Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Intangible	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-CH8
- 9-CH9
- 10-CH10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-CH19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-CH22
- 23-CH23
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- 25-Ch25
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Author's Notes: Goodness, what an exhausting week. Hope you're all fairing better than me. Two chapters for you, the pace picking back up, and with much more fun to come. <3
Anon: I hear you, but I had to slow it down to justify Draco's change of perspective. The boys were never staying in the castle, and I hated the idea of them being like the Malfoy ancestors and just disappearing into the forest. As for the multi element, it's really just a component of their beast nature, and hardly defining of the relationship. This is a Harry/Draco relationship all the way, with just sex on the side... Although, I should probably put an appropriate warning up. I don't really think about these things, but I suppose some people might have issue with it...
Tommy-Lane: I know, I really wanted Draco to grow stronger in this. He was such a mess in the beginning, not willing to take ahold of his life or dreams, just sitting back and letting his parents push him around. Harry was such a dominating personality in some ways, Draco really needed to get away and expand on his own a bit and figure his shit out. By the time this story is done, Draco is going to be about as fierce as you can get! Which, once you see Harry, will be quite a challenge.
BAFan: La, definitely!

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fawkes was cooing softly to the rising dawn when Harry finally awoke again. Harry's awareness was drawn to the phoenix, a warm shining flame glowing in his mind's eye. He could feel Fawkes, a presence now within him, sharing everything without fear or hesitation. Harry was extended, a piece of his soul now contained within the magical bird. It was intense. It was bizarre.
Harry wondered where Draco was. Fawkes didn't know. There was no longer pain, not for Fawkes or him. Harry remained still, feeling his awareness of his body as he closed his eyes. He was strong. He was very strong. What he had thought were heavy, weighted wings, were truly light and easily controlled with the right muscles. Harry began to flex them, Fawkes offering intelligence on how wings worked along with something inside him that innately knew.
Harry was whole. He could feel all of his body, from the tips of every ruffling feather, to his tail, to the antlers that he now had no fear of ever tangling on anything. He could feel, the air as it brushed, the slightest shift of scales as he flexed his hands and talons. He was hyper sensitive, no longer in pain but not quite right just yet. How he would be right, he wasn't sure... Just, something was off.
Dumbledore was nowhere to be found but Harry did not doubt he would return. He carefully stretched, feeling the weight of his body, the grace of his muscles as he unfurled and rose and sat with ease. The bed was clean and lacked any slashes, his clothes replaced with thin pajama bottoms, his wings preventing him from wearing a shirt. Harry pressed his fingers to the bed, amazed with the feeling of it. He could feel again. He could smell, and things were solid. When his ears heard sound, it was not far away in an echo. The world was crisp, overly sharp to his new senses. It was like looking through the world with new glasses, but for all his senses.
Harry was also golden skinned. The black had faded away from his flesh, including his feathers, which were now more golden colored than the rest of him. He looked around the room, spotting a mirror by Madame Pomfrey's office door. He would wait for Dumbledore. He had a feeling walking around near exits would be an issue still.
Fawkes burred in his head, fluttery and calling. Harry turned, seeing the bird how he used to, divided on different planes. He focused, the fire fading, feathers and details coming into view. Yes, Harry had changed. He was back, very different, and was hoping Draco would be allowed to visit soon.
“Awake, I see,” Dumbledore's voice rang out. Harry turned, Madame Pomfrey's office door open, the headmaster standing just in the doorway. Harry tilted his head, his vision swimming for a moment as different versions of Dumbledore could be seen. Colorful magic suddenly swirled around him, the fifth plane so strong Harry had to blink and stare blankly at his bed for a while.
“How do you feel?” Dumbledore asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
“Fine... Disoriented a bit,” Harry said, his voice sounding lower than normal, teeth sharp against his lips. He ran his tongue between his teeth and lips, frowning from the odd sensation. Then smiled, because he had a sensation. He had not realized how dull touch had been before.
“Do you think I could have visitors soon?” Harry asked around his new teeth, wondering if he could see Draco. Touching would be different now. Better, somehow.
“Not yet, Harry. I want to see how you are feeling first,” Dumbledore said, spelling up a chair and sitting across from Harry.
“I feel fine,” Harry repeated, now touching his lips. Would kissing Draco feel the same? Harry thought that would be better, because just touching his lips with his fingertips felt damn fine. Actually, everything felt damn fine. Harry's skin felt like it was tingling, fuzzy and warm.
“Would you like something to eat?” Dumbledore asked, not about to argue with Harry on how he felt just yet. “It's been, well, months since you've had an actual meal.
Head cocked as his ears picked up the sounds of students very far in the distance, Harry waited a moment to answer. “Sure, I guess. Whatever.” He blinked as magic fizzled in the air to the right of him, a visual burst of small fireworks before a house elf abruptly popped in with a plate of food. Harry stared long moments at where the creature popped away, feeling the trail of magic leading down to the kitchens. This was going to take some getting used to.
Harry poked at a chunk of chicken with his fork, even the metal feeling strange in his hands. Metal felt almost alive, an energy vibrating inside its hard form. He could feel Dumbledore staring at him so he lifted his head, hoping to look as normal as possible so the man would let him go soon. “Smells intense,” he said, indicating the food. “Like, the most food smelling food I have ever smelled. If a scent could glow, that is how food smells.”
“Perhaps it's a sign of hunger,” Dumbledore said, waving his hand to encourage Harry to eat.
Harry nodded absentmindedly, bringing the fork full of chicken closer and sniffing. He licked his tongue out, pausing as his taste buds flared to life and he was immediately salivating. “Hell...” He bit down quickly, flinching as he managed to bite the fork and his bottom lip at the same time, his fangs foreign in his mouth. Harry kept his head ducked, not needing Dumbledore to see this either, carefully removing the fork from his mouth and chewing slowly.
“Can you tell me what you remember?”
Staring at his plate while chewing, Harry nodded. He tried the mashed potatoes next, just sniffing them, picking up the scents of butter and salt, with not enough pepper. “Pain. Voldemort tearing me to pieces,” he muttered, his body flaring as he said it, wings, antlers and tail, arms and legs all twinging in terrible memory. “Power... awful power...” He bit down cautiously around the fork, letting the potatoes melt on his tongue while he extracted the instrument from between his teeth.
“You remember his power?” Dumbledore asked, brows furrowed.
Swallowing and managing not to choke, something Harry had not thought would actually be an issue, he shook his head. “Not his.”
“The Vesper?” Dumbledore pressed. “When they interrupted the spell?”
Harry looked up at him, teeth again clinking on the fork. Vesper. There had been Vesper in the castle. “How's Jaz?” Harry asked, his mind straying back to a faded memory of the specialist, falling to the ground when he had finished his spell. He had been bleeding.
“He's perfectly well,” Dumbledore assured. “You remember them, then? How about before?”
Eyes flickering over the man, and then the wall and door behind Dumbledore's sitting form, Harry nodded again. “I remember before.”
Dumbledore looked like he wanted to sigh. Harry was not making things easy. “Tell me a story, Harry. Start the day you left here, ready to go back to your relatives for the summer.”
Harry reached for his juice, lapping from the cup when he realized his teeth were only going to continue to clink against the glass. “I had finished sixth year. McGonagall was very upset with my grades. Said I was distracted and disruptive,” Harry said without any heat. There was a bird... a bird outside the infirmary window. Except it wasn't right outside, it was a mile outside, in a tree, pecking on the bark in search of insects.
“You returned to your relatives. By train,” Dumbledore prodded when Harry became silent and distracted again.
“Yes. I didn't want to go. I was worried about... Malfoy...” Harry put his glass down, turning to the older man that continued to stare at him. “Where is Malfoy?”
Sitting back slightly, Dumbledore folded his hands, his body language creating a wall between them that Harry couldn't help but discern with his new senses. “Would you like to see Mr. Malfoy?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” Harry smiled, flinching again when he managed to bite his lower lip on his sharp teeth.
“And you think Mr. Malfoy would like to see you?” Dumbledore asked, his gaze very stern. Harry blinked at the odd question, rubbing his bleeding lip.
“Er, of course he would...” Tilting his head, Harry tried to think back to any reason why Draco wouldn't want to see him. “Did... someone tell him about the will? Is he being pissy?” Harry licked his tongue out, blood filling his senses in a cacophony of tangy sweet metal. He gasped, staring at the tips of his fingers where he had touched his lip. He tentatively licked the most red streaked one, trying to suppress a moan from the overwhelming flavor.
“Harry, can you hear me?”
Harry snapped his gaze up, still licking his fingers. Everything was sort of thrumming around him, the air, the magic in the castle, Dumbledore across the room. Harry was feeling hot... hazy... “Where is he?” He asked, his voice hoarse in his ears.
Blue eyes meeting his, Dumbledore shimmered for a moment in Harry's view. Fortifying. Defending. “Who, Harry?”
The man was hiding something.
Turning from Dumbledore, Harry switched his vision until the room was dark, magic swirling around him. He kept turning, sweeping his eyes deep into the castle, down towards the dungeons, then up to the towers, then out to the grounds. Nothing. No glow. No white. No Draco.
Harry took a steadying breath, staring at his hands. They were fluctuating too, his oddly gold skin charring at the edges around his fingertips, long black nails sprouting forward. “Where's Draco?”
“Do you think he wishes to see you?” Dumbledore asked again, the words feeling like prickling wounds to Harry's skin.
“I don't fucking care if he wants to see me. Where the hell is he?” Harry growled, watching his fingers burn, char rising up, splotching over his hands.
“Shouldn't you care?” If Dumbledore noticed that his line of questioning was enraging Harry, he showed no sign beyond more shimmering magical fortification. “Mr. Malfoy is an intelligent, willful human being. I believe he enjoys say in who he spends his time with. Now that he can see you, he may not be so accessible to you. And isn't that his right, Harry? Don't we all, as individuals, have a right to decide who we wish to spend our time with?”
Harry stood abruptly, the tray clattering to the floor, glass shattering, plate cracking dully. He glared at Dumbledore briefly, then strode to the mirror on the opposite wall. “Aw crap...” He hissed on catching sight of his reflection. He was broad shouldered, neck thicker, face fierce with wild green eyes beneath heavy brows. His lip was bleeding, not helping things much, nor the massive antlers that thankfully went more up than wide, or Harry would be taking out people left and right just walking. Had Draco seen him? Visited while he had been sleeping and seen how fierce he now looked? Was he repulsed? Afraid? Had the boy fucking hidden himself away like some frightened mouse?
Harry snorted, rolling his eyes at his unfamiliar reflection. Not bloody likely.
So then... what the hell was Dumbledore on about? Harry turned, finding the man had stood as well, wand discreetly in his hand. “Sir, is there something you want to say to me?” Harry asked, his patience worn thin by this very confusing and annoying conversation.
“You seem upset,” Dumbledore remarked carefully.
Harry narrowed his eyes, feeling his power licking ever so subtly in the pit of his stomach. If he didn't get a straight answer soon, he was going to demand one.
“Tell me about your mate, Harry,” Dumbledore continued, eyes tight on Harry's twitching, black charred fingers.
Harry started at the question, something inside him twisting, calling. He looked around the castle again, looking for Draco's glowing form. “He's missing.”
“No,” Dumbledore said swiftly, hands moving wide and drawing Harry's attention. “No, he is fine. Tell me about him. Tell me a story about your mate.”
Eyes caught on Dumbledore's strange motions, Harry nodded, tongue flicking over his bleeding lip. “Um... he's my mate. I take care of him... protect him... I really want to find him so I can protect him, Sir.”
Dumbledore nodded understandingly. “How do you protect him?”
Harry shrugged, eyes again drifting down to the right of Dumbledore to where Draco's room was. “Kill things, I suppose.” He smirked, fangs touching but not biting this time. “Voldemort...”
“It was good you killed Voldemort. But there is no one else like him, Harry. No one you need to kill.”
Harry glanced up again, noticing how stiff Dumbledore was all of a sudden. “Sure... Killing people is just a bit mad. I don't have to kill people to protect Draco.” But Harry was pretty sure he would anyways. Lots of people. Especially if someone didn't fucking tell him where the boy was already.
Dumbledore edged slightly towards the door. “Maybe you should sit back down?” He suggested, waving his hand, drawing Harry's eye again.
“I'm good.” Harry eyed the windows next. There was no way his new horns were going to fit out those little slitted windows, never mind his wings. He walked towards them anyways, wanting to see what Dumbledore would do. Nothing, at the moment. But Harry had the man retreating, that one little step towards the door. Once that door was open...
“Harry, I can't help but notice your skin is changing color,” Dumbledore said tersely. “Has anyone told you why that might be?”
“I'm upset,” Harry snapped, glaring out the window. “I woke up locked in a fucking room, and I can't find Malfoy. And you—You keep asking inane questions!” He whirled, wings unfurling wide, filling the space around him with quickly charring feathers. “Why are you turning black, Harry? Will Malfoy want to see you, Harry? Here's a fucking question for you, Sir. What the hell am I going to do to you if you don't let me out of here!”
Chin tilting up, eyes blazing in challenge, Dumbledore stared Harry down. “That does seem to be the question we both want to know the answer to.”
Harry glared long minutes at the infuriating man, watching every shimmer, every sweat drop. He scowled, folding his wings tight against his bare back. “I'm not going to—”
The door leading to the hall suddenly slammed open, Dumbledore and Harry jumping at the sound. Harry gaped, Narcissa Malfoy in all her petite, pristine fury pointing her wand straight at his chest, two guards slumped on the ground at her feet. “Potter, what have you done with my son!”

Dawn streaking red across the sky, Draco blinked up, lips parting in a long yawn. He carefully extracted his arm from the shifter's next to him, stretching it over his head instead, leaning back against the soft pelts under him on the ground. The early spring air was chill but the bodies surrounding him kept him toasty, much more than sleeping in the bed inside.
Tomorrow he was expected to go back. To Hogwarts, to class, to numbness. To loneliness. How could he explain to Harry that he was lonely there? The boy would come back with him, right? Or would Harry rather live with all his friends? Harry had a family in ways Draco never had. Harry never had parents, but Sirius and Remus were definitely Harry's family. Draco's parents had never been family but these Vesper... This was home. Gloriously dysfunctional, hardly traditional, and innately right.
Draco wondered how his ancestors had dealt with it, realizing they had fought so hard to remain human, fighting the other half of them that was yearning for more. Only to give in to their nightmare and end up coming home. Usually after having a family and children of their own. Of course, they had to give up their old life. They had to give the ring to the next generation of halfling. Once awakened, there was no going back. Draco still had a choice.
He glanced up, Hermione, notebook in hand blinking down at him from the doorway. Was she just getting back from the tomb?
“They finally got you in the pile, I see,” Hermione said lightly, tiptoeing over limbs and slippery hair to sit down next to Draco. He rolled his eyes and wrapped himself around a pillow for some protection from her amused gaze. “Not too surprised. I had to stop wearing the glasses days ago, you were glowing like the sun.”
“Yes... well... I like sex...” Draco grumbled, peering through one eye at her while he tried not to blush. He didn't want to blush. He didn't want to be embarrassed even if a small part of him still was. He liked strong men, enjoyed anal sex, and apparently from more than one man at a time. He was a halfling, and that was who he was. Now if he could just get some very demanding green eyes into the mix, everything would be perfect.
“I imagine you have to, considering how much these guys do. They talk about you like you're their queen bee...er, king bee, in this case,” Hermione corrected with a smirk. “You have the most colorful plumage and glow the brightest. And have a mating call that can reach across miles. It would be very confusing if you didn't enjoy sex. Definitely awkward.”
Draco nodded, eyes frosting. “I think I... fucked something up last night... With the call. I need to figure out how to control it.” It was still just this detached part of him, his beast form locked away in the other dimension. Even though that form kept demanding things and pulling with its call, Draco just couldn't fully reach it to gain power over it. Hell, sometimes the beast form was pulling him, and he hardly noticed it enough to fight. He could have hurt people last night, and the thought was alarming.
Hermione hummed thoughtfully, flipping through her notebook while sitting back to catch the morning light on the pages. “Think you'll be coming back to Hogwarts tomorrow?” She asked nonchalantly. “Because if you don't, I'd like you to do some more research on that Kalistar for me.”
Pulled from his worried thoughts, Draco raised a brow at the girl. “Will you be visiting much?”
“Oh god, yes. And not just because of the view I get at night out the window either,” Hermione said with a beaming smile. “The way the Vesper control magic through the dimensions is fascinating. I never even thought of dimensional studies as a calling, but the more I see it in play, the more fascinated I am by it. Plus the anthropological level to the whole place—It's a nearly undiscovered species. Three, really. I'm an academic at heart, and there is a treasure trove of information and power in this one village. And, like I said, the view is fantastic,” she added, glancing over at the silvery pale men sleeping around Draco.
Staring at Hermione in surprise, Draco wondered if his friends would ever want to visit him. Blaise was totally terrified of the dragons... but then again, Draco had been too, starting out. Pansy would definitely love the pretty men, especially if they were beat up a bit. Draco scrunched his nose, trying not to think of any one of them looking out the window at him with the Vesper at night. Maybe just a day thing for visitors.
“If I go back, it's just going to be to check up on Potter,” Draco said after a long moment. “I don't... I just don't think I fit anymore.”
Hermione snorted while underlining something in her book. “Who the hell does? We're all so different—It's really the only thing that's alike. We have the ability to do magic. At least here you're definitely among those who understand you.”
Draco didn't completely disagree, but still didn't want to go back. “Do you think Harry will like it here?” He was almost afraid to ask, afraid the answer would be the wrong one.
Sighing, Hermione closed her notebook, giving Draco her full attention. “You really want my opinion? I clearly remember you telling me I don't understand people.”
Draco huffed, his stomach clenching nervously. “You've been his friend for six years. You have to have some sort of clue...” Draco snapped his mouth shut. Hermione still couldn't figure out Weasley liked her.
“I think... Harry will like to be where you are,” she said after a moment, gnawing on her lip. “I'm not so sure how he's going to feel about you being around a bunch of very attractive men that want to have sex with you all the time. Actually, I'm pretty certain that's going to piss him off.”
Draco's stomach twisted a little more and he groaned, stretching out and burying his face into a pillow. “Jealous... Jaz said his type were jealous.”
“Yup.”
“But I'm a Vesper. We're all like this,” Draco growled. “You said it yourself, with my glowing plumage crap. He's not allowed to get angry over my basic nature.”
Hermione tilted her head, observing Draco outright. “You're as calm and happy as I have ever seen you, Malfoy. It's like someone finally turned the lights on. You were such a terrible mess this last year... I really didn't know if you were going to make it. Whatever Harry feels about you being here, that's his issue, not yours. I might lose my library to say this, but you shouldn't come back. Why sacrifice a paradise with your own kind just to be... Well, whatever it was you were pretending to be.”
“Straight,” Draco said bitterly. “It's exhausting pretending to be something I'm not. Fooling myself. Trying to be what my parents want...”
“Well, that is at least one thing you're never going to have to worry about,” Hermione said brightly while returning to her notebook. “Your parents coming here.”
Remembering how terrified his mother had been of the Vesper, Draco was relieved. No, he never had to worry about that. Harry leaving him for sleeping with a pack full of Vesper, maybe. His mother showing up? Never.
Thoughts drifting, Draco turned and stared up at the colorful canopy above, loving its uniqueness. He felt so safe. But he missed Harry. He didn't even fully know if the boy was alive... He just had his instinct that told him Harry was okay. Harry had extensive damage from Voldemort's attack. How long would that take to heal? If Draco returned to Hogwarts tomorrow, would Harry be able to walk yet? Maybe come back with him and meet the Vesper properly?
Draco really wanted Harry to like the Vesper. He really wanted the pack to like Harry. These were good people living here. They had gotten themselves in a mess with the humans, especially with the kidnapping Draco thing. But Draco would go back and settle that quick enough. He would find a way for the tribe to live peacefully with the humans, even if the two groups might have to be completely separated and oblivious of each other.
Eyes sliding over Haille's smooth shoulder, Draco wondered how he would feel if Harry wanted to be with the shifters the way he had last night. Harry had to be as tall as the majority of them. Oh, but with a much rougher grip at times. Harry was definitely not afraid to have a wild, hard touch. Draco smiled, tongue lighting over his teeth as he fought back a hysterical laugh. Aaah... He would manage. Extremely well.
Draco rolled to his knees, standing up and ignoring Hermione's curious stare. He padded nude around his pack of very pretty men, ready to shower and dress inside his new house. He would see Harry tomorrow, and hopefully the boy would be awake. Draco smiled again, another laugh bubbling up inside him that he barely squashed down. God, it would be good. Seeing Harry like this—whole, alive, with a home to return to—was going to be so fucking good.
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Intangible

Chapter Twenty-Three