lomonaaeren

Chapter Three.

Title: Love, Free As Air (4/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Warnings: Sex, angst, profanity, a bit of violence. Ignores the epilogue of DH.
Pairings: Snape/Harry/Draco.
Rating: R
Summary: Trapped in his Animagus form, Harry stumbles on Snape and Draco, who disappeared from the wizarding world years ago. His first task is to become human again. His second might be to help Snape and Draco with the same problem.
Author’s Notes: This story is being written for

heeroluva, who won a charity auction at

gulf_aid_now to raise money for the oil spill disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. She gave me the plot, for which I thank her. I’m not sure how long this story will be, though I estimate somewhere between 15 and 20 chapters. The title comes from a quote by Alexander Pope.

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Four—The Destruction of a Beak

“Severus, yes…”

Severus closed his eyes and drove deeper, faster, into Draco. He would not have been willing to admit that he had missed the cry of his name on Draco’s lips. He had thought that he did not. Why would he? He had long since come to think of Draco as childish and his promise to take the boy with him when he escaped a mistake.

But even as his body shuddered in pleasure and Draco shuddered beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and bellowing like a bull, part of Severus stood back, coldly observed the both of them, and noted that pleasure was running through Severus’s mind, too, when he heard Draco react like that.

He finished and rolled to the side, slipping out of Draco’s body. He had never liked the sensation of having his soft cock inside something, especially something that he had just made wet and dripping.

Draco opened one eye and gave him a smile of such gentleness that Severus blinked. He had not minded Draco growing colder to him because he knew that he offered only cold treatment himself, and it would be better for Draco to imitate him than whinge about it. He found himself rising to hover over Draco, tracing one finger down his cheek. Draco licked his finger, and Severus knew that his cock would have stirred again, had it been possible this close to coming.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered. “That was wonderful.” He paused, and suddenly his gaze was anxious as he looked up at Severus again. “Wasn’t it wonderful?”

It cost Severus nothing to nod and bend his head, kissing Draco until he gasped and his eyelashes fluttered. “Go to sleep,” he commanded when he drew back.

Draco did, his hand still entwined in Severus’s as though they had been in the habit of holding hands for years before this. Severus lay staring at it until that cool, observing part of his mind managed to get his attention.

Why had he agreed to have sex with Draco in the first place? Why had he seduced Draco when he heard that he was leaving? He could have allowed both Draco and Potter to walk out the door, and that would have been the end of his problems, the long-term one and the immediate. Potter would have found someone else to help him, and Severus could still have invented a potion that reversed the kind of spell Potter talked about and become rich and famous.

Instead, he had acted impulsively, driven by only one conviction: that he did not dare to let Draco leave him.

Severus leaned his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He did not intend to sleep, but he thought better when he was looking at nothing if he was thinking about a subject other than potions, and he needed to understand this. Why should he have felt as though he were falling down a well when Draco spoke of leaving?

He did not know, and no matter how long he sought in his head, he could not find an answer. The only halfway rational reason would have been if he believed that Draco would betray his location out of spite, and he knew that Draco was not that kind of person.

He could have been rid of all his problems and had the solitude, the silence, the mental loneliness he so craved. He needed neither Draco’s body nor his mind. He had never required company, and in fact did best when deprived of it.

He did not understand himself.

He passed into silence and sleep as he lay there, and awakened only when a resounding crash traveled through the house from the ground floor.

*

Harry hadn’t found the lock that hard to open after all. He had slid two bars to the side, one up, and then got out of the way just as the motion jiggled the lock and brought the steel cover clicking back down.

By then, though, it hadn’t mattered. The lock had tilted and clung drunkenly to the bars, so that the cover could no longer protect the majority of it. Harry had shoved with his beak and one foot, and the lock had twisted inwards and then fallen so that it crashed to the floor of the cage. Harry hopped triumphantly up to the door—which was a simple sliding bar without the lock—and pushed with his beak one final time, continuing when it started to hurt. He would have to do far more than endure a little pain in his face before he was done here.

The door opened, and Harry flew out into freedom, circling the room once before he headed for the corridor.

Just in time, he saw the wards that stretched across the corridor at about head and chest height on Malfoy, the wards that were specifically intended to take down flying birds. Harry had learned to recognize them pretty early after he’d learned his Animagus form, when he’d blundered into one that was intended to stop marauding crows and lain moaning on the ground until the next morning, to the Muggle farmer’s astonishment.

Shit. Harry fluttered back and landed on the couch, crouching to shit on it while he stared gloomily at the wards. Does this mean that Snape’s locked the whole lab behind them, and that I don’t have a chance of getting in there and destroying his equipment?

This was the first moment since Snape and Malfoy had vanished upstairs that Harry had been thinking instead of doing, and he wondered whether this was as good an idea as he had thought at first. Snape had been going to help him. What reason would he have to if Harry destroyed some of his equipment? Perhaps ingredients that he needed would be lost in the destruction.

But then Harry thought again of the way Malfoy had leaned back against Snape and closed his eyes, while Snape kept his open and talked in that cold, concrete way that said he knew exactly what he was doing. Malfoy had nearly flown his cage, and it was a cage, however pretty the house and however much free will he’d originally exhibited by coming here. And Snape had slammed the bars down again.

Harry could still flee now that he was out of the cage and find someone else to help him. He doubted if there was any way that he could help Malfoy flee, though. After this, Malfoy would make excuses for Snape and push any thought of freedom away because that would make him question himself intolerably. Harry had seen that sort of reaction before—from Ginny when she got involved in a bad relationship, from the Weasleys when they were faced with the fact that Mrs. Weasley was going too far in her grief over Fred, from other trainees in the Auror program who had felt trapped, like Harry, but also felt they couldn’t break away because they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves.

Harry shook his feathers as the rage returned. He might not be able to do anything about Malfoy staying a prisoner, no, but he was damned if he would accept help from his jailer.

He fluttered down to the floor and studied the wards again. Then he smiled. The wards were stretched at the heights that Snape must have thought a bird would fly.

There was nothing to prevent him from walking down the corridor, though.

Harry set off, his tail bobbing behind him, his body rolling from side to side. He had to control his parrot’s curiosity when he got near some of the other doors. He was interested in Snape’s lab only, and he should move fast, since he didn’t think that Snape would stay busy with Draco for long.

Probably fuck him and drop him as fast as he can, to get back to his precious potions, Harry thought. Malfoy deserves better than that.

He wished he could smile with a beak. That was the kind of thing he could see Ron fainting about when Harry told him he’d thought it.

The door of Snape’s lab was shut, but he had failed to engage the wards, probably because he’d come down the corridor so abruptly to stop Malfoy from leaving. Harry reached out, opened his beak, and carefully slid his tongue through the tiny gap the door left around itself. Then he pushed as hard as he could, shoving with body and beak and forehead.

The door trembled and groaned. Harry did much the same thing. The door had an unpleasant taste of wood and some kind of chemicals, probably left over from Snape’s brewing, and he didn’t like the pain he was experiencing throughout his head and neck.

But it paid off. The knob likely had wards built into it if someone touched it, and therefore Harry hadn’t wanted to try it, but the gap around the door wasn’t covered by those without the larger complex of wards Snape had forgotten to engage. And the door was old wood that couldn’t resist that kind of steady pressure. It swung open at last.

Harry waddled into the room, just in case Snape had more wards up that would prevent a flying bird from taking a straight path, and looked around. The lab was a confusion of barrels and glass objects and metals from this low on the floor, and even when he arched his neck, he couldn’t see much of what was on the shelves.

Not that that matters, Harry thought. I’ll make do with what I can find here on the ground. He turned towards a wall of metal that was probably a cauldron and saw a wooden stirring spoon lying beside it. In moments he was across the room and had picked up the spoon in his beak.

It took longer than it usually did when he wanted to destroy something made of wood; the handle was thick and twisted around in his beak rather than breaking at once. But at last he found the weak point and snapped it in two, watching as the pieces flew apart from each other. One of them hit something on the left that broke with a tinkling sound. Harry danced up and down in place, flaring out his tail and cooing.

Then he turned and climbed one of the freestanding sets of shelves to the lowest one. It was filled with glass vials deepset in slots—probably completed potions, Harry thought. He tugged on the butt of one vial and couldn’t get it to move. Each time it started to pull out, it ended up settling back into its slot again the minute he had to readjust his grip.

But that was fine. Harry was a smart bird and a smart person, and he knew what he had to do next. He started gnawing on the edge of the nearest slot, flaking away chips of wood and wearing down the container. This time, when he tugged on the vial, it slid easily to the side, because the hole was no longer as snug as it had been. Harry backed up and shook his head, and the vial was free, glittering in the dim light of the lab.

Harry stood there for long moments, half-hoping that Snape would walk through the door so that he could see what happened next.

But he didn’t, so Harry tilted his head forwards and released the vial.

It fell what seemed a longer distance than the relatively short one actually separating the shelf from the floor, and pinwheeled before it smashed. Harry watched the potion leak across the floor among shards of glittering glass, and swept his beak across his back five times in celebration before he moved on to the next vial.

He only broke five of them before he became bored, though. Besides, it was taking more work than it was worth to chew up the wooden sides of the slots so that he could wrench the vials free. He looked around for something else he could destroy.

The nearest shelf above this one had a series of books on it. Harry scraped a foot across the shelf he stood on in satisfaction. That would do better, since he could chew through leather and paper faster than wood.

How to get there, though? There were wards strung in tight, glittering lines along the shelves. There were gaps between them that would permit a smaller bird, like a wren, to get through, but not one as large as Harry.

A few moments of study led Harry to see what Snape had missed, though. He bobbed his head, ruffled out his neck feathers, and then jumped out from the shelf he was currently on and flew straight up, almost to the ceiling, keeping close to the shelf so that the wards wouldn’t sting him. Then he turned sideways and came down on the bookshelf from above. Humans didn’t think like that a lot, Harry thought in contentment as he reached for the first book. They weren’t used to living in a three-dimensional world.

The first book broke and crisped so fast under his beak that it almost wasn’t fun. So Harry grabbed the next one, which was heavy, by the spine and dragged it instead of trying to bite it. Then he twisted and flung it into the air, though he had to recover his balance with a quick flutter of his wings so that he didn’t go tumbling after it.

The book made its majestic way downwards and hit the edge of the potions vial shelf, exactly where Harry had meant to toss it. The shelf wobbled. Harry watched the long moments when it hesitatingly tipped, as if trying to make up its mind whether to surrender to gravity or to the balance of its wooden supports.

Gravity won the battle. It fell with a thunder that Harry could feel in vibrations under his feet, and the shattering and the clattering and the general damage that happened when the shelf hit the floor was like a soothing balm pressed directly on the source of Harry’s rage against Snape. He let out a victory whoop and searched for another book he could send over.

Then he heard the footsteps hastening down from the stairs.

*

The crash woke Draco from his doze, but he wouldn’t have moved if Severus hadn’t torn himself out of the bed as if he had fleas and run away. Draco lay still for a moment, wondering what it could be. Had Severus accidentally left some explosive potion brewing? That could make a sound like that.

Then an image came to him, clear as sunlight, of his hand pushing back the cover of the lock on Potter’s cage and moving one piece of it.

Draco swore and followed Severus.

Severus, he noticed, hadn’t even paused to glance into the drawing room to see if Potter was still there before he made for the lab, but Draco did. The lock clung to the bottom of the bars, and the door was open. The cage was most definitely empty.

Draco shook his head in bewilderment as he passed through the wards in the corridor and towards the lab. Potter must have known that Severus was going to help him even after they had disagreed about Draco; the challenge of the potion was too great for him to simply give it up. Why would he have turned to destroying Severus’s lab in what looked like retaliation?

Besides, Severus didn’t deserve to be punished anymore.

Draco licked his lips and savored the delicious sensation in his arse for long moments as he watched Severus disappear into the lab. He hadn’t felt anything like it in so long that it was almost strange, almost foreign.

But not really. He knew that Severus had done this as a gift to him, to keep him from leaving, but he had no problem accepting the gift despite that. There would be changes now. Draco was hopeful, because his threat of leaving shouldn’t have affected Severus that much unless he really did care. And he would follow up his advantage and press Severus to give more proof of his feelings.

Otherwise, I can always threaten to leave again.

A wordless shout came from the lab. Draco did hurry then. Severus sounded angry enough to kill Potter. What did Potter do?

He found out when he leaned through the door.

There was no room for walking in the lab, or so it seemed. The floor was strewn with glass, paper, bits of what had been the covers of books, potions, pieces of wood, and a random white fluff that Draco didn’t recognize but which had probably come from the mixture of potions. Two shelves were tipped over and leaning drunkenly. One cauldron was dented; Draco didn’t even know how Potter had managed that. The nearest window had a hole through it, though that might have come more from the spells that Severus was casting in a desperate, furious attempt to bring Potter down.

Potter was flapping around near the ceiling and screaming in fear, or maybe rage; Draco wasn’t an expert on parrot sounds. Severus aimed another curse that bounced past him and took a chunk out of the ceiling. Potter ducked under it and flew straight towards the window that didn’t have a hole through it. Draco blinked, wondering if he meant to slam himself to death against the glass rather than let Severus catch him.

But Potter suddenly changed course and swerved towards the bottom of the sill, while another curse passed over him and chopped out two panes of glass. Potter then dodged up and flew out the resulting hole.

Clever bird, Draco thought. He knew he couldn’t open the windows from in here. And then he remembered that Potter wasn’t a real bird, and snorted.

Severus started to step over to push his wand through the hole in the glass. Draco leaned back against the doorway and began clapping his hands, loudly, slowly, and deliberately. Severus would be able to tell the difference between this and ordinary applause—or, at least, Draco hoped he could. If he couldn’t, there were problems in their relationship deeper than any he could fix.

Severus stood still for some moments, as if someone had Immobilized him before he could fire his last spell. Then he turned around and held out his wand so that it was at the level of Draco’s heart, if not aimed there.

Draco stood his ground. It was amazing how steady he felt, how calm. He wouldn’t have had the courage to stand up to Severus like this before Potter came. He would have exploded into anger that would have made Severus discard his opinion, or flinched before the thought of the coming row and never raised the subject.

But Severus had shown that he cared about Draco in some way, even if he only feared that he would be lonely if Draco left. And that meant things could change. They had changed when they slept together. Draco wasn’t foolish enough to imagine that that indicated a permanent change of Severus’s heart, but it was new.

“Are you quite done?” he asked.

Severus lowered his wand and sneered. “By all means,” he said, “tell me why I should not be angry with Potter and the way that he has made a mess of my lab and a mockery of my hospitality.”

Draco surveyed the mess with a careful eye before he responded. “I never said that you should not be angry,” he said. “But you are reacting rashly and without thinking through your own motives.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “Explain,” he demanded.

Draco chose his words with greater care this time. He wanted Severus to listen to him, and that would be the better goal to use his newfound position of power for. Insulting Severus, as fun as it could be, would change nothing.

“The wards that surround your lab should have protected it from Potter,” he said. “Especially the new ones that I watched you put up the other day. Why didn’t they?”

Severus was still for a moment, head bowed, fingers rapping on the wand. Then he said, “They were intended to defeat an unintelligent bird, which at the time I assumed Potter was. I did not have time to change the wards before I discovered the truth and was—called away.”

“That shouldn’t have affected the wards on the door,” Draco said, in the mildest of tones. “Why didn’t they engage? Why did they let him in?”

Severus turned his head and stared balefully at the door as if it were at fault. Draco waited, silently rejoicing. Even Severus had to know that it was no use blaming inanimate objects. He had always insisted that Draco face up to his mistakes instead of exculpating himself with random excuses. Would he have the courage to do the same thing?”

Finally, Severus murmured, “I was in haste. I must have neglected to engage the wards when I stepped out into the corridor.”

Draco thought of making him admit what he had been in haste about, but there was no reason to do so. He simply nodded and said, “Yes, I see. But that means that Potter could not get into a lab that was properly protected. If we bring him back into the house—”

“And why should we do that?” It was Severus’s turn to make his voice soft, the expression on his face dangerous.

Draco spread his hands. “Because we can keep the wards intact around the house and prevent him from escaping if we wish. And because the spell on him represents a great potential discovery, and it will be easier to study if we have him. Think of what we could achieve from him. Besides,” he added delicately, “if he leaves now, he could betray us. Get him back to human and require the Unbreakable Vow, and that will not happen.”

Severus had a sudden heaviness to his stance that had not been there before. Draco knew he was thinking about it. He held his breath and waited.

He wanted Potter back for his own reasons, of course. He wanted to speak with him more about possible reasons for leaving Severus. He wanted the attention of someone who seemed to care about him now, in case Severus started to turn back to his old ways before Draco could establish a foothold in his heart. And it was flattering to have the attention of his old schoolboy enemy, as well as power over him.

Draco had determined that things were going to change. It seemed to him mad now that he had let so many years pass before attempting this—

But he could understand the man he had been a few hours ago, and partially still was, and forgive him. Long years in near-solitude wore one down. Things that his eighteen-year-old self would have indignantly rejected seemed more plausible to his twenty-four-year-old one. And he had clung to the memories of the love he felt and decided that the only way to keep it alive was to remain close to Severus.

Not now. If he should leave, Draco wanted to know why. If he should stay, he wanted to know why. He wanted to keep the energy and anger pulsing through himself alive.

Potter had been the catalyst for it once before. He might serve as that again if Draco started to lose sight of his goals.

Severus must know nothing of that, of course. He had objected to Draco having an independent point-of-view before. But he could be brought around by the temptations Draco had dangled in front of him.

Severus nodded now, his eyes distant. “Very well. We will capture Potter instead of kill him.” He paused and turned that distant stare on Draco. “But I will require your help in cleaning up my lab. And keeping him under control.”

He probably didn’t understand why Draco agreed to that so cheerfully, and Draco didn’t see the point in trying to explain it to him. If Severus’s heart had shrunk that much, he wouldn’t understand it anyway.

If his heart had a lingering ember of a flame still…

Well, Draco would need to blow it alight at a better time.