Chapter 12 Secrets

Chapter Text

They found themselves in the infirmary in rather short order.

Thankfully, it was empty of other occupants.

"Poppy!" Dumbledore called. The older wizard seemed the be one with the closest human sounding voice.

Snape immediately angled towards the closest empty bed, with a tense Terius trailing behind. The tall, dark figure attempted to gently ease Draco to the pristine white sheets. Almost at once, the blond became more vocal, with loud whimpers and whines, his eyes shut tight even as his body thrashed, protesting.

"Hold him!" Terius rasped, glowering at the black-haired man. His voice held more of a hiss and less of a human touch to it. "He'll tear open what little work I've been able to cast and-"

"Albus?" Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, wiping her hands on the front of her orderly apron. "Whatever is the—Mr. Potter? Already?" She sighed, with her hands on her plump waist. "It's barely been a month, though I suppose it was too good to ask for that much-"

"Not Potter, you daft woman!" Snape practically snarled as he jerked around to face her. "Here! Help him now!"

"Severus Snape, don't you dare take that tone with me-" The medi-witch began, her words trailed off and the matron gasped as her mind caught up to the sight before her. She swallowed hard. "Is that Malfoy?" There was horror in her voice as she bustled forward. "Set him down." She drew her wand from the smock-front pocket and began to wave it in the usual movements for her diagnosis. "I can't tell you what's really wrong or help unless you set him down, your magical signature always interferes whenever you're within the slightest-" She reached for Draco only to hear two simultaneous hisses and the audible click of Draco's teeth before Snape stumbled backwards, aided by a timely tug from a glowering Terius.

The two men glared at each other for a moment. Then Terius released the arm after a pointed look from the man it belonged to.

Poppy stood a few scant feet away, a rather worrisome feeling beginning to make itself known. She'd just escaped certain death, or so it felt. There was definitely something off here, though having the Headmaster show up with such an unlikely bunch of company was certain to be the cause of any unusualness.

"Ah, Poppy." Dumbledore started forward. "This is not quite what I had in mind when I called you a moment ago. But it seems that young Mr. Malfoy has run into a bit of trouble."

"A bit of trouble?" Snape bit the words off one at a time in his usual fashion. "A bit, Albus? This was no accident!" He nearly trembled with rage. As it was, the angry energy surrounding him all but permeated the air. A few things rattled in the background.

Poppy looked as if she wanted to speak, but Harry hoped she wouldn't. He didn't think it was safe for anyone to speak right now—not with the darkened scowl on the Potion Master's face.

Instinctively, Harry found himself slipping behind the Headmaster, just in case. He should've just run when he had the chance. He should have. But he'd feel the connection between them. Even if his senses screamed danger at him for being so close to Snape, even if it meant nothing to anyone else in the hospital wing, he'd craved that feeling for however brief it had been. His Dragel self rejoiced in finding its fellow kind and urged him to continue to bask in their presence, at least until they told him otherwise. He wasn't about to complain when it made him feel so good.

The tiredness eased enough for him to recognize the faintest threads of warmth. They cared—even if they didn't know it themselves—he could tell that much and he was so tired of being alone and overlooked. No matter what he did, his life was a torrid, tangled mess and it would always stay that way. The chance to enjoy even a few stolen moments of hope was too great a temptation.

Harry was rudely jerked from his musings as a new flurry of snarls, growls and hisses came from the odd trio of Snape, Terius and Malfoy. His Dragel instinctively shrank back within him. Outwardly, he fought to remain at least as physically unaffected as possible—it'd be a dead giveaway now if he dared to let anything slip. At least, he knew the reasons why his reactions simmered so close to the surface. It didn't take a book to explain it. At least one or both of the professors were dominant to him in some way or another. He was unclaimed. Though they seemed to have formed their own circle, there was guarantee that they'd leave him be. That alone, naturally made him wish to be anywhere near them in their present state.

It didn't feel safe at all.

He really should have run.

"Fine!" Snape finally ground out. His voice was still angry and hard as he shifted the armful as gently as he could and lowered Draco to the bed amidst the boy's weak protests and heart-wrenching cries of distress.

The cries, Harry soon found were muffled. He didn't like it. While his instincts had told him to run from either professor, the rest of him was coaxed back with the thoughts that he couldn't leave Draco on his own.

Draco.

Harry blinked.

When had Malfoy suddenly become Draco?

He snuck an upwards glance at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore winked and twinkled down at him before he glided forward and gave a slight wave of his hand. The familiar tingle of magic that passed through him let him know that the elderly wizard had cast some privacy charms. About time. Harry thought, annoyed. He inched forward, still careful to keep a respectful distance between himself, Snape and Terius. He felt the faintest of tugs towards Draco again and he nibbled his lower lip as he watched the protesting boy and Madam Pomfrey's frantic attentions. The dear lady was trying, but true to her word, it seemed as if all her magic went haywire the moment it was even remotely directed towards Snape.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and Harry turned to stare at Terius in puzzlement. The younger professor had taken a stance slightly behind Snape and Draco, just apart from the rest of them, but close enough to be near. At this moment, the man literally quivered as if he were about to lose control of something very soon in the near future. The sea-blue-grey eyes glittered before the round orbs morphed into something decidedly more reptilian.

Dragel!

Harry's new senses screamed at him.

But he could only stare as the DADA professor clenched hands that morphed into claws, so tightly that he drew blood. The dark rivulets streamed down and dribbled on his trousers as his shoulders twitched.

Suddenly, Harry knew what was coming next. He backed away, feeling the suppressed aura fanning out through the infirmary. Professor Terius was far more powerful than he'd ever let on. The sheer flicker of that much raw magic literally screamed at him.

That was definitely a Dragel. He didn't need any more confirmation. In fact, he'd be happy if the confirmation went away. Harry scooted back the first few inches he'd taken forward. The fact that he was considering the Headmaster as a potential shield was lost to him. He was only aware of the powerful and upset Dragel just within his line of sight.

As if sensing the severity of the situation, Dumbledore shifted back as well. He nearly stumbled over Harry, but managed to keep his balance with his twinkling gaze flickering over Harry as if trying to read something that wasn't there.

Harry studiously avoided his gaze as the sound of tearing fabric and a feral roar literally shook the room. The wards trembled and Harry suppressed a shiver. He knew in his very fibers that a cry like that promised pain—death, certainly—pain, at the very least.

And he knew, this time, who had roared. It was Terius. The other time had to have been Snape. This roar was different.

Ripping fabric and a satisfied groan captured his attention once more. Harry stared.

Wings.

A pair of large, grey, red-scaled wings arching out from his back and curved upwards as Terius moved forward to the smaller figure on the hospital bed. The leathery texture was smooth and scaled in the way that belied the actual use and familiarity of the appendages. They fluttered, stirring a a powerful, magically charged wind. The sheer volume of energy seemed to crackle and snap around him and Harry was surprised to see Snape back down.

The Potions Master took one look at the furious, transformed man and grabbed Poppy's elbow, dragging her away from the bed and towards Dumbledore and Harry.

Draco keened pitifully, his twitching body trying vainly to convey his displeasure and panic. His cries were muffled and then immediately silenced when Terius reached him and those strong, broad wings curved around the bed, hiding all from sight in a winged cocoon. Tense silence filled the room for several, long minutes.

Snape shifted restlessly, Madam Pomfrey alternated between wringing her hands and glowering at the Headmaster and the elderly wizard in question drew out a handful of lemon drops from the sleeves of his voluminous robes and offered one to Harry.

Emerald eyes stared at him incredulously.

Dumbledore smiled, sadly. "I do not mean to make light of it, Harry, my boy." He sighed. "But it would be extremely unwise to interfere at this time. We must let them do what they will." The words seemed meant more for Severus however, and the surly man merely gave a grunt in response, his dark eyes fixed on the winged cocoon that he could not yet approach.

The silence continued to hang thickly between them all. There was nothing else to be done.

Another wave of magic pulsed outward from the bed and there was the sound of a muffled curse as Terius' wings shifted and moved, before they shrank down and melted away into his figure. The claws and face scales began to disappear as the professor scowled at the boy on the bed. He cuffed him lightly on the head with one hand. "Language, Draco. That was uncalled for." He scolded, but there was no real emotion behind the word. The sea-grey eyes had yet to show any trace of feeling as they roamed over the now calm body.

Draco sat up and rubbed his head. His clothes hung off from him in bloody rags, but the skin beneath was smooth, unblemished and just the right shade of pale. He didn't look at all as if he'd been attacked—well, except for the detail of the bloody, shredded clothes. "It was my favorite shirt!" He pouted at the DADA professor. "My favorite! I don't have another one like that and it's not like I asked for them to attack me and-"

Snape growled and shot forward. He couldn't help himself anymore and was at Draco's side in an instant and almost at once, Draco reacted—but not in the way anyone else would have predicted.

His grey eyes grew wide and he scuttled to the opposite side of the bed, reaching backwards, blindly with one hand to grab hold of Terius, who was in the middle of charming his clothes to repair themselves.

Wandlessly, Harry noted. He wondered what exactly had Draco so terrified of his Godfather and what exactly said Godfather was going to do to his Godson, as it seemed that the dark glower on Snape's face spelled certain doom.

"S-severus." Draco licked his lips, nervously. "I-it was an accident, I swear. I would never dare to-"

"Do. Not. Lie. To me!" Severus hissed. His hands had wrapped around the bed rails on the sides of the hospital bed and now they creaked dangerously as the unnatural grip threatened to wrench them from where they'd been bolted. "I told you to never walk those halls alone, especially now that you are-!"

Draco squeaked and turned away from the angry Potions Master to literally leap into the arms of a resigned Terius. He clung to the older man with all the energy he could spare, it seemed. The younger professor merely sighed and tucked the blond head in the crook of his neck, beneath his chin. Terius hummed softly for a moment, the sound sending a pleasing vibration through the entire room.

An answering purr came from the blond and the tense figure seemed to melt into the arms cradling him close.

Terius gave a faint nod to a furious Snape who seemed to be struggling to keep his temper in check. A battle, thankfully, that the Potions Master seemed to be winning. Sort of. The glaring match resumed for a moment, but Terius merely waited for a moment, and then tipped his head to the side. Snape didn't need any further invitation. He was soon hugging both men and sniffing carefully along every inch of Draco that he could reach in Terius' arms, his shoulders giving the occasional twitch as if his own pair of wings would have liked to make an appearance.

The two older men held a wordless conversation over Draco's head and Snape broke eye contact first, with a deep frown of concern marring his unique features as he looked from the perfectly defenseless Draco to the headmaster and company. He stepped in front of Terius as they turned to face the other occupants of the room. Terius rolled his eyes as his wings burst out from his shoulders once more, fluttering forward to shield Draco from view. He didn't seem to care that he'd shredded the robes he'd just meticulously repaired. The protective stance was clear and from the slightly bored look on his face, no one dared say anything about it. His protection included both Snape and Draco.

"Albus." Severus began, tiredly. "As you can see, I have safely escorted Mr. Potter to your immediate presence. If you would, I take my leave. Terius?"

There was an answering grunt. The grey and red wings fluttered, gently, but Draco remained hidden from view.

Harry blinked. They were just going to leave? Just like that? And, and-! He opened his mouth and then shut it when twin glares came in his direction. Coming from Snape, it was bad enough, but the new layer of steel and ice he'd seen in Terius' eyes made Snape's black-eyed glare all that worse.

Harry was sure he'd somehow missed something. He'd been there the entire time, but something significant had happened and somehow, he'd missed it.

The men shifted, but the Headmaster wasn't even looking at them, instead, his twinkling blue eyes were fixed on a certain, messy-haired Gryffindor. "Ah, Harry. Lemon drop?" He offered, again.

Harry blinked. That was not what he expected. He heard Snape snort in the background and a low growl that probably had come from Terius. The DADA professor was quite vocal in his growls. A pink blush dusted across his cheeks as his thoughts somehow diverted to a completely unwanted train of thought. Harry gulped and hurriedly summoned up his Gryffindor courage. "No thank you, sir." He said, politely. "Professor Snape said you wanted to see me, sir?" He asked, politely. There didn't seem to be a safe way out of this prickly situation.

"Actually, Harry, I wanted to ask you to visit Poppy for a check-up. Minerva tells me that your-"

Poppy was finally released from Snape's silencing spell and binding spell with a flick of Dumbledore's wand as the Headmaster continued his conversation. She glared at them both. "What, exactly, was that for, Severus!" She demanded. "I wouldn't have-"

A muffled sound from Terius' corner had her stopping in midsentence. She frowned at him, the memory of Draco's fangs snapping too close to her hand resurfacing. "I mean you no harm." She said, deliberately and slowly. She was not used to dealing with this kind of volatile situation. Most confrontations were over quickly and easily enough. This was starting to wear on her nerves and the very volume of magical energy in the room was beginning to give her a headache.

The DADA Professor merely glared at her, tightening his grip on the sleeping armful of Draco Malfoy.

The medi-witch nibbled on her lower lip for a moment and then sighed. "Which one of you do I need to ask to see to Mr. Malfoy?"

Terius gave an audible growl this time, his teeth bared in her direction, pointed fangs showing.

She retreated by a few steps and then turned to the Potions Master who seemed to be relaxing and somewhat amused. "That would be me, Poppy." He said, stiffly. "And I think that Draco is fine for now."

"Fine?" She perked a brow. "You walk in here with a blood-covered student, Severus! You place him in one of my beds, then pick him up and suddenly, everything is fine?"

"It is a private matter and will be handled." The dark figure retorted.

"Handled?" Poppy repeated.

He didn't answer, but he gave the faintest tilt of his head towards a certain elderly wizard still in the nearby vicinity.

"Albus?" She rounded on the unsuspecting Headmaster with a huff. "I won't have my hospital wing turned into a-" She swallowed. It seemed the rest of the Dragel drama was catching up to her. "What was that? What just happened?"

"Now, now, Poppy." The Headmaster twinkled at her, cheerfully. "I did warn you at the start of the school year that there might be a few surprises."

"You didn't tell me Severus Snape would be one of those surprises!" She snapped, hands on her hips. "And this young man!" She gave a jerk of her head towards Terius. "Absolutely no manners! Of all the nerve, Albus! Of all the nerve!" She spluttered for a few minutes. "I don't even want to know what he is!" She then frowned as her attention flickered to the rumpled hospital bed and she began to cast the necessary charms and spells to set it to right out of pure habit. It seemed as if no one would be offering to answer her questions any time soon, so she continued about her usual things. She stiffened a moment later when her wand spat out a result she hadn't been prepared for. "Albus." Her voice was dangerous.

"It is quite all right, Poppy." He said, genially.

She stared at him, tempted to ask if he was barking mad. The temptation was nearly impossible to resist. She managed—barely. "Traces of Blood Magic is not quite all-"

Dumbledore's smile didn't waver as he moved forward to inspect the bed and gave a half-hearted flick of his wand. "Ah, what traces?"

The matron stared at him. The reading from her wand changed. Her mouth opened and closed, and then she turned away with an indignant squeak.

Harry inched towards the doors. He was close. So close! No one would notice if he were to slip out now…

His back rested against the heavy doors and he fumbled, quickly, behind him for the door knobs. All he needed to was to grab one of the-!

And of course, classically, his luck ran out.

Almost as if they were one, all eyes in the room turned to look at him, from professor to medi-witch and Headmaster. every stern gaze all but physically pinned him to the door.

Harry gulped. He really should have run.

Why did his luck have to end now?

Harry found himself sitting on the newly made bed, with his hands tucked under his thighs as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand up and down him, with pursed lips. She looked even more displeased than usual as she tended to him. He managed to gather a small collection of scrapes and bruises from where the first backlash of Snape's angry energy had thrown him to the dungeon floors.

Harry was trying his best not to squirm under the twin glares of the two professors who had yet to leave the infirmary. Why they were still there, Harry didn't care. He was just glad they were. He wanted to ask them some questions—and he wouldn't be taking no for an answer!

"A Dragel inheritance." Dumbledore said, at last. He stood off to the side, careful not to interfere with a bustling Poppy, who briskly murmured healing spells and rubbed a few daubs of bruise salve into the injured areas. "I had hoped you would be comfortable to speak to me about everything, Harry. Do you understand what has happened?"

Harry looked down the wand being waved in front of his legs, from the tip of his shoes to the tops of his knees. He hoped Poppy was about done. He shrugged in answer to the Headmaster's question. There wasn't anything he wanted to say to that. In fact, if it were up to him, he would have rather left the Headmaster in the dark.

"This is quite serious." The white-haired wizard commented, when Harry offered no input. "This should not have turned out this way." The twinkling blue eyes shifted to the odd trio, still standing a respectable distance away, but seemingly lost in their own little world.

Harry frowned. One piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "Is that why you hired Professor Terius?" He studiously avoided the gaze of said professor as he dared to ask the question. The man had looked up at the mention of his name.

Dumbledore smiled in that usual infuriating way of his. "It would seem as if you two are not quite…getting along."

If Terius heard, there was no reaction.

Harry snorted. As nice as the DADA classes were and as interesting as each lesson was, there remained a deliberate barrier between him and the professor—one that was not helped in the least by this most recent development. Of course, now that he could see that they shared a rather obvious thing in common, Harry could feel his Dragel self pushing him to be polite, respectful and to do whatever he could to get and stay in the good graces of the small circle in front of him. His Dragel wanted, craved—no, needed—acceptance! Harry struggled inwardly with it, forcing the voices to quiet down and working his best to keep the natural instincts at bay.

"Mr. Potter, do you mind?" Madam Pomfrey looked at him in exasperation. "Kindly stop trying to block me! I cannot perform the slightest scan if you do not allow me to read your magical-"

"I'm not doing anything." Harry stared at her in confusion. He couldn't. He didn't have any magic. Not a single scrap!

"He doesn't know he's doing it." Terius interrupted. He still scowled and now said scowl seemed as if it were permanently etched in his features. He was rocking side to side, ever so slightly with a sleepy Draco in his arms, the grey and red wings having folded away once more. Soft, contented noises occasionally came from the resting blond.

The sight might have been amusing if Harry hadn't seen Draco's bloodied body just moments before. If he hadn't realized that said blond was part of a mated Dragel circle—he might have laughed his head off and gotten rid of a bit of tension in the air and in himself. As it was, instead, he could literally feel his own soul crying out for the same tenderness that was obviously displayed in the way that Terius and Snape hovered over Draco. They cared about the pureblooded brat in a way that defied all logic that Harry could piece together. They were even at each other's throats for him. Even now, Snape still kept a hand on Draco's shoulder, uncaring that he was partially wrapped around the younger professor to do so.

Harry found himself wondering which was which in their mated hierarchy. He wasn't sure yet. It seemed as if the answer should be painfully obvious, but he was distracted by Poppy poking him with something in the side. An undignified yelp came out in response.

Two answering hisses made him relax and then tense when he realized the effect said reassurances had on him. He'd panicked and reacted and just like some of the odd dreams he'd had, there'd been an answer in return. Harry gulped. "I'm not doing anything." He said, at last. The Headmaster was giving him a disappointed look and while it didn't have the same effect as one of Snape's Death Glares, it did make him squirm nonetheless. "I can't. I don't have any…magic."

Silence reigned for a long moment.

"No magic?" Dumbledore repeated. "How is that even—Harry, that can't be true. Dragels are extremely powerful and your inheritance should have magnified your natural abilities to-"

"I haven't had any magic since my birthday. I didn't try much magic until I came here." Harry found himself shrinking away under the calculating gazes. "It's just—it's not there."

Poppy's frown grew worried. "I don't like that." She said, at last. "Harry, your magic can't be completely gone, but I can't tell what's wrong with you because I cannot get an accurate reading on your-"

"Must you do everything with magic, woman?" Snape glared at her. "He is fine! He walks and talks and is just as insufferable as he's always been. There is nothing wrong with him."

"Now, Severus. There is no need for that." The Headmaster admonished. "This is a disconcerting thing, to be sure, but, Harry, I'm sure we can think of something."

"There's nothing to think about." Terius interrupted. "Just leave him be."

"I cannot, in good conscience do that, professor." The Headmaster said, calmly.

The conversations all tangled up from there.

Harry was asked to prove that he didn't have any magic, something that wasn't very difficult at all. Poppy tried several things before finally throwing her hands up in despair. She even tried muggle means, via stethoscope and a few other items, before declaring that she'd done all that she could.

Snape's snarkiness went down by several notches with each increasingly disappointing result. He seemed almost frustrated that there wasn't some sort of instantaneous fix for Harry's current dilemma. Though of course, it could have something to do with the headmaster's insistence that there had to be a cure, particularly when the Potions Master was ordered to help in any way that he could.

It had ended with another one of Terius' pointed remarks to which Snape had glared at the younger man again.

"W-what do you mean?" Harry heard himself say. This entire episode had worn on him. He didn't know how much more he could take and his body was already running through the last bit of adrenaline and returning itself to its previous state of exhaustion. He wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer unless he—a yawn escaped. "I haven't done anything to-"

Terius paused for a fraction of a section and the sea-blue-grey eyes hardened. "Precisely. You have not done a single thing." He said, coldly. "I do not acknowledge you, because you do not acknowledge yourself."

That was the last one.

A sharp pain stabbed through him.

One that he'd felt a few times already.

Harry felt the last vestiges of energy well up inside of him and he ran. He slid off the bed and bolted before anyone could react.

He ran.

Harry didn't know where or how long. He just ran as he felt his emotions simmering and threatening to burst out of him. This was how it always turned out. It didn't matter what he did, even if he 'did' nothing, his freakishness would always find a way to turn any potentially good thing into another horrible mess.

The sharp pains coursing through him had lessened the farther he'd run and now, it was just a dull ache.

A throbbing, dull ache.

Harry rounded the corner and smacked full-on into a solid, warm body.

He gave a grunt and a squeak as the momentum toppled him backwards and the figure came crashing down on top of him with an exclamation of their own.

"Harry? I didn't think you were that excited about a book and-"

The distraught boy raised his eyes to find, warm, honey-golden eyes fixed on his face, a pale brow creased in worry.

"Harry, are you alright? You look as if you've—Harry?" Theo stared down at the suddenly shaking figure beneath him. Harry was staring up at him with the most pleading expression as mere words couldn't begin to express what he wanted to hear. "Harry!" This time, more insistently. "I didn't see you there. Are you alright? Did I hurt you with-"

Quivering, pale pink lips parted in answer. The sound that came out was the softest, quietest, heart-wrenching cry that the Slytherin had ever heard. The warm golden eyes darkened by several shades and a look of complete horror registered on Theo's face. He half-jerked upright and immediately clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Harry, no!" He swallowed, rapidly. "Don't. You don't know what you're doing. Don't!" There was the faintest tremor in his voice.

Brilliant emerald eyes clouded and then faded with light, almost lifeless as shiny tears welled up within them.

Theo swore. "No, Harry. That's not what I mean, I-!" His hands fell away from Harry's mouth to grab his own hair, twining in the chocolate colored strands in frustration.

Harry whimpered and then the soft cry repeated itself.

"Harry…" Theo breathed, raggedly. "I can't. I couldn't do this to you. You don't know the-"

The tears spilled over, streaming down the pale face in great, big tracks. The cry repeated itself, the intensity fading as Harry's body began to grow limp.

Conflict warred across Theo's strained face. His hands fell to his sides and he carefully shifted so he now hovered over the fallen boy, instead of literally half-squashing him. He grimaced, stretching his jaw. A saddened tinge materialized in his honey-gold eyes as he bent his head and nuzzled gently along Harry's neck. "You don't understand, my treasure." The voice grew more rasping. "You deserve so much better than this."

The cry began to repeat itself and was interrupted halfway.

Harry twitched, struggling feebly for a moment, before relaxing.

Warm lips had covered his own and effectively silenced him, providing a different, pleasurable sensation instead. The soft lips continued to move and press gently, insistently, and Harry didn't protest when the kiss deepened and rough hands slid into his hair. The sudden, overpowering scent of sweetness flooded over him, enveloping him in sudden, safe, warmth. The lovely lips pulled away and Harry struggled to pull himself together as sleep began to tug harder on him.

"T-theo?" He managed.

"Harry." The older boy whispered. "Harry. Harry. Harry." The rough hands in Harry's messy black hair gentled at once. "Oh Harry."

The tears began to flow again and this time, they were hot and angry as they trailed down his face. Harry sniffled. This would all go pear-shaped in another few minutes. There was no way that anything good could ever happen in his life and especially now, when he really was alone after all. He'd always be alone and—another keening cry slipped past his lips.

Theo's control snapped. He snarled and the hand in Harry's hair tightened at once, roughly jerking the younger boy's head to the side as he lay, unmoving on the ground.

I knew it. Harry almost smiled. I knew it…there will never be anything good or worthwhile and

Theo's hands morphed to claws and shredded through the fabric of the upper half of Harry's Gryffindor uniform.

There was no warning.

A sharp pain stabbed through Harry's neck and shoulder. He began to struggle with, the last fragments of his energy and consciousness. A low growl sounded at his ear and Harry froze. Something inside urged him to relax, not to fight it. His own dark thoughts coaxed him to do just that. His life was messed up as it was. It would be fate if he were to simply fade off and away from everything now.

A final, hazy thought registered that someone was biting him.

No, Theo was biting him.

Theo had fangs.

Very sharp fangs and very soft lips.

The softness worked gently to ease the sharp points fastened at the juncture of his neck.

Blackness swam at the corners of his eyes and Harry surrendered.

He didn't care anymore.