Animal Attraction.

Chapter 2: Breaking Away

Harry stood under the spray of the shower. He just needed to calm down and think.

Extraordinarily fast healing…that he had never had before without the aid of magic. Sure, his bruises and light scrapes usually healed pretty quickly – but not instaneously.

Not like the deep wound in his palm that closed right before his eyes.

Harry punched the shower wall in his anger and frustration.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as pain exploded in his knuckles.

He pulled his hand back from the wall to get a good look at the damage.

And he felt like punching something again as what looked to be a misplaced bone righted itself and healed in seconds.

So stab wounds knit themselves together, and bones set themselves and reform – injuries that would take normal humans weeks to heal without the aid of magic were just…gone, in seconds.

Harry held his face underneath the spray of water, ignoring the tears that joined the pounding water.

Why was this happening to him?

He backed up against the far shower fall and slid down, hiding his face in his knees.

What could he do about it?

He wanted to ask Hermione – she always knew what to do.

And if she didn’t – she could research and find out.

But Harry had his suspicions. There had been articles in the Daily Prophet lately about the Mutant Registration Act gaining support in the United States.

Many wizards used the prejudice against mutants to show why Muggles could not be trusted with knowledge of magic – if they feared people that could just Apparate or Legilimens or transfigure things…what would they think of wizards who could do all of these things?

But Harry had never heard of a wizard who was also a mutant…

But Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and Defeater of Voldemort, always had to be special…

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After a while of just sitting underneath the spray of hot water and pondering the mess that was his life, Harry dragged himself from the shower to get changed. Ron and Hermione would be there soon, and he had to Vanish the potatoes before they arrived…

How would he explain the blood otherwise? It is not like he could tell Hermione that he cut himself with the potato peeler and his wound just healed on its own…and he was shit at healing charms, so he did not think she would take that as an explanation…

Harry sighed heavily, slipping on jeans and a light sweater and quickly drying his hair with a towel.

He looked into the mirror, his mother’s bright green eyes staring back at him from a face that most would call “pretty”.

He hated that – men were handsome, not pretty. Harry tore his eyes away from his reflection and headed downstairs.

Perhaps his best friends would not mind going out to eat in Muggle London…

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Harry sat on the loveseat facing the fireplace, smiling as the fire flared and Ron and Hermione came stumbling out of floo. Much more gracefully that he would, but still clumsy enough to make Harry smile…

“Harry!” Hermione called, coming forward to hug her best friend.

“Hullo, Mione,” Harry responded softly, hugging her back. “How are your parents?”

“Mum and Dad are getting settled,” she replied seriously. “They wanted to know all about what has happened in the past year – and why reporters from the Wizarding World are concerned about their daughter’s every move.”

“You are a celebrity now, Mione,” Harry said with a smile.

“You are telling me, mate,” Ron cut in, pulling his girlfriend away from his best friend. “We cannot go outside without being mobbed, and you holing yourself up in Grimmauld is not helping us.”

“I’m sorry, Ron,” Harry apologized softly. “I just…I need time.”

Ron nodded in understanding.

“So what’s for dinner?” the redhead asked, changing the subject.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look – that Ron, always thinking with his stomach…

“I was thinking we could go out to Muggle London…” Harry suggested. “Dinner did not turn out as well as I had hoped, so I had to Vanish it…”

Hermione chuckled at him, shaking her head.

“When will you give up on cooking things the Muggle way, Harry?” she asked fondly.

“It is relaxing!” Harry protested as the trio walked out the front door of Grimmauld.

The three laughed and joked and enjoyed each other’s company as they walked to a nearby restaurant, ignoring the war and the grief and the loss for a while…

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After the three had been seated and served their meals, the discussion turned to more serious topics…

“So, mate,” Ron began. “When are you going to talk to Ginny? She has been miserable lately…”

“Ron…” Harry trailed off, pained. “I did talk to Ginny.”

“Then why is she…” the redhead stopped. “You broke it off with her?”

“We weren’t together,” his best friend replied. “I…I can’t be what she wants. I thought about everything a lot after the Final Battle, and…dying really puts a lot into perspective.”

Harry chuckled weakly at this.

“More than anything, I want a family. I want your family, Ron. And it wouldn’t be fair to Ginny if
I dated her, eventually married her, because I wanted us to be brothers. Because I wanted your parents to be my parents, and your brothers to be my brothers. I love her in the same way that you love her. She is beautiful, of course, but I…” Harry trailed off at this.

“That is very mature of you, Harry,” Hermione commented softly, and Harry met her brown eyes nervously. “I am glad you realized before you two became more involved…”

“Realized what?” Ron asked, interrupting the understanding passing between his girlfriend and his best friend.

“Ron…” Harry gulped, gathering all of his courage. “I think…I think I might be gay.”
Ron’s mouth opened in astonishment.

“Wh-what?” he bellowed, pushing his chair back and standing up.

Harry winced as many eyes turned to them, and Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs to get him to shut up, and then pulled him back down to his chair.

“Be quiet!” she hissed to her boyfriend. “And be supportive!”

Ron breathed out heavily and nodded.

“You think?” the redhead asked.

“I don’t…I haven’t really tested it, yet,” Harry replied. “There might just be something wrong with me, and I just…I just might not like anybody in that way.”

“Harry, there are some people who are asexual and just not attracted to anybody,” Hermione comforted. “That doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Harry admitted painfully. “I…I don’t want…”

He could feel tears pooling at the corner of his eyes, and he swiped them away angrily. This was not the time to cry…

“You won’t be alone,” Ron comforted awkwardly. “You have us.”

Harry looked at him timidly.

“You mean that?” he asked softly. “You don’t hate me?”
Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads.

“You could never do anything to make us hate you, Harry,” Hermione insisted. “We’re best friends.
We’ve been through everything together.”

Harry smiled at them tremulously.

“Thanks…” he whispered.

The three turned to their food, a comfortable silence falling over them for a bit before they began talking about inconsequential things once again.

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The trio headed back to Grimmauld Place after dinner.
They sat comfortably in the living room, Ron and Hermione sharing the loveseat and Harry on the other couch.

“I have something else I need to tell you…” Harry trailed off softly.

“You’re not getting a sex change, are you, mate?” Ron joked, wincing when the other two just stared at him blankly.

So much for lightening the mood…

“No, I’m not getting a sex change,” Harry denied. “But I think…I think I might need a change of a different kind. I want to travel a bit, away from England. I want to be able to go outside without worrying about getting mobbed. I want to…I want to be able to explore who I am without worrying that it is going to make the front page of every newspaper.”

“And you don’t want us to go with you,” Hermione added softly, reading the resolve in Harry’s face.
Harry shook his head.

“You guys have a life here – family here,” he replied.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“Well, I can only speak English, which really limits my options because I want to blend in,” Harry answered. “So I was thinking Australia or America.”

“Or Canada,” Hermione pointed out helpfully.

“I just…I want someplace where nobody will recognize me,” Harry continued.

Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding.

“Well, let’s discuss all the different options…” Hermione began.

Harry smiled softly as he and his friends debated the pros and cons of different areas.

He had the best friends in the world…

Too bad he couldn’t tell them the real reason he was leaving was because he was afraid that he was a mutant and that the Wizarding World would not be too accepting of their hero being such a freak…

The less they knew, the better for them. Voldemort was finally gone, and Harry was not going to drag Ron and Hermione into any more dangerous wars…

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A week later…

“Write us when you get to Australia,” Hermione instructed.

Harry gave hugged Ron and Hermione one last time before reaching for the International Portkey that was bringing him to Canada, despite what his friends may have thought. It was time to cut ties…

“I will miss you guys,” he said softly before disappearing.

Ron and Hermione stared after him with wide eyes.

“I…have a bad feeling about this, Ron,” the brunette told her boyfriend anxiously. “I don’t like him going off on his own…”

Ron nodded in agreement.

“He just needs time,” he whispered, trying to reassure himself as much as his girlfriend.

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A few weeks later…

July 31st, 1998

“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered softly, twirling the lemon around with a straw in his whiskey and coke.

You could drink at eighteen in Canada, not that bartenders really asked in the Northwest Territories…

And this was his first drink as an adult…he should have been sharing it with his friends in the Three Broomsticks, but instead he was alone in the middle of nowhere…

“How old is the birthday boy?” a rough voice asked from his left.

Harry turned to meet dark brown eyes and a toothy smile. His green eyes locked on the man’s sharp canines…too long and too sharp to be normal.

“Eighteen,” he replied, hoping the man would leave him alone.

“You’re a pretty little thing…” the man purred, reaching a hand over to stroke at Harry’s delicate wrist.

His nostrils flared, taking in the sweet scent of the youth in front of him. There was just something about him…

“I’m not pretty…” Harry muttered, green eyes locked on the big hand stroking his soft skin.

This man looked like he could snap him like a toothpick without even trying.

“What’s your name?” the man demanded, grip tight around Harry’s wrist.

He needed to know. He needed to know everything…

“Why don’t you give me yours first?” Harry spat, refusing to be intimidated.

He tried to pull his wrist away, but the man just held tighter.

“Victor,” the man growled. “You?”

“Let go,” Harry demanded, twisting his arm and trying to pull away.

“Tell me your name,” Victor ordered, nails sinking into the delicate skin of Harry’s wrist.

Harry hissed in pain.

“Harry,” he answered. “Now let me go.”

Victor did as the youth demanded, watching with sharp eyes as the wounds he inflicted healed in seconds.

“I could have a lot of fun with that,” Victor smirked, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick the blood from his fingernails.

Harry shuddered in fear at the lustful look in the man’s dark eyes. He could feel something building in him as his fear rose, and Victor’s nostril flared with the scent coming from the youth.

“No,” he shook his head, standing from the bar stool and leaving his drink. “No, you can not!”

With that, he Apparated.

Victor already knew he was a mutant – let him think that teleporting was one of his abilities.

Harry just needed to get away from there…

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Author’s Note: Please let me know what you think so far. I know this chapter moved kind of quickly, but I wanted to get the background for Harry out of the way…I have a lot of different ways I can write this, and I would really appreciate reader feedback and suggestions.

Oh, and let me know if you have any questions. Sometimes I take background knowledge for granted, especially with the X-Men universe…