My Fallen Angel

A/N:
Ok. Um... Hello? Anyone remember me? I'm the crappy author that almost never updates this story. I just wanted to say, I'm still alive and no, this story is not abandoned and won't be, I assure You.

A quick review answer:
Hambares: My constant reader from chapter one (Gosh, how I LOVE to say that!). Yes, the sizures are a pain, aren't they? But there will be some fun, I promise. And Thank You for the kind words. My schedule is fine now. (Or as fine as it can be at my Uni. It's a mad house, it is.)

Shadow: I'd love to e-mail You with news of update, but Your e-mail is hidden.

Snarky: I read my work through at least three times before I post it, Dear. And use Word grammar check. I do what I can, but there's always something that will slip through. That's why I ask people to point out my errors.
I had a beta. A fantastic, Brit one. But You can see how often I update. I'd feel like a total berk writing her. 'Hello. You probably don't remember me, but You've betaed this fic for me. So maybe, if You don't have anything other to do, You could look at this?' Not very likely.
As for the matter of this fic, I wasn't aiming for 'epic' with it. Rather for 'good fun'. I hoped it will be something people would read with a smile and maybe go back to it sometimes, when they have some time to spare. I don't know if I can manage that. Time and readers will tell.

Disclaimer: The world, characters and places used in this story belong to JKR's book Harry Potter. I have no profit from useing them.

Pairing: HP/SS

Rating: NC17


~~Chapter seven~~

Draco tugged at the back of a small group of Slytherins. Normally he would be leading them. He was a Malfoy, after all. And they were going to his godfather, weren’t they? This time, though, he much preferred his solitude. He needed to think.

He was thinking the same problem over and over since the first gossip started to seep into the common room. After a sleepless night, he was as close to any conclusions as he was at the start. It was aggravating him to no end. The word was that Harry was a Vanteera. A Vanteera! The mere idea was hilarious. It was laughable to the point of incredulity. Draco was ready to believe that it was some kind of joke, only… No pureblood would have joked about Vanteera’s. He was as sure of that as he was sure that no… muggleborn… had the barest inkling of the creatures existing. Well, maybe with the exception of Granger. Merlin knew the bookworm dug out all kinds of information.

So, assuming that it was a true information, how could Potter withhold something like that?! Draco knew he wasn’t exactly Potter’s friend, but he thought that the other man considered him an ally. He boiled on the inside. When the news came out, it will be his family that will pay for not getting it to the Dark Lord’s attention sooner! He felt an urge to stomp to Dumbledore’s office and demand the stupid prat be punished. Only then had it occurred to him that the old wizard was possibly the one to order Potter to be quiet.

On the other hand, though, it was just impossible. There hadn’t been any Fallen Angels for over five hundred years. That one should appear now, when they were at war, and for it to be Harry bloody Potter… It was simply too much to even consider. The paintings obviously had too much time on their oil hands. They were making up more and more outrageous stories. Spreading gossip of non-existent romances on the staff (Because, really, Pince and Filch?!) was one thing, but calling people Vanteeras was something else entirely.

But, at the same time, should it happen to be a valid information, it would explain a lot of things. The new eating habits, the new appearance… At first, Draco thought that the Muggles left the other man with something that Pomfrey couldn’t easily fix. Founders knew that Potter couldn’t cast a decent glamour* if his life depended on it.

If it weren’t valid, than… Inwardly, Draco howled with frustration. It was leading nowhere. The rumour was just too sensational. It left him with far too many ‘what ifs’ and ‘how’s’. Some of his housemate’s must have reached the same conclusion, because he found them in the common room when he decided to give up on sleep. At five thirty in the morning, it was agreed that they would go and try to get some answers from the source. Not Potter himself, of course. Nothing short of seeing his wings would be proof enough, if it came from the Gryffindor Golden Boy. And wouldn’t it be downright debasing, if it all proved to be true, for the whole school to know that they couldn’t recognize a Vanteera? No, they will ask someone far more reliable and discreet. The portraits said that the transformation took place when Severus was levitating Potter to the hospital wing. He will know and they will have to somehow deduce the truth from his reaction.

And so, he was tugging along with a cluster of a few seven, six, and even some more adventurous fifth years. As they walked, Draco wondered what they reaction will be at seeing his godfathers chambers. He remembered that for him it was similar to seeing the Grate Hall for the first time. He smirked a little at the thought. It wasn’t that Slytherins didn’t know where their Head’s of House private chambers were; Snape made a point of showing them the entrance and telling that they could find him there if necessary. In all the years Draco was at the school, he hasn’t heard of one person taking him up on the offer.

They reached the door rather quickly. Suddenly everyone was looking at him. Even the decisive, self-assured Beithe something-or-the-other (He really should remember her surname), that was leading up to now, has reluctantly turned to him in the presence of the simple, oak door. The blond scowled. Severus was not going to be happy with this and the young man didn’t fancy being the focus of his displeasure. It seemed that he had no choice, though. Unless he wanted to spend the rest of the morning in the corridor, which he didn’t. He made his way to the head of the small crowd and knocked hard on the door. A moment of silence stretched indefinitely and some of his companions started to fidget like nervous first years. Then, suddenly, they heard footsteps on the other side and the door were yanked open.

“It’d better be something important,” growled a bed-rugged Snape. Some subconscious part of Draco’s mind noted that whatisname girl started drooling at the site of the wizard in the black, silk bathrobe he gave his godfather for Christmas. His conscious mind prompted him to open his mouth before said wizard lost his temper.

“Sir, there’s word going ‘round that Potter is a Vanteera. Some portraits maintain that they saw his wings and…”

“Mister Malfoy.” Oh, oh… “I would expect a first year to come to me with information from such a… dependable source of knowledge as portrait gossip, but a seventh year Head Boy? You should…” Draco never got to know what he should, or should not, have done, as the sound of doors creaking open inside the chamber interrupted the rant mid sentence. Many shocked pairs of eyes watched past the stunned man as an enormous black panther came out of a room behind the Potions Master’s back. Its wings must have decided to sleep in, for they dragged on the floor behind it.

“A Fallen Angel!..” gasped someone at the back.

That snapped the professor out of his shock and the next thing they new, there were doors slammed in their faces and wards brought up. They stared, rooted to the floor, for a moment longer before the mad buzz of conversation erupted. Draco tried to pay attention to his surroundings while his thoughts run in circles once again.

Harry Potter was a Vanteera and that somehow led to his presence in his godfather’s bedroom at wee hours of the morning.

Ok… That part seemed good, if a little unexpected. Severus deserved happiness and this just might give him some of that. Potter was almost hufflepuffish in his need to make everybody happy. The bad part was that his housemates knew and soon the whole school will know and then…

“I have to write my father! I swear he’ll flop! I just wish I could be there to see his face!”

…the whole of the Wizarding England will know too, Draco finished his thought. He tried not to glare at Nott’s younger brother. Well, he can at least try to postpone the inevitable. The blond dug out a pencil and a scrap of parchment and made a show of scribbling down a quick note, before heading to the owlery. No one followed him yet, but Draco knew they would, sooner or later. As soon as they find something to write the detailed and scandalously out of proportion recounting of the event on.

*~*~*~*

Harry was nervous. No, that was an understatement, at the very least. Compared to this feeling, he was just slightly put out the night of Voldemort’s rebirth. He was in the state of utter panic. He wrung his hands together or put them deep in his pockets just to rack them through his hair a moment later. He was constantly stopping, looking around, going back in his track… And it was still too damn fast when the Fat Lady startled him with her aloof ‘Password’. He had to rake his mind for a moment to remember.

“Monkshood,” he muttered. McGonagall was getting weird with her choices lately. The portrait looked him up and down once more before swinging open. He stepped in, sighting. He was mentally organising and reorganising his upcoming conversation, so the quiet groan from the sofa made him almost jump. He whirled around.

“Harry?..” A sleepy voice called out.

“Ron…” breathed the Vanteera. His shoulders slumped and he put away the wand that suddenly appeared in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. What do you think?”

“Nn?.. Wha’s up?”

“Cinderella’s back.”

“Harry!” Hermione’s head pooped up, over the back of the sofa, accompanied by an “ompf” of air being suddenly forced out of someone’s lungs. A moment later his other friend sat up, ruffled and massaging his belly. Harry smiled lightly to himself. He knew how they must have fallen asleep. “What happened? We were worried. Pomfrey wouldn’t let us in or tell anything.” Harry plopped down next to them and spelled the flames higher, while they sat up. “You look better. Maybe it’s for the best that she let you rest. Do you know what happened to professor Snape? He…”

“Did you know that Vanteera’s are a mating species?” It wasn’t at all what he wanted to say when he opened his mouth, but he guessed it was something to start with. And if he didn’t have their full attention already, she sure as hell would have got it now.

“No,” Hermione laced her fingers together and leaned forward slightly, “we didn’t.”

“Well, they are. And I have a mate too. For some time I knew it was someone from the Old Crowd… It wasn’t so hard to find out who,” he glanced up. Ron looked like broken streetlights: red, green, white, pasty, red, redder… “it was… And… Um… Anyway, I…”

“Is that were?..”

“It’s Snape,” came out in a rush. He ducked his head and listened to the deafening silence. It was all or nothing now.

“So that settled than,” sighted Ron. “Finally, I’d say! And Harry, mate, next time, don’t scare me so much. For a moment there I thought you were going to say Malfoy, or even worse – Hermione. ‘Cause she’s mine, you know? And I’m not sharing.”

“What am I?! A broomstick?!” exclaimed Hermione at the same time as the Vanteera croaked out.

“You’re not?” They looked at him a bit funny. “I mean... You’re not mad? I thought… Are you both OK with Sn… erm… Severus and me?”

“If I’d say I’m delighted, I’d be lying. I’ve always hoped to have you for a brother-in-law. You know that. But it’s not about me. It’s about you and… Don’t expect me to be reasonable and supportive all the time, but… As long as my best friend is happy, I’m ok.” Harry felt awfully like crying. He’s emotions must not have settled yet. “Because you are happy, right?” He could only nod, while trying to blink back the tears. “As I said then: finally.” The green-eyed man felt a grin forming on his face when suddenly it hit him.

“Wait a minute! What do you mean ‘finally’?”

“Oh, come on Harry!” exclaimed Hermione. “You’ve been looking at him as if he’s the last oasis left on a dessert planet with three suns for almost half a year.”

“You knew?..”

“We were waiting for you to tell us. We love you Harry.” She put her hand on his. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“Thanks guys. I love you both too. And it really means a lot. I…”

“Wait!” Hermione’s hand snapped back and she pinned Harry with her glare. “That’s why Pomfrey wouldn’t let us in, isn’t it?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Ron, confused. The girl rolled her eyes.

“She wouldn’t let us in because there was no one to visit in the ward.”

“Um…” A slight smile tugged the corners of Harry’s lips up and he scratched the back of his neck. Red stained his cheeks.

“Oi, mate! I said it’s all right, but that doesn’t mean that I want to now the details!”

“I wasn’t about to give you any! And it wasn’t like that, anyway!” he protested at the same time as Hermione exclaimed:

“It’s against the rules!” After a moment of ringing silence she asked, “What do you mean ‘not like that’?”

“The same thing all people mean when they say it. Not that it’s any of your business, but nothing happened. We just talked,” snapped the Vanteera.

Ron let lose a snort and started giggling. “You’ve been after the man for probably more than a year, and the first time you have him all to yourself, for the whole night, all you do is talk?” Hermione elbowed him hard but he prowled on. “Sorry, mate, but are you sure everything’s all right?” Harry’s fingernails changed to sharp, feline claws, alternately hiding and digging into the arms of his armchair. “Or was it just that old Snape couldn’t stand up to the challenge?”

“Apparently some people don’t think with their nether regions.” The room filled with the low growl. The giggle died on the redheads lips and he paled a little.

“I was just teasing Harry.” The other young man crossed his arms and turned to the fire, but the claws turned back to normal fingernails. “I’m sorry. Really. I haven’t meant anything. You know that, don’t you?” pleaded Ron. “You know me: I don’t think, yeah? Ask Hermione. She’ll tell you I don’t.”

“Yes, I know. And no, you don’t.” Harry slumped in his seat and looked up at his friends. “I know you didn’t mean anything, but… I’m sure to get lots of crap now, and I’ll really need your support and help. And not only pointed glares.” He smiled a bit at Hermione. “Sorry Mi, but you’re nowhere near Severus when it comes to glaring.”

“I know Harry. He probably got special lessons when he was a kid,” she laughed.

“Maybe. Anyway. I will really need your help. I… Dumbledore wants me to come to him about those rules and… You know how I am when I wake up too early in the morning?"

“How you don’t see…”

“Or hear…”

“…anyone…”

“…or anything…”

“…until you have the first cup of that…”

“…thing you dare to call… Why doesn’t Merlin ever smite you?”

“…coffee in.”

“No, never noticed,” they finished in unison.

Harry blinked slowly. “I don’t know weather to laugh or panic. How long have you been channelling the twins?” He was chuckling softly by the end. He became serious again quickly. “It seems that when I’ve lost consciousness, I’ve also lost control of my magic. Some portraits saw my wings. For all I know most school already knows. Some Slytherins came to Sna… came to Severus for confirmation and…” He looked into the fireplace and shrugged his shoulders.

“I guess Dumbledore won’t be too happy about that,” agreed Hermione.

“You guess?” said Harry miserably.

“Would you like us to go with you?”

“Actually, Snape… Severus, damn it!” Ron laughed and Harry shot him a dirty look. “I was told to bring you along.”

“Struggling with the first names, aren’t you?” asked the girl and Harry flushed.

“Well, I’m struggling. The git doesn’t seem to have any trouble,” groused the Vanteera. His friends both laughed, Ron looking vaguely relieved.

“So. Let me know when the meeting is, ok?” said the redhead, flopping back to the sofa.

“I guess now would be quite the moment to leave.”

“Couldn’t you let me know before I lay down?” groaned his friend, earning himself a slap up the head from Hermione.

“Come on, you! I swear I’ve never known a person more lazy than you. Up and support your friend right now, Ronald Weasley!” she said with hands on her hips.

“I’m going, I’m going! Shish! I wonder, maybe you’re right Harry and women are too much trouble to bother.” He winked at his friend.

“And maybe you’re just too much trouble for anyone to bother.” She said and exited the room, flopping her hair back. Harry snickered at his friend’s gobsmacked face and followed the girl.

“Coming?” he asked.

When they caught up with her, she cast refreshing and de-wrinkling spells over Ron, seemingly forgetting the previous comment.

“Want some to, Harry?”

“No, thanks. I showered before I left S… dungeons.” He decided not to mention who he showered with. They were sure to make more of it then it really was. Though, on second thought, it wasn’t your ordinary shower. The memory of strong, long-fingered hands sliding over his body was just threatening to overwhelm him, when Hermione’s voice brought him back to reality.

“I was going to tell you yesterday that there definitely was nothing between Professor Snape and that … woman. I guess it goes without saying now.”

“You guess?” smiled Harry.

“Now that that is clear, I hope you won’t be attempting to starve yourself anymore.”

“I wasn’t starving myself,” he answered dryly.

“And what will you call eating almost nothing for days?”

“My magic trying to make me do things would be a bit closer.”

“Well… I… Just don’t do it anymore.” She was clearly flustered.

“I won’t. It’s nice to know that someone worried.” They shared a smile.

“I was wondering,” Ron piped up. “Do you know what this whole apprentice nonsense was about?”

Harry was about to answer when they reached the gargoyle. It hopped to the side at their approach. “I’ll tell you later.”

*~*~*

Severus was already nursing a cup of tea when they reached the tower office.

“Harry, Ron, Hermione! Welcome! Please do be seated! Tea?” They sat in the armchairs that popped into existence and accepted their cups. “Am I right in thinking that we all know why we’re here?” When they all nodded, he turned his whole attention to Harry. “Harry, my dear boy, I hoped that you put our differences behind.”

“I did. Really,” mumbled the teen. The lack of the usual twinkle in the blue eyes weighting on his conscience.

“Why haven’t you come to me when you realised who your mate is?” At the lack of answer he sighted. “Harry, I know you and Severus have your differences,” the man in question suddenly became parched, judging by how fast he started to drink, "but don’t you think it’s all the more reason to seek help?”

“I… Um… This had nothing to do with… our differences. I just felt it was better to let it run its course.”

“Yes, I’ve always said that love is quite like the cold,” murmured the Potions Master into his teacup. “And everyone knows you love to meddle.” They all gave a startled laugh and some of the sparkle came back to the headmaster’s eyes.

“Your sense of humour is exceptional, my dear boy,” chuckled the old wizard and brushed away a tear. Ron mouthed ‘sense of humour’ at Hermione, who promptly smacked his arm. “Some days I wonder why you persist on hiding it so much.”

“Headmaster,” Snape spoke up lauder, when it was obvious that there was more to come. “I would appreciate it if we could get to the point. We all have other things to do today. Namely: classes for me and those young people, and spellcasting, arranging and repealing a flock of vultures for you.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right, my boy. We’re getting there.” Harry wondered how Snape could look composed and furious at the same time. It seemed like a trait of all those working with Dumbledore, though: the ability to look calm, no matter what other emotions you felt at the moment. The old wizards voice brought him back to the present time. “I hope you talked out at least some of your differences yesterday.”

“In a way, yeah…”

“In a way? I don’t think…”

“We’ve covered the most pressing ones and skipped the rest in favour of a few hours sleep. We’ll have time enough for talking later.”

“Yes. Well, there’s nothing for it now. What is most important at the moment is the matter of rules for teacher – student relationships. I’ve looked into the schools Code Book. The only rules I could find date back to the Middle Ages. It states that such a relationship can be excused only if the parties are a married couple.” The statement was obviously meant to bring forth some kind of reaction, but as far as Harry was concerned it didn’t work. In fact, except for S…eveus taking an extraordinary long sip of his tea, they just all looked expectant.

“I’m sorry,” he ventured, “but isn’t it all the same? I mean, we are mates, aren’t we? It’s basically the same.”

“Not exactly,” Hermione piped in, only to look reluctant to continue when all the eyes in the room turned to her. “Well… You see, Harry… It is true that mates are considered to be the same as bonded couples, but…”

“But?”

“For mates to be recognised as such, they have to… um…” Colour raised in the girl’s cheeks. “They need to have an intercourse,” she rushed out on a breath, clearly embarrassed to say that with the older wizards in the room. “You can see, I hope, how this is a big problem in your case.”

“Yeah. I can see that,” Harry said sullenly.

“Harry, my dear boy, I am not as old as to not understand your… ah… point of view, but it’s not as bad as you seem to think. I’m sure we can arrange everything so that the bonding could take place by the end of the month.”

“Yeah, why not? It’s no big deal anyway, is it? Only a month with not as much as a kiss, or Snape looses his job. And in the mean time my own magic will starve me to death!” he finished on a shout. He was on his feet, though he didn’t remember standing up, and he could feel his teeth sharpen to points.

“Calm down, Harry.” Snape managed to sound gentle and commanding at the same time. Harry was so angry at that moment, he almost lashed out at the man. How can he be so calm, damn him?! But then a warm hand wound around his wrist and tugged him onto the arm of Snape’s armchair. The warmth emanating from the other man, the feeling of his magic calmed Harry in a way nothing else ever did. He settled down, leaning slightly into the man. “I’m sure something can be arranged. You are a Vanteera. It is against the law to do anything that might hurt or endanger you.”

“Oh…”

“On another note,” Severus kept talking. “If it is so easy to arrange everything Headmaster, what is troubling you? Why this meeting?”

“Straight to the point, as always. Yes. I’m afraid there is a slight difficulty. As I’ve said, the only rules I managed find date back to the Middle Ages. Unfortunately for us, they are very thorough. Beyond some minor rules concerning meals and leaving arrangements, there are two more immediately important for us. One derives from the other in a way…”

“Albus…” glowered Snape.

“Yes. The problem is that the marriage must be known in the way it would mean in those times.” Harry had absolutely no idea what was the significance of that, but the looks on Dumbledore’s and Hermione’s faces made him apprehensive.

“I’m sorry Headmaster, but I’m in no way an expert on bonding traditions, contemporary or otherwise. I am sure Harry is equally ignorant in those matters. We would appreciate it, if you could be a little more straightforward.” Harry nodded, somehow managing not to feel stupid.

“You see, my boys, in those times most wizards were still nomads. Gypsies, if you like. They lived in close knitted communities and their norms of propriety were much different than ours. For the marriage to be considered known all those inside the community must attend the ceremony. And we talk here about a handfasting or proper bonding.” The man looked at the Potions Master over his half-moon glasses. “Marriage contracts are fairly recent inventions. In fact, they’re a little younger than me.” He smiled a little serenely and Harry hoped that was it. No such luck. The boy gnashed his teeth in anticipation of the next ‘good’ news. “And since we are talking about a Vanteera and Harry Potter here, I’m afraid the minister will insist to be the authority to perform the bonding.”

“In essence they’ll make a show for public out of my wedding! No! I won’t take this!”

“I’m afraid there’s really no other way…”

“No!”

“Er… Well…” All eyes turned to Ron, who coloured slightly. “I… That is, you don’t have to. There was a cousin of my mother once. The families from both sides didn’t get along too well. So Alfred, at least I think it was Alfred… Anyway, he and his fiancée decided to make two ceremonies. They invited one half for the handfasting and signing of the contract and the other for the bonding. You could do the same.” A deep silence took over the room. “What?” asked Ron defensively. “Bad idea?”

“Oh, Ron! Of course not! Brilliant!” exclaimed Hermione. The young man puffed up like a peacock and Dumbledore’s nod and muttered “good thinking” made him almost burst.

“Well, now! That only leaves one problem to solve. I’m afraid that this one is far more serious.” Harry sent a look at both Snape and his friends before asking.

“What is it?”

“I’m afraid that the boundaries of propriety of our ancestors were even more… relaxed than that. All members of the community must be certain that the bond was… consummated. And that means,” he talked on over the outraged gasps and Harry’s screamed ‘what’, “witnesses on the wedding night or… virgin blood.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Severus, but…”

“I said no!”

“Severus, you have to listen…”

“No.” After the last shrill shout, the word was almost inaudible. For all this, it was by far the most threatening sound that morning. “For the first time in years you will listen.” Harry almost fell of his perch, at the commanding tone. He was fairly sure that it was the utmost display of disrespect as far as Severus was concerned. “I’ve made my mistakes, but I’ve paid my dues also.” The man was leaning into Dumbledore’s desk. “I’ve suffered enough debasing and humiliation.” His hand almost crushed the cup he was still holding. “I’ve kept my mouth shut about it. But he didn’t deserve any of the things that happened. We will not have our lives turned into even more of a public spectacle. I hope, that the fact, that there will be no blood in our bed goes without saying. Now it’s up to you to figure out a way around it.”

“I might already have one for you.” All heads turned to the blond standing in the door. The young man blushed slightly, but held his head high all the same. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Ron snorted and opened his mouth but one glare from Snape made him snap it back shut, “but the door was open. I’ve managed to intercept those.” He went to the desk and put down an armful of scrolls. “It’s not all, I’m sure, but most.” He glanced at Harry and raised a brow before sitting in the abandoned armchair.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I’m sure you’ve bought us a few hours at least.” All the letters combust at once and the ashes disappeared. “And now please tell us what way around this do you have?”

“It’s a spell. My father… told me about it, when I was going for my third year. It was devised by my Great Great grandfather to ensure his daughters purity until her arranged marriage took place. It was one of the points in the contract. The moment she lost her virginity, Mona La Fay’s bells were to sound.”

“I’m sorry, my boy, but I have t ask. Are you sure that you’re father wasn’t…”

“Trying to scare me off sex? Yes. But next year he tried it again and showed me Anestar’s manuscripts, when I challenged his story.”

“Good, good.” The Headmaster was nodding. “Do you know what is the spells anchor?”

“Not really. My father was trying to scare me off sex, not introduce me to Sex Magic, sir. You’ll have to ask him.” There was a bit of stress on the last sentence.

“Yes. Thank you, young man. That leaves us with nothing to do until lunch. Lucius promised me to finish with the mansion by then.” Draco relaxed more into his armchair. “Well than, I think we may call this meeting finished. If you could come with me Severus? I need to discuss one more thing with you, before the speech.”

“Speech?” asked Harry, standing up.

“Almost two hours of free flowing gossip. I’m sure some actual fact should be given, aren’t you?” He smiled and led the way down the spiral staircase.


*Glamour spell in this case would be used to make Harry look his normal self in spite of his injuries. Apparently, Draco is of an opinion that should Harry want to use it for any other purpose (e.g. hiding his identity) the effect would be just as dismal.