry and the ten, bloodied and unconscious werewolves in the still and silent night that enveloped Hogsmeade station.
-oOoOoOoOo-
Harry ended up stashing the werewolves in a large conjured sack and dragging them behind him after all, their severed legs and unconscious bodies all stuffed in securely and painfully, and the opening knotted tightly closed. It was one of those heavily complicated knots that left you cutting a bag or sack open out of desperation to get it open. He'd banished as much of the blood from the platform floor as possible, also ridding the Hogwarts Express of the terrible spatters of blood that he'd had no clue of how they'd ended up there in the first place. He had tried his luck at fixing the door as well, and was more than relieved when it had mostly mended and slid easily back into place. Though the paint was a bit scratched up.
He'd been so very glad that no one had witnessed the slaughter. It would have been unbearable to try and explain why a winged Harry Potter had been slicing through the werewolves like they were butter.
In order to actually get to Hagrid and the others, Harry had to run his way in the direction of the trail that was used by the carriages, his wings not having the strength yet to carry himself and ten werewolves in a heavy sack that amounted to dead weight. But he was still fast on his feet. Not that he was very caring if the heavy impenetrable sack bounced off the floor or trees as he went, most likely concussing the wolves even more.
"There's Harry!" Hagrid's booming voice called out from the head of the line, sounding mightily relieved, but heavily exhausted.
Harry slowed down his pace when he spotted the slow moving carriages and the trail they were on, and he had no idea the sight he made to the onlookers as he walked alongside them, slowly making his way up the line to where he saw Hagrid's head sticking out of the first carriage. His creamy skin looked practically white compared to the bright red blood splashed all over his body, covering parts of his shoulders, chest, arms and mostly soaking his long, sweeping dark hair and his tall, imposing, translucent, midnight colored wings. His torso was bare to the nippy air, having lost his shirt to his wings, and his fitted jeans were patched with discoloration from the blood that spattered them. He'd somehow even lost his shoes.
Not that it mattered any to Harry, as they had been rather uncomfortable and posh-looking.
Obviously Draco had picked them out for him.
"You got 'em all in that?" Hagrid asked warily, eyeing the large sack dragging noisily on the ground behind the little Valerian. "I thought ya were stashing 'em somewhere and getting them later."
Harry's lips twisted up into a smile, revealing two large, long and pointed pearly teeth that unknowingly scared the others. "I couldn't find anywhere secure for them to be put, so I thought conjuring a sack and bringing them with us would be best," he said to the lolling heavy head that was slowly nodding and moving back into his carriage.
He heard a dozed mutter of acceptance come out from Hagrid's carriage, before the man was silent.
A head of long blonde hair suddenly appeared out of one of the carriages windows, and a beautiful pale face belonging to Daphne Greengrass, peered at him curiously. And a little bit incredulously. "You're going to attract the other werewolves' attention by dragging them around with us!" She screeched, her eyes that always used to be narrowed in a sneer, were wide and fearful. "You'll kill us all!"
Harry regarded her coolly. "If anything, I'm attracting their attention because I killed at least twenty of them in the span of a week," he said bluntly, hardly caring to inwardly point out that he was rounding up the count. "If they want to attack, they'll have to go through me, and that isn't a very easy thing to do. I've yet to be beaten by an enemy."
"What the Hell are you?" She asked, sounding faintly horrified and fascinated.
Harry gave her a level look. "I'm a Valerian," he told her, before stalking up further than the carriage where she and her parents were situated, and up to Hagrid's carriage, which was still silent.
"Don' listen to her, 'Arry," Hagrid told him faintly when he arrived beside the window, an unhealthy white shine to his huge sweating face. He clumsily swiped a large hand over his forehead. "Is m' face bleedin'? Feels li'e it."
Harry inwardly snarled at himself, angry for letting Hagrid get to the state of blood-loss that he was in. What kind of a friend was he?
"Hold on, Hagrid, I'll get you to the castle," he told the half-giant quickly, before trying to scrape together a plan in his still only half lucid mind.
Hurrying to the back of Hagrid's carriage with the sack of wolves dragging behind him, Harry conjured a strong and long length of rope and tied half of it securely to the stretch of fabric just below the knotted opening of the sack, and then tied the other end of the rope to the back of Hagrid's carriage. He waited to see if the rope would hold as the Thestral pulled along Hagrid and the sack, before nodding. He had to scare the Threstrals to get them going, it was a stab in the dark at getting the Thestrals to move faster than their meandering pace. He was unsure whether Thestrals could be scared into running like normal horses, but he hoped they would. He didn't know if Hagrid would make it if they continued their pace.
Harry returned to the side of Hagrid's carriage, and spun on his heels to look back at the others trailing behind. "Hold on to each other!" He shouted, and gave only a few seconds warning to the people in the carriages, before suddenly launching himself into the air and letting loose a terrifying, ear-splitting roar that had the light smattering of night animals scattering from their nests and homes in fright and the fabric of the carriages quaking from the ferocity and the powerful gust of wind from his wings.
As if several people had smacked a hand on their hindquarters, the Thestral's suddenly shot off in the direction of the castle at a fast run, shrieks tearing from their throats in a blind panic as Harry flew overhead, their sensitized ears hearing his wings beating strongly against the wind. The Thestral lugging Hagrid and the ten werewolves' weights was slowing slightly, slowly losing energy, and Harry ducked down to cast a quick lightening charm on the sack of werewolves -once again angry with himself for not having done so before-, also applying one to its carriage. It managed to run faster after that.
"What the fuck's going on out there?!" Harry heard someone shriek from one of the carriages, and realized after a moment that it was a distressed Pansy Parkinson.
Oh, so she'd made it back to them in the end, he thought blisteringly.
Harry lowered himself closer to the ground carefully until he was flying by her carriage, and he grinned in at the unnerved Vampires anchoring themselves to the walls of the bouncing carriage. It really looked quite turbulent compared to his own easy flying. "Having fun?" He asked them with a devilish smirk.
Pansy gaped at him with an undignified squawk. "What the bloody Hell is going on?!" She yelled.
"Hagrid's lost too much blood to be safe, I had to get him to Hogwarts as quickly as I could," he informed her, before grinning, saying, "Enjoy the ride!" and taking off back up into the air.
The carriages made it to Hogwarts' grounds in record timing, and Harry speared through the air to position himself high above them for an air attack.
Just in case the werewolves got through Flitwick's wards and wanted to take revenge for their fallen. Harry hadn't been particularly discreet when handling the wolves.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry bellowed out, landing a little roughly beside Hagrid's carriage after a solid moment of surveying the grounds. It hadn't seemed like Greyback would send another handful of Weres, even when Harry had made sure to paint the forest floor with the fallen werewolves' blood.
It was a big 'Fuck You' sign in neon red flashing lights.
After moment of silence, he finally heard a stampede of feet rush out from the Entrance hall and down the stone steps, and he looked away from his large, pale and sweating friend to see every single person who had been in the Great Hall previously, assembled warily before the parked carriages. Even the previously missing Ernie was there, though he didn't seem like any help at all, as he merely stumbled in shock at the sight of Hagrid and himself and seemed ready to keel over.
"Narcissa!" A heavily made up woman cried desperately, darting forth from her carriage in a blur of silver and black to throw herself at the tall, elegant and serious blonde woman stood poised next to her husband and son. Narcissa had barely caught the plump brunette by the tips of her fingers before she was screaming again. "It was utterly horrible! Those damned dirty mongrels attacked us while we were getting off the train, took us completely by surprise, and one bit that great lumbering oaf Groundskeeper, Habridge or something - left such a ghastly wound on his leg! And then Potter, of all things, swooped in and killed them all! Blood was everywhere - everywhere I tell you!"
"Calm yourself and straighten up!" Narcissa snapped at the hysterical woman, pushing the her away by her shoulders. "You have a respectable reputation to uphold, Penelope. And that boy you called a thing, is my soon to be son-in-law."
Penelope gasped, appalled, a small and thick hand flying up to cover her heavily rouge painted lips. She stumbled back from Narcissa in dumbfounded shock. "That thing surely can't be!" She denied vehemently. "I am absolutely certain that my Pansy is your Draco's mate, the foundation for their mateship has been there for many years! I would know it!"
"It seems that you know very little of anything other than fantasies, Penelope," said Narcissa stiffly, her pale painted lips stretched thin and disapprovingly. "My son and Harry are soulmates, and you would do well to remember that Draco is extremely possessive over what belongs to him. Should you attack Harry in any way, it will be your head that he goes for."
"You dare threaten me?!" Squawked Penelope, hand flying to the top of her ample bosom. She wore the most comical expression of incredulity and anger. "You yourself would do well to remember just whom you're dealing with!"
Lucius turned sharp, piercing eyes on the tiny obnoxious woman, and even Harry felt like he was about two inches tall. "Do not forget your place, Penelope," he drawled in a slow, dangerous voice.
Harry shot a glance at Lord Parkinson, waiting to see if the wizard would do anything in retaliation for Lucius' subtextual threat. The tall, reedy Lord Parkinson was grimacing, his shoulders bunched up around his ears as if to protect himself from hearing anything that the imposing Lucius Malfoy said. It looked like something disgusting and gooey had been lobbed at his face, the slightly brown skin tinged with a sick green. Harry wasn't to know, but it was a test for the Lord Parkinson.
Penelope cowered under the stare, and stepped back in deference, bowing her head in chagrined silence. Pansy was staring at her mother with curiously shuttered eyes from her place by the carriage they arrived in, her hand being the only sign of her inner turmoil as it clutched at the door.
"He needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing immediately," said Poppy, breaking the silent night air with her voice shadowed by worry. She was hovering over Hagrid's revealed mangled leg with a look of concentration on her stern face as she weaved spells into the shredded tendons and flesh to keep it all together. Blood spurted out from a torn vein every second or so, turning the faces of those who were stood too close pale and green. "Ripped to pieces and losing too much blood too quickly," she tutted, lifting Hagrid from his carriage with a softly uttered spell and hurrying up the steps to the Entrance Hall. When the stern witch and her charge had disappeared from view, the air around them seemed a lot more heavy.
"What happened when you arrived at Hogsmeade?" Dumbledore asked Harry, seeming to snap to attention now that his hurting faithful friend was no longer in his presence. Many others snapped their gazes to the bloody Valerian that looked much like an avenging angel, his shoulders squared and almost defiant. "Did the wolves abandon their attempts to get to the students and guests and flee?" He asked.
"Not quite," Harry answered darkly, crooking a finger at the full, conjured sack still attached to the carriage Hagrid had been in. The rope disappeared, and a tendril of magic hooked to the sack and forcefully drug it to his feet, sickly squelching and whimpering sounds filtering unhindered through the impenetrable fabric. There were a few gags at the sight and sound, and many of the new guests turned their backs to the sack. "They're weak and they've lost a lot of blood, but they're still alive. However faintly," he informed them.
"They're also missing their legs," Pansy added faintly, haunted.
Harry nodded in agreement and turned to Snape. "You may want to take them to the dungeons before they wake, they've been unconscious for an hour and they will be waking soon," he said. "I don't know if many are alive still, but originally there were ten of them."
Snape nodded briskly and marched forward to claim the sack, his thin upper lip curled in disgust as another weak sound broke from the pile. Harry kicked it mercilessly, his face morphing into an animalistic mask of rage, before going forcefully calm and tranquil. Though, however brief the look of utter malevolence was, it continued to chill the bones of those present.
Snape didn't seem to notice Harry's small moment of animalistic anger, or if he had, he didn't consciously react to it. Instead he uttered the same charm Madam Pomfrey had used on the sack, and swept into the welcoming Entrance Hall in a flair of black robes, disappearing down the hallway leading to the dungeons eventually.
"You aren't hurt, are you?" Draco asked Harry quietly, his warm breath blowing softly on the shell of his ear. The blonde was careful not to touch the blood on Harry's skin, unwilling to touch something that belonged to the enemy, but he leaned in close.
Harry shook his head minutely, breathing in Draco's spicy scent through the thick tang of blood. "No, I just need a really long shower," he said softly.
"You don't want anything for supper?" Draco asked, gently nuzzling a clean cheek with his nose.
Harry so desperately wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around his mate, to take in Draco and roll himself in the spicy scent that said 'Home', but with the way he was caked in blood and almost swaying on his feet, all he needed was a shower and some sleep. Fuck food, he thought tiredly, I just want to get clean. "I'm not really in the mood for something to eat," he admitted quietly, glancing down at his body with a grimace. "I just want to get clean and go to bed."
Draco nodded minimally, continuing to nuzzle Harry's cheek with his nose so as to have some touch with his mate. "I'll join you," he said. "I could go for a nice hot shower."
Harry felt the beginnings of a smile start in the corners of his lips. "You just want to see me naked again," he deadpanned.
Draco smirked down at him devilishly, stepping back pointedly. "You bet your sweet arse I do," he drawled. "Now, shall we use the Prefects bathroom, or our own?"