Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Night Flight	By : Massanie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 77567 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I'm not making any money with this story

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
CHAPTER 14: Touch of Magic

CHAPTER NOTES:

Harry found himself faintly reminded of the day he had first held his arm out above a broom on the grounds of Hogwarts, preparing to will it into his hand. Now though, he stood there on the roof garden of Lanai Manor, nothing aside from a shallow stone fence separating him from the edge as he once again faced the prospect of flying for the first time. The first time with feathery wings instead of a wooden broom.

As a first year in Hogwarts he had started with empty hands, just like now, and a heart beating quickly in excitement, before the broom had flown into his fingers upon a single-worded command. How he wished it could be that easy right then and there as he stood with the two Slytherins behind him and the salty sea wind in his face, because there was no trace of the joyful anticipation he had experienced right before his first time on a broom: the feeling he had now was darker, more queasy.

His wings were still retracted, waiting under a layer of tanned skin and Harry couldn't bring himself to let them burst from his back as he still remembered how much that had hurt him in the hospital, for only some moments, that much was true, but still it was enough to keep him imprisoned in apprehensive indecision.

If he now thought about it, Harry couldn't really remember what had been so painful because at that moment he simply hadn't known what was happening to him, the pain had simply been there, refusing to be located or fought down, spreading down his back, along every muscle, every nerve. He never would have guessed that he had been growing bloody wings: only now Harry understood why the pain had appeared to originate from somewhere beyond his back but radiated into his torso in streams of liquid fire.

'What is wrong with flying on a broom?' Harry thought, really not wanting to extract them ever again; it was a choice he could have been content with, if there hadn't been the promise to Ives to accept his being a Vykélari to gain his freedom.

Well, maybe that wasn't exactly true: he couldn't rid himself of the image of Blaise that had burned itself into his mid. Blaise with his copper and bronze wings, looking so … indescribably in tune with every slight movement of the wind, so free, so agile, so beautiful in those few seconds that Harry had seen him fly… it had been more natural than flying on a broom could ever be.

Harry wanted that, too. If only he didn't have to transform again.

A shadow fell down onto the grass next to his feet and a moment later, Draco stood at his side and gave him an oddly serene smile that had Harry raise one eyebrow in questioning. The only answer he got, though, was a widening of that odd smile, then the blond turned away from him without further ado and let his wand fall into the open palm of his slender hand with a graceful twirl - that Harry might have been envious of had he found pleasure in such pretentiousness - and his wand arm moved in a complicated pattern, fast and sure as if he had done that specific spell million times before, an unintelligible murmur falling from his lips. Once Draco's smooth voice lapsed into silence, a small mirror appeared in front of Harry, gleaming in the light of the sun that still stood low behind them.

With another spell the mirror was enlarged until it measured several metres in length and was at least two metres tall, hanging in the air before them. A mirror. Well, Harry pondered with a half-smirk, that might explain why the vain Slytherin seemed so familiar with that particular charm.

It reflected the sunlight, throwing it back and illuminating Harry and Draco and Blaise, who stood quietly behind them; but the reflection was not blinding them, as if the brightest light was somehow filtered out. While Draco turned towards him, Harry wondered if that had been part of the complicated magic that the blond had performed; it hadn't been a normal spell for conjuring a mirror, that was all Harry could tell.

And so he nodded once in acknowledgement and respect. It was a nice bit of magic and a very neat effect even if he couldn't imagine having much use for it, especially during a flying lesson 'Why a mirror?' Harry questioned with his eyes as he looked at the pale, seemingly emotionless face.

"When you transform, Harry, I want you to look into the mirror. I want you to see your markings, your wings. I know you never did."

Harry rolled his eyes. Somehow he wished Draco and Blaise would stop acting as if he should be happy and eager about it all - like they were. He was trying, re really was: he would transform and do his best to adapt and learn. But after all that had happened during the last few days, with all that life altering changes forced upon him, could they really expect him to be exhilarated? Besides, transforming back into that bird-like creature just felt as if he was about to stick a toothbrush under the nail of his big toe and then kick against a solid stone wall with all his might: it was something all his instincts screamed at him not to do; he wasn't in any way masochistically inclined after all, even though with the way he kept antagonizing powerful wizards, that might have been a valid assumption. Now if he could fly without having to transform first…

Regardless of his conflicted feelings, his teachers went on with their instructions.

"Okay, since your magic is probably still a little bit wonky, we'll do it without evitable magic and teach you the necessary spells tomorrow or the day after."Draco said.

"Now take off your shirt."

Harry blinked, confused and a tiny little bit affronted. "excuse me?"

"Harry," Draco impatiently raised an eye-brow, "you really don't want to transform like that, do you? You would tear the shirt and the pressure on the growing wings is rather painful, or so I'm told. We'll show you tomorrow how to cut two slits into the fabric word- and wandlessly and close them afterwards but I think we should use less … expensive clothing for that."

"Oh. Yeah, of course." Harry muttered bitterly, thinking back to the hardwearing cotton T-shirt and the sweater he had worn that full-moon night, then quietly pulled off the light blue shirt, which Harry thought, was a lot thinner than what he had been wearing then and might have ripped more easily, not bruising his growing wings. It explained much and not for the first time, Harry found himself envious of the two Slytherins for having known, for having been prepared. He could have been spared so much pain and confusion, not to say panic.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Draco turn his head to share a quick glance with his fiancé. "I realise you were most likely completely dressed that night but it really does not hurt in any way if done correctly."

"What were you wearing?" Blaise asked softly from behind him.

Harry shrugged, scrunching the garment in his hand to a ball. "Sweater, T-shirt. I was cold that evening, it had pelted in the afternoon."

"Merlin."

"Yeah." Harry said dryly, a bitter smile on his lips. "Well, it's over. But it certainly doesn't make this any easier."

"It's a wonder your wings didn't break! The bones are hollow."

Harry shrugged. "I think someone cut the fabrics." He couldn't be sure though, at that point he had not been able to see or hear anymore.

"We don't have to do this, Harry." Draco said, stepping closer to him. "It's up to you. But knowing how much you love flying - this takes the experience to a whole new level. I'm certain you would enjoy it very much. But we don't have to do this," he repeated "not now while the memory is still so fresh."

Harry blinked as he watched the Slytherin, searching the grey eyes, wondering since when the teen who had always tried his best to cause him pain - physical and emotional - in the past, who had in his attempt to murder Dumbledore cursed Katie Bell and poisoned Ron, who had helped Death Eaters enter a school full of his own peers and friends and so many innocent children… since when did that teen care for the pain of others?

A moment later Harry looked away, feeling cheap. He had promised himself to bury all those things with those that had died. People did horrible things during war, and even the most peaceable persons could transform to monsters if left in the wrong peer group. Hermione had said that a group of seven intelligent people could have the group-IQ of a mentally disabled person and could act like a violent, uncontrollable mob. Like a pack of wild dogs riling each other more and more up in a hunt. No one could say truthfully what they would do in such a position if it hadn't happened to them yet. Muggles had even done experiments in that direction. Alarming and horrific, Hermione had called them. Even highly esteemed persons of good standing that usually commanded respect could be persuaded to the most cruel and vile deeds so easily it was disturbing.

And Harry believed that the blond had broken free of that at last, had found his conscience during the war or he wouldn't have stood witness for him.

Still, it was a little bit surreal, seeing him act so considerately.

"Why don't we just take another day off and tomorrow we will start working on your magic." Blaise asked then and harry looked at him sharply. It was just what he had wanted to do in the beginning, Harry thought. He could back down now, could turn away and never transform again by postponing it from one day to the other until the 51 days were over.

But the image of Blaise soaring above the water flashed in front of his inner eye again and Harry shook his head. No, he would fly, he decided, not only because he had promised he would.

In a certain light even, flying now was the most logical decision: Harry was already feeling apprehensive and it most likely wouldn't get better with time, his fears would set and become illogical and deep rooted, such is the nature of all fears. He should break through them now, while he still could. And then there was the promise to Ives that he would allow Draco and Blaise to teach him, and as a Gryffindor he wouldn't go back on his word. Also, being one of Hogwarts' lions, he just couldn't allow himself to chicken out of a simple task like flying. Damn it, he had been the youngest seeker in one century! And lastly, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do right now, anyway, was it?

Therefore, taking a deep breath, Harry shook his head and threw the balled up shirt behind him onto the ground - much to the raised eyebrows of his hosts. "Nah. We should do it now. I don't want you Slytherins to go and tell everyone that a Gryffindor dodged something you already succeeded in doing."

"Perish the thought!" Blaise smirked while Draco rolled his eyes.

"Besides," Harry added nonchalantly, noticing that both Slytherins seemed relieved by his yielding, "I want to know if I can beat Draco without a broom."

"Ha! You wish!" Draco sniffed in his haughtiest Malfoy-drawl, cocking his head.

"Well, we won't find out unless we try…" Harry countered before stepping towards the edge of the roof garden again, his heart beating way too fast despite his brave words as his green eyes fastened on his reflection in the oversized mirror. Even after two days (it was after all only his third day in Lanai Manor, the first of which had been very short because of his little outburst that had landed him in bed again due to magical exhaustion after not more than four hours) he found himself actually surprised that his body in human form hadn't changed at all after coming into his inheritance. Sure, the day before they had spent mainly down by the sea in the sun, which had lend his skin a nice, golden tan but aside from that, he was looking the same as before.

'I really could ignore all this for the rest of my life. No one would notice.'

Forcing himself to drop that line of thinking, Harry straightened out. It was already too late for that. People had noticed and though it might have been possible to cover his inheritance up, the Malfoys and Zabinis had made that impossible by making him disappear so suddenly from the public eye. There was no point in mourning squandered chances.

Taking a deep breath, Harry willed his wings into existence.

He anticipated pain, the searing pressure on his skin that he now knew would have been the fabric of his clothing that had cramped his wings together. Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

But the half-expected agony didn't come. Neither did the weight that his wings should have made his back bear and the mirror showed no change when, after some moments, he finally blinked one eye open.

"Harry?" A hand landed on his shoulder, warm and soothing, and Harry looked into the mirror again to see Blaise's dark eyes considering him. "You don't have to do this"

Frowning stubbornly, wondering why it hadn't worked, Harry once again imagined the enormous, emerald and bottle-green and spring-green appendages that would erupt from his body, tearing his skin. His shoulders tensed.

Nothing happened.

"Harry?" Blaise inquired again.

"It's not working." Harry said, bewildered, absentmindedly wiping one of his sweat-slick hands on his pants. "My wings won't come out…"

Frowning, he turned. "Am I doing it wrong?"

Blaise stared at the young submissive, his brows drawn together as he took in the other teen's posture that screamed of intense discomfort; the shoulders were hunched, every muscle tensed tightly as if he was already in pain.

He sighed then. There was no way that Harry would be able to bring forth his wings in the emotional state he was currently in. His magic would never do something that he clearly did not want, that might hurt him. And since Harry feared the transformation of his wings and maybe even disliked the new appendages as the most obvious change that had come with his inheritance, the very epitome of his unwanted legacy, it wouldn't allow the brunet to do more emotional damage by letting the emerald wings appear.

A Vykélari's magic was almost sentient in and on itself. It could act on its own to benefit its owner and it could refuse its service when it perceived a certain action as a danger. Obviously, the latter was the case now.

And yet, Harry had been able to change his eyes back and gain the Vykélari sight again, reluctantly but without any problems that Blaise knew of. It really seemed as if the young submissive majorly had a problem with his wings and not with the rest of his Vykélari attributes. From that fact sprouted the amorphous hope that maybe, maybe Harry's unwillingness to transform didn't stem from him rejecting his inheritance but from the fear of being hurt again, and therefore not from Draco's and Blaise's mistakes.

And fear, Blaise and Draco could work on with the young man, after all wasn't he a Gryffindor?

In fact it just so happened that Blaise had the perfect, quick solution for Harry's fear that would literally kill two birds with one stone. Blaise halted internally for a moment at that: what an unfortunate wording for a saying when applied to Vykélari - bird-like beings. But well, what he planned would be a valuable lesson for Draco and Harry and enjoyable for himself at the same time, if they'd let him do it that is.

So, encountering the still questioning green eyes, Blaise took a step forward, to answer Harry's inquiry. "I do have a guess on why you feel unable to summon your wings. Would you let me try something?"

Warily, Harry tilted his head, his eyes narrowed against the sun. "What?"

"Just trust me for a moment. Please." Blaise said, keeping his face as neutral as any Slytherin during a negotiation, though internally his stomach clenched in anticipation, waiting while Harry regarded him thoughtfully for some moments. "No spells?"

Blaise heard his lover sigh at the obvious mistrust that they still encountered and he could only agree: he had hoped for more after their last conversation.

"You promised to give us an honest chance." Draco said, lowly, careful that no hint of an accusation tinted his voice; which almost drew a smirk on Blaise's face: sometimes Draco seemed to confuse the Gryffindor with a full-grown Hippogryph that he needed to placate lest he be trampled and hacked to death.

"And I am" Harry answered, biting his lips. "Doesn't mean that I'll be trusting you blindly. Just that I won't outright refuse your proposals and … and advances." He said, his cheeks flushing faintly while he stubbornly encountered their assessing gazes.

"I …" he shrugged "I'll give you the chance to explain."

Blaise knew what those deep eyes were asking them for, those hauntingly beautiful wells of leaf green that he felt like falling into. And that almost had the tanned Italian lose his train of thoughts again: even if he might never love the brunet - though in time he believed that he could - he already was in love with his eyes. Just like Draco's silvery, white blazing gaze had been what had attracted him first and foremost to the Ice Prince. They spoke of a kind of intelligence that couldn't be achieved with books.

Blinking once, twice to recollect himself, Blaise focused on Harry's almost pleading expression again that told him - them - in no unclear terms that they would be wise to not ask for more, to not ask for the submissive's trust and unconditional cooperation while they hadn't yet proven themselves to him, because Harry couldn't give it.

And that, Blaise felt, was acceptable, even desirable, because while he wished for the submissive to yield to them, he could understand that this would, right now, be the sign of a level of naivety and stupidity that no mate of his should or could possess.

Therefore he answered the unspoken challenge with a lazy smile and a smooth "That is quite alright, Harry."

Then he let himself become serious once more, businesslike, just like he thought Harry might appreciate right now. "I think you are very apprehensive of your wings and that because of this, your magic won't allow the transformation. So I thought it might help if we tried to just show you. No spells." He added from under lowered lashes, wondering how Harry would react to his proposal once he understood its nature. As it was, right then he just frowned in confusion. "Why would my magic keep me from summoning my wings? I've had it under control for years."

"Your magic can't be controlled like that anymore, Harry." Draco shook his head. "If you just tap it a little bit, you can still direct it with a wand just like you used to." Draco proceeded, his voice losing a little bit of the tightness while the blond lost himself in the explanation. "Most Vykélari choose to do that because focusing your magic otherwise into very specific effects outside of certain … let's say spatial boundaries is neigh to impossible for most, and even for those who are able to do it, it is very difficult and demanding. But the whole of your magic will protect you, even from yourself." He thought for a moment, pursing his lips. "Imagine it like the accidental magic of children, just more self-decided and sentient."

Harry frowned and nodded like someone who was in the process of accepting facts while discovering inconsistencies in every nook and corner. Had he always been like that, Blaise wondered, stumbling over concealed truths and lies quite accidentally while others like Draco kept over-analyzing and scrutinising some matters and accept others if only they came from the right lips. Like following a sadistic, bloodthirsty and power-hungry madman would be a good idea.

"But … I mean: when none of us can really use all this power that we have, why then can't …"

"Why can't we leave you alone?" Draco finished in a soft murmur when Harry had fallen silent, his eyes resting on his former nemesis with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah."

"Well, to be truthful it is because the mating bond stabilizes the magic of those involved, making it accessible." Blaise answered, keeping his voice neutral and clinical; it would be inappropriate to show compassion when he was one of those seeking the benefits of such a mating.

Still he refrained from voicing the obvious consequences of the effects of a bonding. There was after all something like too much and too blunt honesty and right now it would do none of them much good if they kept dwelling on concerns that might never come true the way they now thought they would.

So to stop the younger teen's mind from wandering further along those nebulous paths of ifs and buts, Blaise stepped closer to tenderly brush a thick, velvety black strand of hair away from Harry's brow. "Don't worry about it now. Remember that you are safe here, from us and from every other dominant. Now, Harry, on to more pleasant matters: do you still want to fly?"

Upon the guarded nod and a hesitantly murmured "Yes", Blaise smiled, hiding most of his excitement, before he turned to his fair skinned lover with an air of mischief surrounding him. "Your turn."

Immediately Draco froze and his cold grey eyes narrowed at him dangerously, telling him that his beloved fiancé was aware of what exactly he wished to do; which was not surprising, they had after all spoken about it not even an hour ago with Adler when they had recounted to him all that had happened between them and the delicious submissive from the moment they had entered that hospital room. Blaise had, with the smile and the quiet thrill of a hunting panther, mentioned how intimate an experience it had been to have Harry's magic rush through his body, how unsettling and in hindsight utterly addicting.

Adler had smiled at him understandingly and said that this was somewhat of a foretaste of the establishing process of a mating bond that would allow them to permanently share their magic and, if they so wished, their thoughts and feelings. And he had also explained how to deliberately install a temporary bond like that while keeping control of one's magic.

Of course Blaise had openly admitted how much he wanted to repeat the experience, even though he knew that Draco had found it more than a little bit disconcerting; which was understandable, too, since Harry and he had been enemies for far longer than the duration of their relational limbo after the war; or the few days as kidnapper/host/courter and victim/guest/courted. Unsurprisingly, Draco had refused, saying also that Harry would never want to do it at this time.

But Blaise wanted Draco to experience what he himself had during Harry's transformation. That uncomfortable feeling of nakedness in the face of pure power, almost like a violation of your magical core, so intimate. But heady and intoxicating in the sense of closeness to someone who was just as helpless to defy that connection; the knowledge that it could also go both ways. For the first time in his life there had neither been a need nor a possibility of hiding.

A truly dangerously thrilling experience. And intoxicating.

Yet more than this, Blaise believed that it was an experience that they needed to go through rather sooner than later because it was equally as important for Harry as it was for Draco: their sweet Gryffindor needed to accept and embrace his legacy to move on with his life and he needed to know what the future held for him, what they could give him. He wanted to show Harry together with Draco not only how to live with being a Vykélari, but also how to thrive on those changes. After that childhood, that war … with such a past, Harry deserved to live again, and not have his magical and personal strength go to waste. That was something they could do for him.

And Draco needed to understand not only what a bond between them would gain them, but also what it would cost them: privacy, appearances, masks; all of those were after all very important for the Ice Prince of Slytherin and Draco needed to be certain that he could lose those in front of Blaise and Harry.

It was a necessary lesson for all of them, another challenge that Blaise was now confident they could live up to; they could do it now, they should do it now: who knew how long Harry's cooperation would last, who knew if he would give them the chance for a taste of this bond ever again?

And yet as he stood there with his fiancé's angry eyes and Harry's confused ones firmly resting on him, Blaise couldn't help but think that maybe all of this was too early, that maybe he should have given Harry more time to become comfortable around them, and Draco to become used to the idea of sharing himself.

Mordred, it was not like him to rush a decision or to unthinkingly voice his thoughts like this, but he couldn't take it back now without losing face, or worse: without giving the appearance of trying to get a fearful lover an avenue of escape. Draco wouldn't appreciate it, not in front of Harry. And so, he waited.

Draco graced the Italian with a cold, ill-humoured glare for long, unending moments. He hated being pressed into a corner, having his choices taken away from him. Something inside of him snarled and raged against the very idea.

Showing Harry the transformation! What was he thinking? He knew that Blaise had wanted the relive the magical connection, and in a way he could understand that it was the most efficient, innocuous way of ridding the Gryffindor of his apprehension of his wings, but still…

Draco would have sighed or frowned or snapped at Blaise, if Harry hadn't stood there watching the two of them with that curious expression; how could Draco, when it was not him who had a valid reason to be anxious but the younger submissive who had lived through a hell of a traumatic transformation and had to face it yet again.

And how could he, if it was such a simple request from someone he loved so dearly and who had always stood at his side. Through everything and against everyone? If it was that important to his fiancé, important enough for him to voice it in this unsubtle way without giving him the possibility of a graceful refusal, he would indulge him of course, but well … he just hoped he would be able to not bare himself.

This had never been his intention when agreeing with Blaise on wooing the Gryffindor; he had thought that for once he was in a superior position in regard to his former enemy, for once the teacher, leading by example, for once the winner of their meaningless and yet so essential competitions. And why not? He was, after all, to be the dominant in their relationship. Or one of them in any case.

But Harry was magically stronger and he would never just submit and he would install a bond between the three of them that would leave them stripped bare in front of each other, in a way that Draco didn't know if he could learn to be comfortable with. He had not thought much about that little trivia before.

It was not a question of trust: He trusted Blaise, gods, he trusted him with his life, with the secrets of his family and himself, and deep down he knew that he could trust Harry. Even through all their hate and rivalry during Hogwarts, he knew he would be able to trust that teenager who simply was too noble, too principled and fair-minded for his own good. He just hadn't wanted to see it at that time.

Exposing his physical and emotional feelings and thoughts though, was quite another matter and it just went against every Slytherin instinct ingrained into his mind, and yet, it also aroused the morbid curiosity of a small, half-hidden part of him. A part that he usually labelled as insane and downright self-destructive and dangerous and tried to ignore to the best of his ability. Not always successfully, but mostly.

It was the part that had made him repeatedly challenge a young wizard he knew was more powerful than him, the part that had taken guilty pleasure in the challenge of repairing those vanishing cabinets - at least while he had still been naïve enough to not be overly afraid; the part that had made him stupidly join the Battle of Hogwarts. And what a wonderful idea that had been!

At least it had been the right side that time, the winning side. Still it had been dangerous and downright self-destructive and so not Slytherin.

Now it flared.

Jerkily, he pulled off the shirt he was wearing and held it out for Blaise to take while holding his eyes for a moment just to be sure that his fiancé knew what sacrifice exactly he demanded of him, before he turned to Harry, gentling his gaze somewhat upon encountering that apprehensive expression. At least the Saviour was not faring any better than he was, it seemed. Maybe he should just curse Blaise and be done with it, for Harry's and his peace of mind, Draco mused, throwing a quick glance at the handsome Italian, locking gazes with those dark eyes that were gleaming with a warmth and encouragement that he did not often encounter there. 'Well, then', he thought with a mental sigh 'maybe no cursing'. But he couldn't help wondering what Lucius Malfoy would say, should he learn about how his role model son caved under a single look of affection and support.

"Step behind me if you will." Draco instructed Harry and stepped past him, turning towards the mirror so that the black-haired teen only needed to close the small distance between him and neither one of them would have to face the other directly while they were connected thusly.

Because somehow through the mirror, it seemed less intimate, yet even so Draco didn't look at the two young men behind him while he steeled his expression.

He didn't flinch when hesitant fingers grazed the skin of his back, most likely guided by Blaise's hands, the touch of which he could have recognized anywhere. Then a moment later it shifted, the number of fingertips lying against his skin doubling as doubtlessly, his fiancé entwined his own hand with Harry's. Still facing away, Draco indulged himself by rolling his eyes and smiling faintly, almost fondly. Blaise was so predictable sometimes. Well, at least someone was.

"Vykélari can feel magical streams, Harry." The Italian explained. "We can in a way manipulate the very essence of magic, but - with exception of mated Vykélari - only when directly in touch. Because concentrating magic is a very difficult feat and the very reason why wizards are using wands. Wild, pure magic is chaotic, it dissipates and randomly condenses into streams and clouds again when uncontrolled. A wizard can seize the streams in their own body and wield them in certain ways through speech and wand-movements. Without these tools, a vast amount of power and concentration is necessary to enforce a specific effect.

Theoretically speaking, though, Vykélari can potentially direct streams that have left their body and use them as tools. So, with much practice you could for example change the effect of a hex you already casted and which has not yet hit its target - but don't do that unless inevitable: even a small mistake can have disastrous consequences! Quite similarly to the mispronunciation of spells."

Draco smiled as he remembered his father giving him that same lecture. Since then he had tried to do just that: he and Blaise had sent out stunner at everything around them in the two months since receiving their inheritance, mostly to take their minds off the upcoming trials, trying to change the spells into explosion charms; never with much success. Maybe now, together with Harry all three of them could explore and push those boundaries. Wasn't that worth the loss of security and privacy that the bond would cause? Wasn't this what dark - wild - magic was about? Accepting the dangers of the unknown just to reach for something greater? He was a Slytherin after all, he held the ambition and the intelligence to become an outstanding wizard. Blaise did so, too. And Harry? Harry. The Gryffindor role model… 'would he even want to walk that path with us?' Draco wondered, frowning and wishing that he knew more about him, while Blaise went on with his explanation.

"Now for our purposes you could also mould the streams and use them directly as tools. But as even Vykélari cannot keep them from disintegrating again - or at least that is very exhausting and difficult - you can use such tendrils only by touching the target."

"Is this a magic or a flying lesson?" Harry demanded behind him, his voice flat, and Draco pursed his lips in amusement. Trust the Golden Boy to lighten the mood.

"Don't be impatient, Harry. A little bit of magical theory never hurt anyone."

"Gryffindors…" Blaise sighed in fake exasperation; Harry just snorted.

"As I was about to summarize before you so rudely interrupted me: The closer the magic is to you, to your core, the easier it is to control. By touching, you and Draco are facilitating a temporary connection to each other's magic and body."

Immediately Draco felt Harry trying to pull his hand back with a sharp intake of breath that Draco more felt than heard. And within a moment he had wriggled his hand out of Blaise's loose grasp and taken a step back.

"Whoa!" he said, holding his hands up. "A magical connection between our bodies?"

"Yes." Draco said, tilting his head as he steadily gazed at the … well, he would almost say 'skittish creature.' A sweet, skittish creature, but skittish nonetheless.

With a nervous laugh Harry shook his head. "I don't know if that is a good idea. I mean … a bond?"

"Not such a bond, Harry!" Draco drawled with a lewd smirk.

"Actually the two of us already had something similar in the hospital." Blaise pointed out with an amused smile, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I allowed your magic into my own body so that it could explore the structure of a Vykélari's sensory system."

"Now if you want, I will allow your magic into my body to observe my complete transformation." Draco offered, carefully watching the dumbfounded expression of a clearly out-of-his-depth Harry.. "But this time you will stay in contact with your magic and try to feel what it encounters."

"Sounds complicated."

Laughing, Draco leisurely waved the brunet closer. "It sounds worse than it is, like most magical theory. Don't worry, you have a talent with magic, I know you do." He gave him a wink, delighting in his newfound hobby of embarrassing his former enemy that proved to be such a good distraction to his own trepidation. Merlin, but he could blush so sweetly.

"Besides," Blaise murmured reassuringly with a small smile, "both Draco and I will assist you in directing your magic."

With a resigned sigh, Harry stepped closer even while Draco once again turned away from him with an elegant twirl that would have put a certain potions professor to shame.

"Step behind me and lay your hand on my back, like before. This way you will also be able to see the transformation. If at any point you become too uncomfortable, just break the bodily contact between us and the magical connection should collapse."

Once more the trio resumed their respective positions and Draco felt himself tense a bit as the joint hands of his lover and someone who might have been a friend or more in a different reality pressed gently down on his muscles. It didn't take him long to feel out his own magic and push it outwards into the fingertips as a silent invitation.

A ripple of excitement and apprehension went through him and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the other senses that mattered the most to him: his hearing and the ineffable intuition for magic that he usually liked to compare to a migratory bird's sense for magnetic fields. If he concentrated enough, he thought he could almost see Blaise and Harry, even though he was turned away from them, even though his eyes were closed. But they were so bright and the magic that filled every cell in their bodies made his skin tingle oh so pleasantly. It was a deep feeling of awareness, of consciousness on a level that he felt unable to explain - quite unusual for him, since words would not normally evade him. But right then and there he only knew that this effect was enabled by the three of them reaching out for each other and Harry, sweet Harry linking them, grasping their magic and forwarding it, keeping it energized and focused without changing the intent. Blaise and he could not maintain their magic like this once it was more than a few inches away from their body and even then they could not maintain the structure of a connection for longer than mere seconds.

The awareness deepened then as Draco felt a torrent of magic flood his being and a sharp spike of panic rose within him as he fought the foreign feeling of being invaded so brutally. The air that he drew in a deep gasp felt cool in his lungs. Something was there immediately, soothing him with warmth, ponderousness, sluggishness; as if he was falling into a pool of a clear, viscous, gooey substance that clouded his mind, and cradled him in weightlessness. And Draco found he didn't care anymore: he existed purely of sensation.

He thought his heartbeat was slowing … or speeding? There were too many beats in any case but he didn't think that all of them belonged to him. He might have been a birdlike creature, but this fast rate would have killed even him… and there were breaths, too many breaths of air, too irregular: in-in, out in and out and out-in again. He feared he might hyperventilate even though this was not *his* breath, he realised; though it could have been since his ribcage seemed to raise and lower with each of his own intake and the echoes of Blaise's and Harry's breaths. And it was paralyzing and intimate and chaotic, too close for his comfort and he realised that they could also feel his body, maybe even more so than he did theirs, since he was the one to draw in their magic.

The confusion that was his own was soon joined by wonderment and excitement and apprehension, feelings that bubbled up inside of him and were so intense that they burst from his lips in a gasp and a choked chuckle or a sob that was more a result of Harry's and Blaise's overpowering feelings than his own.

And then in the natural aspiration of sameness that animals and humans often show in their behavioural patterns, Draco felt the overwhelming shock from the differences in their breathing and heartbeat recede as Blaise and Harry and he assimilated, became one and just like that everything became easier to bear.

It was a treacherous illusion though, because once their bodies seemed in tune, Draco became aware of all the small, unexpected trifles that in their entirety were oh so oppressive: his own fingertips were tingling from where Blaise and Harry were touching his skin, and his eyes, his closed eyes saw his own back, heaving with almost desperately drawn breaths and those intertwined fingers that were contrasting beautifully with his whitish skin. He could feel breath on his own shoulder and the echo of that sensation in his lover's and their submissive's being; not in their minds, in their very beings.

And Harry's indignation at the unintentional possessiveness he projected in his direction.

That ultimately allowed both him and Blaise to somehow draw back and reign in their emotions. It had come unexpected - all that chaos of each other's sensation - but after a few moments of being exposed to it, they were able to bethink themselves of all those lessons in concentration when performing difficult magic. First Blaise calmed, letting a deep silence permeate into the other two participants of their temporal bond, then Draco followed suit, emptying his thoughts like he had learned under Severus' tutelage in Occlumency. They still shared the awareness of their bodies, of all the strictly physical side of their selves but not their emotions.

Harry, though, seemed still too befuddled, too amazed with it all to give it up just yet. Or he was simply still crap at Occlumency. Hadn't Severus told them that the Gryffindor had never mastered the art?

Which was quite alright in Draco's books: he couldn't wait witnessing so closely how Harry would experience his first conscious transformation.

"Look!" he breathed, the heady backlash of the words, the movement of his Adam's apple as he spoke, whipping through all of them.

Very, very slowly, Draco summoned his wings, witnessing everything through Harry's wide open eyes - Blaise had followed his lead and closed his own so that the confusion between them was minimized. All three of them were looking now through those endlessly green pools.

It was an interesting perspective that Draco had never seen himself out of and he shared in the perturbed fascination of the young submissive, as the muscles and bone structure beneath his skin shifted, creating a new joint for the powerful wings and the muscles that would carry him through the summer air.

"See? It doesn't hurt." Blaise murmured behind him, with him, in him; then the dark Italian clasped Harry's hand, shifting it to Draco's spine without losing contact and it felt good, as if his lover was holding Draco's own hand.

Almost leisurely Draco let the skeleton of his wings press against the skin of his back, denting it outwards, expanding it with the lengthening bones.

"This is so gross." Harry said as slowly a featherless wing burst from Draco's back, causing the two Slytherins to laugh and their laughter to rumble through Harry's torso also, taking the edge off his disgust.

"Be careful to not transform too fast, Harry, or the growing wing bones might pierce the skin." Draco said softly, remembering the blood that had clung to those emerald wings in the hospital "Your magic will of course heal it immediately, but it smarts quite a bit. It often happens during the first transformation and whenever you are too distracted or impatient. But normally taking one or two seconds for the change will suffice to evade a rupture of the skin."

He barely felt Harry nod, the brunet was too taken with the changes in front of him as downy, white-gold and silver and white feathers erupted from the smooth skin, lengthening and firming even while the wings themselves were growing further until finally, they spread almost over the whole length of the mirror still in front of them.

An echo of movement and a sense of nagging curiosity and then Harry touched the feathers, their softness and velvety texture tingling over sensitive fingertips of three hands, barely felt at all; a touch of nothingness. Draco smiled, felt Blaise smile with him and Harry's not really annoyed huff and at that very moment of content, delight and warmth it dawned on Draco how very comfortable he was despite or maybe because of the closeness and intimacy of the bond.

He opened his eyes, narrow and thoughtful as he sobered and awoke from the rapture of the moment and immediately he had to battle down the vertigo that his body experienced from seeing two overlying images. It only lasted some moments before he managed to block out Harry's sight but still it added to his sudden discomfort.

Had he really allowed his guard to drop that much just from the simple relief that the connection had not proven to be unbearable and from whatever elusive dreams of security and warmth were to be had in that pretence of a bond? For it hadn't even been a real bond.

It was this sudden realization that had Draco step forward hurriedly, breaking off the bond effectively. For a moment he feared that Adler had been wrong, that they had somehow made the connection permanent but then the lingering touch of the other two young men's sensations gradually vanished as if they had left a pressure sore on his being that needed time to fade away.

Nothing was left now, Draco noted as he stared at his reflection, nothing but his too fast breathing.

"Are you alright?" Harry. Not Blaise; a Slytherin would not draw attention to the weaknesses of someone he loved - not in front of others at the very least.

Draco didn't know what to answer. This had not been expected, not planned. He had been afraid that the intimacy would be too much to bear and that he might break the connection because of that, or that Harry would break it because he found himself unable to accept the sensations of the transformation. He had not expected to lose himself in it. And that was what had happened: they had breathed as one, their very heartbeat had synchronized. They had manipulated each other's feelings: the excitement and exhilaration that had not been his own, but Harry's! The wonder and fear. The soothing touches from both Blaise and Harry at the beginning before the Slytherins had partly erected Occlumency shields.

Draco didn't want to be influenced that way.

Couldn't.

"He is fine." Blaise answered for him, but his piercing gaze hovered over Draco, the dark eyes so void of the emotions Draco knew to be there: the concern, the unasked questions, the promise of a discussion yet to come…

And wasn't that a conversation to look forward to? 'I know you quickly become addicted to that bond, but you know what? I can't stand how exhilarating and intoxicating it is so let's just get it over with and push the boy out of bed.' Yesss, that would surely go down well.

Never mind that Harry was sweet and considerate and fair and that it felt good to be in contact with someone who didn't play mind games all the time - well, never, to be exact. Never mind that he had found enjoyable now what he had despised in Hogwarts from a distance: oh, Draco had loathed it when that willingness to help, all that zeal and intense attention was focused on all those dumb trolls that were so much like black holes: ever sucking everything up without it having any effect at all aside from bereaving other, more deserving people of what they took so carelessly. But Merlin, it felt good when that very intensity was directed at him and Blaise.

God, he wanted that bond to work; just not like this… not if the cost was his or their integrity of mind.

He really needed to talk to Adler. Perhaps there was a way of avoiding such a blend of selves between the three of them without having to give up the entire bond. For now, though, there was a submissive to entertain. A too perceptive submissive, who, Draco feared, might balk if he thought them to be indecisive or insincere.

"Nothing wrong, Harry, sweet." Draco said with a masterfully faked smile - one wasn't crowned the Ice Prince of Slytherin without a powerful family and a good portion of charisma and acting skills. Then, as if to prove his words he reached out to the smaller teen and gently manoeuvred him to stand in front of him, facing the mirror. "Why don't you try to transform now?"

But despite his considerable talent as an actor, Draco could see Harry hesitating and he prayed the Gryffindor would be sensible enough to not press him now, even if he noticed anything wrong. For some gruellingly long moments, the brunet watched Draco's reflection in the mirror before he seemed to come to some conclusion, fortunately one in Draco's favour: with an almost imperceptible shrug and a curt nod, he said "Yeah, lets."

Inwardly Blaise cursed. Draco had been right: they should have waited.

He had not known that the connection would be so intense. It had certainly not been like this in the hospital when it had only been him and the submissive and he could only speculate as to why that was. Maybe it was the fact that Harry's subconsciously steered magic had been much more controlled than the chaos the three of them had fabricated; maybe it was for the simple reason that there were three of them now where there had only been two, or it was because they had consciously witnessed the sensations and emotions of each other when before that, Harry's magic had surveyed Blaise's body without reporting anything back to its owner.

Whatever the reason, the connection had been too intense for comfort even though the Occlumency shield had helped some; and now they had to deal with the implications. Whatever they were.

Though it seemed that it had affected him and Draco more than Harry, probably because the submissive had been the aggressor during this connection. Or the Gryffindor was simply better equipped to deal with a situation like this.

On another thought, perhaps Severus' instructions in Occlumency had gotten the poor Gryffindor used to getting his mind violated.

A rather harrowing thought. One that inspired him to teach the potions master a lesson of his own in due time. Perhaps he would.

Still, that this had happened was Blaise's fault for pressing so resolutely towards this little experiment and he certainly would apologize to Draco once they were alone. For now, he was unsure how composed his fiancé really was after this unexpected experience and how much was acted and so Blaise was infinitely grateful that Harry seemed to be empathetic enough to know when to keep his silence.

Sure enough the smaller brunet quite readily followed their instructions and not even an hour later the youngest seeker in over a century proved that his talent for flying was not restricted to a broom. Well, at least someone seemed to have benefitted from Blaise's lapse in judgment.

CHAPTER END NOTES:

Thanks for reading! This was such a long chapter… I hope you liked it!

And soon the story is starting to get a little bit darker again, so I hope I managed to appease you somewhat in advance with the last chapters.

Now a piece of bad news: I'm about to start the last real terms of my studies (I'll still have to do my master thesis, but there won't be any courses). I will be very, very busy for the next 5 months so please forgive me when I don't manage to update for some time.

I really like writing on this story and I won't give it up. But the grades I get will define my life, so they have priority.
- 13
- 14
- 15
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Night Flight