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Chapter Four—Moving the World

"What is it, Malfoy?"

They'd been at the top of the Astronomy Tower for ten minutes, and Malfoy still showed no inclination to talk. In fact, he was leaning over the wall with his hands gripping a parapet as if he was thinking about jumping. Harry had stayed back near the staircase to give him some breathing room, but now he'd lost his temper.

Malfoy started and turned to him. "Did you intend to wake us up?" he whispered.

Harry paused. "I intended to save your lives and heal you from the damage the Dark Mark was doing to you," he said at last. "Did that not happen for you?" Maybe Malfoy's extreme pallor was because he was still sick.

Malfoy gave a despairing laugh and bowed his head. His shoulders and hair shimmered for a moment, and then an illusion dropped away and he stood revealed as a glowing being, his skin seeming lit from within by a shimmering golden radiance, white wings projecting from his back, and eyes an intense silver.

Harry blinked. "You're a Veela," he said.

"And you're not succumbing to my allure." Malfoy's voice was deeper and more musical, like singing, but Harry privately thought it couldn't compare to Nott's voice. Then he told himself not to make those kinds of comparisons.

"No offense, Malfoy, but you've never been the sort of person I'm attracted to."

"And Theodore is?"

Call him Theo, Harry almost said, but pulled himself back. He had no right to dictate what someone else called Nott when Harry didn't even use his first name. "I don't know exactly," he said. "But I do know that he doesn't use the kind of allure on me that Veela do. And I wasn't falling all over myself like other boys did around Fleur Delacour when she was here during the Tournament."

Malfoy sighed and folded his wings close to his back. They shone once and disappeared, and a second later, the illusion settled back into place over his eyes and skin. "All that's true enough," he said. "I couldn't be lucky enough to make you fancy me."

"You'd want to?"

"I'd be more secure. I thought I was dying, Potter," Malfoy abruptly snapped, with more of a return of his spirit than Harry had seen since the war. "I hated it, but I'd accepted it. And now I'm alive again, and I don't know what people are going to think when they see my true form. Whether I'll be loved, or reviled the way Delacour was by some of her schoolmates and some girls here. Whether anyone will love me for myself." And he turned and glared moodily over the top of the parapet again.

"Oh," Harry said, as solemnly as he could. It was a problem, yes, but Malfoy was being as dramatic about it as he possibly could without talking about something completely different, Harry thought. "Yes, I see why you wouldn't like that. Would you like me to try to release you from the Dark Mark somehow?"

"No, Potter. Because then I would have another wrenching change back to an only human form. It seems obvious to me that power will lie in the future with those of us who can resurrect their heritage from Avalon."

"What would you like me to do, then?"

"Listen to me."

"Okay," Harry said, and settled in and listened as Malfoy philosophized about what it meant to be a Veela, and complained about how other people would probably have the same heritage, and mourned not being able to go around the school without a glamour wrapping him, and nattered on about how Harry had probably done everything on purpose to make his life as hard as possible.

It was both understandable and ridiculous, and Harry felt as though his face would crack from holding the serious expression on it by the time Malfoy stopped. He shot Harry a keen glance, as if Harry was the one wearing an illusion, and asked, "Has anyone else complained about their heritage?"

"It would be wrong of me to tell you if they had, Malfoy. You probably don't want me telling them about what you said just now."

"No, of course not! But it would be different if you told me, for example, what difficulties dear Theodore is having being part-satyr."

"Why?"

Malfoy looked flummoxed, and Harry had the strong impression that even his parents, when they had protected him and asked for his side of the story in the past, hadn't really required him to explain himself. "What? It just would, that's all."

"I'm still not comfortable talking about that kind of thing. But you must be friends with Nott because you call him by his first name, right? So you can ask him yourself, and he'd probably tell you."

Malfoy turned such a deep pink that Harry found himself wondering what was happening to his face under the glamour. "I, um, we're not as close as we used to be. And we had a conversation, and he made fun of me."

Harry blinked, "Oh," he said again. He supposed Nott maybe had less tolerance for Malfoy's antics if he had been listening to him in the Slytherin dorms for seven years.

"He said," Malfoy muttered, folding his arms, "that he didn't want to sleep with me. As if it was anything but an honor for me to ask him! As if Veela couldn't have anyone they wanted! He doesn't need to act all high and snobby about it just because he's a bloody satyr. And he didn't need to tell me that he had an eye on someone else in that condescending tone of voice—Potter, are you all right?"

Harry became aware that his expression probably didn't match the compassionate one he'd been trying to use. He hastily nodded. "Fine, Malfoy. It's just strange to hear about this."

"Yes, of course it would be. You're fully human, and a bloody Gryffindor to boot."

He sounded like he couldn't decide which of those was worse. Harry bit back his laughter and shrugged. "Well, maybe you can find someone who will want to sleep you and care about you for who you are, Malfoy. You can't know until you look."

"It's easy for you to say, Mr. Infernally Attractive."

Harry blinked once, twice, wondered if Malfoy was trying to say Harry had demon blood or something, and then decided he was just going to let that one go. "Yeah, sure, Malfoy," he said, as lightly as he could. "Anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No. I just wanted you to know how miserable you've made my life, Potter." Malfoy turned and stomped down the stairs that led to the seventh floor.

"Thanks for telling me!" Harry called after him, and was rewarded by a humph.

He shook his head and went to work casting some of the spells that would float stone blocks back into place and repair smaller cracks in the stone itself. He had become accomplished with those after he'd spent some time helping rebuild Hogwarts.

He got so caught up in the soothing, repetitive motions that he started when someone called out his name. Harry whipped around in a defensive crouch, wand out, and saw Snape's sour look as he had to deflect the block that suddenly winged towards his head.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, and put the block back in place, keeping an eye on Snape. The man was standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face that could probably melt paint.

But he didn't say anything, and if he had come to scold Harry about his life being miserable because of having survived Nagini, the way he had done the first few days after he'd regained consciousness, he was evidently waiting for the right moment. Harry managed to ignore him enough to repair three more cracks before Snape spoke.

"Is this what you intend to do for the rest of your life?"

"You mean, repair Hogwarts? No. At some point, we have to have repaired enough of it." Harry floated one more stone back into place, and grimaced as his thread and stomach both throbbed and growled at him. He wouldn't be able to do any more of this without some food and rest. "And I don't fancy myself as an architect."

"I meant, interfere in lives that are none of your business. Mr. Malfoy told me about how you forced his Veela heritage on him."

Harry glared at Snape, and then forced himself to look away. "I didn't know it would force anything on him. I just thought it would save his life."

"What if some people prefer to die?"

"That doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard Malfoy say. But it sounds like it probably applies to you."

Snape drew himself up until he looked like a looming dark pillar under the sunshine. "It does, Potter. You should have considered my feelings."

"There wasn't a whole lot of time to ask you." Harry couldn't entirely remember the spells he had cast when he was moving Snape to the hospital wing. There had been something that forced the blood in his body to remain in his body and circulate, and a spell to force his heart to beat, and something that had closed the jagged wounds in his neck for a few minutes before they opened again. "And after that, I thought I would leave the decision up to you."

Snape drifted closer, scowling openly. Harry scowled back at him.

"You are still holding me to life," Snape whispered. "Do you have the least idea what you have done with your little Dark Mark trick, Potter?"

"No," Harry snapped. "But you're being pretty dramatic even for you. What did I do, activate some kind of vampire heritage you have that's forcing you to remain alive eternally instead of dying at some point in the future?"

"Who told you?"

Harry stared at Snape with his mouth open. "You mean it's true? Oh, my god."

Snape whirled and stomped off the Astronomy Tower. If Harry squinted a little bit, he thought he could make out a gliding motion to Snape's steps that hadn't been there before, even when he was swooping in and out of a room.

Harry fell down on his back and stared at the sky above the Astronomy Tower.

"Your friends said I might find you here."

Harry nodded at Nott and stuffed half a sandwich into his mouth. The house-elves got upset if he didn't eat the food as fast as they put it on the table, which was why he avoided the kitchen most of the time. But this time, he could actually keep up with them, and at least two of them seemed happy about it.

Harry still thought about Dobby whenever he met an elf's eyes. It sent a fresh pang of grief through him, and to distract himself, he asked Nott, "So Malfoy went and whinged at you about his Veela heritage, and you wouldn't sleep with him?"

Nott blinked. He had the horns on his head at the moment, but not the hairy legs (not that Harry looked very hard) or the slit-pupiled eyes. He laughed softly as he sat down on the bench beside Harry. "I'm only interested in sleeping with one person in this school."

"I'm considering it."

Harry promptly stuffed the sandwich down his throat again, and then the next one, to keep from speaking more stupid opinions. Nott stared at him with wide eyes and tapped his fingers on the table. Harry heard a sharp sound and glanced down. Yes, Nott still had his claws. For some reason, the sight of them reassured Harry.

"What changed your mind?" Nott whispered.

"Malfoy came and whinged at me, and then Snape came and whinged at me for saving his life." Harry wasn't going to share the part about Snape's vampire heritage because of privacy and—well, because it was still tearing holes in his brain. "I thought they wouldn't dare because of the Dark Marks' control over them. But apparently the Dark Mark has almost no control."

Nott smiled slowly. "No. It creates a sense of obligation to help you, I think. But it certainly can't stop someone from doing what they want to do, or acting like themselves."

"And was your regular self always this horny?"

"I was only living half my life before you gave us our lineage back, Potter. I never realized how much I needed my satyr heritage to become myself."

"Explain that to me," Harry said, and then winced a little. "Sorry, didn't mean to practically order you around—"

"I know what you meant," Nott said, and let his chin rest on his hands as he stared at Harry in delight. Harry could feel himself flushing harder. "But I want to know, first, why you changed your mind."

"I didn't say that I'd changed it completely, you git. Just that I was thinking about it."

"I know what you meant," Nott repeated. "Tell me."

Harry leaned back on the bench and winced a little when his head thunked into the wall. He checked on Nott, but the git just kept watching him, apparently not put off by the sight of Harry acting like an idiot. Maybe that was a good sign for the future. "Because you look at me like you want me for me."

"Yes?"

"Not for my reputation, or my fame, or because you'd like to date the Chosen One. If I was a completely ordinary wizard who for some reason had the power to change the Dark Marks and free your Avalon heritage, I think you'd look at me the same way."

"Has that been so rare in your life? I had the impression that Weasley and Granger, at least, were true and loyal friends."

"Oh, they are," Harry said, and smiled as he thought about the way that they had stood at his side, had come back to his side, had defended him from people and gone with him into danger. "But they don't want me that way. They're completely obsessed with each other."

"And Weasley's sister?"

Well, Harry had known Ginny would come up. He grimaced a little. "I can't get rid of the notion that she still fancies me more because I rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets than for any other reason. I might be wrong. Maybe it's unkind of me. But I can't stop thinking that."

"And me?" Nott barely framed his lips around the word.

Harry looked him right in the eye. "I don't have the feeling that you're trying to gain anything from me that you haven't told me about. You're glad that I gave you back your satyr heritage. You want to sleep with me. You want to be close to the center of power, maybe, but I can accept that if someone admits it. And if it's not their only motivation."

Nott leaned forwards quickly across the table and grasped Harry's wrist. Harry groaned aloud at the prickle of nails on his bare skin and the warmth that promptly skated through him. "It is so far from my only motivation," Nott whispered, voice low enough that Harry nearly lost the sound of his words under the sensations traveling up his arm.

Harry licked his lips and met Nott's eyes. "Your turn."

"I grew up hearing tales of the heritage that used to belong to my family, and never thinking that I could do anything to get it back," Nott murmured, fingers still caressing Harry's wrist. "Every Nott hears them, of course. But some are affected more than others, can feel that loss more than others. I was one. My father, not as strongly. Now—I can smell and hear and taste and feel everything more intensely. I never want to go back to what I was, Potter. To that half-life."

"Can you show me?"

"I don't think we have a Pensieve here."

Harry idly wondered if Dumbledore's Pensieve was still floating about somewhere, but put the thought aside. "Not memories. I asked Hermione the other day, and she said there's a charm that can let someone share emotions and sensations. Physical sensations, I mean. Not exactly memories. But I'd like to know what it's like for you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know you, Nott. I didn't know you before the war at all, and I don't know what you've changed from."

"And because you're still concerned that I'm under a feeling of compulsion from the Dark Mark. Is it that hard to believe that someone wants you for you, then?"

Harry flushed, but he answered resolutely, "I just told you how I'd never been sure I had that before."

Nott considered him deeply, leaning back in his seat and taking his hand with him. Harry kind of hated the way he immediately missed the prickling feeling of claws on his skin.

"All right," Nott said. "But you have to understand that this charm is intimate, Potter."

"Well, I mean, it shares emotions. I thought it would be."

"Not like that," Nott said, and frowned at him. "It completely drowns you within the emotions while you're experiencing them. A Pensieve always preserves a distance, and lets you remember that that the memories aren't yours. You can think whatever you want about them, including things that the original holder of the memories wouldn't agree with. While you have this charm cast on you, you'd think and feel as I did."

"And you think I wouldn't like that."

"I no longer hold them, because it would be hypocritical given my heritage," Nott said carefully. "But I did hold certain beliefs about blood purity. You would experience them, if only in the process of feeling them change to the beliefs that I hold now."

Harry gave it the silence and the serious consideration he thought it deserved, peering carefully at Nott. Nott looked back at him. His hand was clasping a fork Harry hadn't seen him pick up. He wondered if Nott was using that to keep from reaching for Harry again.

"I want to see them," Harry said at last. "I want to feel them. I want to understand why you want me so badly, and I just—yeah, I have to be sure that there's no trace of a compulsion. I couldn't live with myself if I took advantage of you, Nott."

Nott gave him a smile that had something like sadness and something like self-deprecation in it. "All right." He took out his wand. "Granger told you the incantation for the charm?"

"Yeah. And she said that I had to speak it, but you had to make the movement with your own wand."

"Yes, that's one of the many peculiarities of the charm, and another reason it's not often used. Not everyone would trust someone else to point the wand."

Harry blinked. "But if you've come this far and agreed to have the charm cast on you, why would you distrust the other person?"

Nott smiled, a twisted expression. "That's one of the things you'll learn if you feel my emotions, Potter."

Harry leaned forwards. He felt reckless and half-giddy, the way he used to get before Quidditch games, when he knew a pattern would unfold, one that would change and break into something new, no matter how many strategies they'd tried to plan out beforehand.

He was about to get to know someone new. Someone who wasn't fully human.

Someone who wanted him.

"Ready?"

Nott nodded once and lifted his wand. Harry spoke the incantation as the wand swirled in the circle Hermione had told him to expect. "Vita mente."

And the world vanished around him.