Harry woke up on his birthday, not really remembering what had happened those past few days.
Tom filled him in on the big changes— they had moved in to Sirius' house at Grimmauld Place so that they didn't have to stay at The Leakey Cauldron, and Tom was now, apparently, best friends with Harry's godparents.
He had vague memories of being in pain, Tom holding him, of his godfathers, and a house elf with whiskers coming out of his ears, but they were only snippets.
In fact, he was shocked that he woke up on his birthday feeling completely fine. He felt better than fine— he felt perfect. Tom told him that sometimes (it was rare, but Harry was a rarity) wizards could feel better right before their inheritance.
Obviously, that hadn't happened to Tom.
Even though today was his birthday, it didn't feel like it. Harry loved his uncles' gifts (Sirius got him a jacket charmed to ward off hexes, and Remus got him a new book on Quidditch), but the imminence of his inheritance really ruined the mood.
He was sitting on his bed, basically vibrating with energy. Tom was sitting at his left, absorbed in his book.
"Wanna go for a walk?"
Tom glanced up at Harry from where he rested against the headrest on Harry's bed. "A walk?" He repeated.
Harry nodded. "I haven't had fresh air in a while. C'mon! Get up your lazy arse."
The book was placed on the nightstand before Tom turned fully towards Harry. "How about you rest up before tonight, okay? It's going to take a lot of energy out of you," he said, before kissing the tip of Harry's nose.
The kiss to his nose caused Harry to blush and pout, and Harry took great pleasure in seeing Tom's eyes flicker down to his lips. "But it's only one o'clock! My birth time isn't until five. I'm bored! I'll be bored for the next eternity!"
Tom bit his lip and— fuck, all of a sudden Harry felt hot. "Well, I can think of something we could do in the meantime."
Oh.
Harry smiled in response, his eyes dipping down to Tom's lips. Because of the way Harry had been feeling these past few days, they hadn't had much time to spend time close together. They started to lean in, and—
The door opened. Harry whipped around, temporarily forgetting he was at his godfather's place and was about to yell at whoever the fuck opened the door, but it was Remus.
"Door needs to stay open three inches," he muttered. He seemed embarrassed to have walked into the room when his godson and his boyfriend were about to kiss, because his cheeks were a bright red. "Just... yeah, door stays open, love you."
With that, he rushed off, and all Harry could hear was Sirius' cackling.
Well, that moment was ruined. Harry sighed and fell back against the bed, slightly annoyed. He turned to look at Tom to see his reaction, but he was just staring at the opened door.
"Do you... do you think they hate me now?"
Harry frowned. "What? They love you. When Uncle Remus said 'love you' just then, I'm pretty sure he was talking to you, not me," he said, slightly joking.
"But I... they barely know me, and I—" he shivered. "They must think I'm—"
"Tom, they'd be hypocrites," Harry said. He grabbed Tom's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sure Uncle Remus is just as mortified by this situation as you are. They love you already, and they've only known you for a few days," he emphasized.
That seemed to calm Tom down, because his shoulders slumped and he finally tore his gaze away from the door and towards Harry. He brought his hand up and cupped Harry's cheek.
"You're right." Tom said. "Of course you are. I just... don't want your godparents to not like me. I don't care about anyone else, but you're different."
Harry blushed and nuzzled his face into the palm of Tom's hand.
There were steps approaching the door all of a sudden, and Harry reluctantly turned around to see Sirius now standing in front of the slightly ajar door.
Sirius made eye contact with Harry, winked, mouthed 'happy birthday', then closed the door.
Harry hid his face in his hands. "Bloody hell, how was that somehow worse?"
—
In the end, Harry ended up convincing Tom to go for a walk. It was two o'clock and, with slightly swollen lips, Harry was packing his bag to go to Diagon Alley.
"I have no idea how you managed to convince me to go out today, of all days," Tom sighed. "It's like I can't say no to you."
"It's because you can't say no to me."
"I don't like that you're aware of that, darling."
Harry snorted and leaned up to press a kiss to Tom's lips, causing his face to soften. "It's fine. We won't be gone for too long. I just feel so pent up, I'd like a little fresh air."
"Fine," Tom said. "Are you done packing?... What are you packing, anyways?"
"My invisibility cloak and some money. Might wanna do some snooping. And yes, I'm done."
"Okay," Tom said, not even questioning the 'snooping'. "We should ask your godparents, hmm?"
Harry grabbed hold of Tom's hand and practically dragged him into the living room, where Harry's uncles were watching some Muggle show on their tv.
"Hey, can me and Tom go to Diagon Alley?" Harry asked.
Remus looked at them, eyebrows furrowed. "Today? Isn't today, you know, not the best day for that stuff?"
"I feel fine!" Harry defended himself. "Best I've ever felt. And we'll be back, at the latest, four o'clock. Then we can get ready, or whatever. Please?"
Remus looked at Sirius.
"Sounds fine to me," Sirius said. "But if I hear about you being in pain and not coming back because you're too proud to say anything about it or some shit, I'll have your head on a plate for dinner and serve it to the ghost of my dead mother. And I hate her, so doing that would bring me no joy. Got it?"
Harry nodded. "Understood, Uncle Padfoot."
With that, they Apparated away.
—
Harry was happily walking around Diagon Alley, window shopping. It had been around a half an hour since they got there, and Tom had left him so that he could get Harry a birthday gift.
"I was going to get you one while I was at The Leakey Cauldron," Tom had explained, "but you came before I got the chance. Then you started to feel your inheritance coming in, and... I didn't want to leave you alone for too long."
And, even though Harry had tried to explain to Tom that he didn't need a birthday gift, Tom insisted.
Harry was honestly happy to walk around for a little while by himself, though. It felt freeing, after so long in the same room, basically drenching his sheets with tears and sweat. It was refreshing, even though it was hot as balls outside.
He hummed as he walked from store to store. It was a little busier than when he and Tom came here to get Harry's inheritance test done at Gringotts, but definitely not as busy as it would be in a week or two for back to school shopping. The sound of everyone bustling about made Harry feel warm inside.
Kicking a rock, Harry walked past a random alley— not Knockturn, Harry quickly checked. Tom had told him to avoid it unless he was there with him.
Looking over, he noticed two wizards in the middle having a heated conversation with each other. Raising a brow, Harry looked left and right. No one seemed to notice them, but Harry was definitely interested.
So, Harry did something that would probably piss Tom off when he inevitably found out.
He put on his invisibility coat quickly and ducked into the alley.
"... Listen, I don't want to be a professor!" One of the men said. "My talents lie elsewhere."
"You'd be perfect for the position," the other said. "Dumbledore himself recommended you."
Harry frowned. What? They must be talking about Hogwarts. But Harry had never seen either man. If this was a job interview, and it looked like it was, it was pretty fucking shady.
"Well, of course he would," the first man said. His back straightened, and he looked like he was preening in the attention. Harry almost gagged. "But, I fear, you couldn't pay me enough to teach children."
"You're to have a purpose."
"Yeah. A teacher teaches. That's their purpose. What are you talking about, are you daft? Can you not take no for an answer?"
Ooh, Harry knew this was about to get interesting— well, more interesting that it currently was. He still had no idea what was going on, but he could process this later.
The second man whipped out his wand, and the first matched his stance. And, well, Harry thought that was a bit much. Seriously, a due because of a simple disagreement? Still, it had good entertainment value.
"I warn you," the first man said, "I'm quite skilled in my obliviate."
The fuck is an obliviate supposed to do in this situation? Harry thought to himself.
"You're to have a purpose," the second wizard murmured again.
He's a fucking creep, Harry thought to himself. Both of them are.
There was a moment of silence, other than the slight bustling of the people in Diagon Alley. Then, the first spell was cast— it was from the second wizard's wand. The first wizard didn't even have time to open his mouth.
Harry expected... he wasn't sure. What he wasn't expecting was for the first man to just give up and put his wand down, losing his defensive stance.
Huh. Boring. Where'd that come from?
At once, both men raised their wands and, when Harry got excited for a round two, they Apparated away.
Harry just stood there for a moment. What had he just witnessed? That couldn't have been a normal job interview, even for a position at a place like Hogwarts. He supposed it could have been another school other than Hogwarts, but... no, it had to be. Dumbledore was mentioned.
Why did he care? Eh, it seemed weird. And, given the information about the stolen cloak from Gringotts, he should probably keep an eye on anything weird in relation to Dumbledore
(A/N: Harry gotta keep an eye out for Selener)
He shrugged off his cloak, stuffing it into his bag. Harry could feel a slight twinge starting in his temples, and knew it was time to find Tom.
... Shit. Where was Tom?
"If I were a hormonal and slightly emotionally challenged Slytherin boy who only cares about Harry Potter and snakes, where would I be?" Harry mumbled to himself.
His eyes drifted to the bookstore. Found him.
He shuffled around the shoppers and made his way to the bookstore. Harry wasn't completely sure where anything was, or where Tom would most likely be, but... if he just walked around, he should find him... right?
What if he started screaming Marco Polo?
Harry looked at the books when he was walking past them. There were a few very large books (seriously, only 'Mione could ever finish that) and some small ones (see, some that are actually worth that amount of money).
He kept skimming past them until he found one that caught his attention. It was on the dark arts and— if Harry were being completely honest, he forgot that that was a thing. Sure, DADA was his favourite class, but he didn't really think about the 'dark arts' aspect of the class.
Lights go brr and cause some damage and it excited Harry. That's what was so good about DADA.
He hummed as he picked it up. It was a solid black book, probably about 400 pages long. It seemed to vibrate with power in Harry's hands, but the cover itself was a soft velvet.
"Boo."
"Oh, fuck!" Harry screeched, jumping around to see Tom, who was silently laughing at him. He pouted. "Shut up, I wasn't scared!"
"Of course not, my love." Tom relented, still smiling. "Did you find anything? What are you..."
Tom looked down at the book in Harry's hands.
"Oh, it's just something I found," Harry shrugged it off. "I gotta—"
"Since when have you been interested in the dark arts?" Tom cut him off, his voice an octave higher than it usually was.
Harry shrugged. "I just thought that the book looked cool. Do you—"
"You don't hate it?"
Harry blinked. What kind of question was that? Between Sirius, the two men in the alley, and this conversation, everyone was acting strange today.
Well, the Sirius thing wasn't exactly strange, he supposed— if anyone did that, it would be him. And Harry was also supposed to grow wings in about two hours, so...
"To be honest, I don't really know what it is," Harry admitted. "The book cover looks cool? I dunno. Why do you care?"
Tom stayed silent, and instead took the book from Harry's hands. He looked at the description on the back, then at the chapter titles, then skimmed through the book. Harry wasn't sure what he was doing, but Tom seemed so serious that he didn't want to interrupt.
Finally, he closed the book. "I'll pay for it," he said, before walking off.
"Wait, what?" Harry basically shouted, following Tom and trying to keep up. "Slow down! How do you know I even want to get it?"
Tom stopped suddenly, almost causing Harry to crash into his back. "Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want the book?"
Harry thought about it. It wasn't life or death, so he wasn't sure why Tom was acting like it was.
"I mean, if you'll pay for it, sure," Harry said, jokingly.
Tom didn't seem to sense the joke, and stormed up to the cashier, ready to pay.
Harry just stared. What was in the water today?
Eh. At least Hermione would be proud of him for getting a book. He knew his owl telling her he got a book would be an early Yule and birthday gift for her.
As he watched Tom pay, he got a sudden twinge in his right shoulder blade, causing his right side to drop. He righted himself almost immediately, but it just reminded him of the fact that they had to get home soon.
Tom paid and they walked out, holding hands. The Slytherin had slipped the book into a bag that Harry hadn't even realized that he had been carrying.
"Can we go back to Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked. "My headache's starting to come back and my shoulder just gave out."
Tom nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to Harry's forehead. "Hmm... you're burning up," he murmured. "Yeah, let's go."
He grabbed hold of Harry's waist, Apparating them away— which made Harry's headache much worse than before. When they appeared in Harry's bedroom, he brought his fingers up to his temples and rubbed in circles.
"Fuck, I hate that," Harry mumbled. "I don't even think I'll learn how to do it, I'll just travel via broomstick."
"Sorry," Tom apologized. "C'mon, lie down."
Harry looked at the bed, then at Tom, then back at the bed again. Smirking, he walked over and plopped down on the bed. "If you wanted me in bed, you should have just asked."
Tom chocked on his spit, and Harry felt some sort of vindictive pleasure at being a pain in his ass.
"Hey, listen, I have to tell you something that happened at Diagon Alley right before I found you," Harry said. He patted the bed in front of him. "Sit down."
Promptly, Tom sat down on Harry's bed, so that they were right across from each other. He grabbed Harry's shin. "Are you okay?" He asked. "It's... nothing bad, right?"
"Nah, I don't think so," Harry said. "Besides, I'd like to think I'm more than capable of dealing with shit. Highest mark in DADA."
"You're never going to let me forget that you have the highest mark in DADA and not me, will you?"
"Not a chance, hot stuff."
"... I'll live to accept it. Now, tell me what happened."
Harry explained the two men in the alleyway.
Tom closed his eyes. "You followed two strangers into an alleyway?"
"Uh, they couldn't see me."
"Harry, darling, you're going to give me premature grey hairs."
"I was completely safe! I didn't get too close and I wore my cloak. They were too focused on their argument to notice me, anyways."
Tom hummed. "Fine. The argument itself is... interesting. Do you think if you saw them again, you'd be able to recognize them?"
Harry thought for a moment, before nodding. "Yup. Hell, I could probably know the first guy from his smell— too much cologne." He said, scrunching up his nose.
"We'll keep an eye out during school, then. The whole 'purpose' situation is a bit... suspicious. And Dumbledore being behind it could link this to your other cloak."
Harry frowned. "Okay, but what do we look for?"
"I think the first guy got hit with the imperius curse, which is why he went so willingly after only getting hit by one spell. Of course, we wouldn't know until we saw his eyes— they'd be clouded over, like cataracts."
"That's all?"
Tom sighed. "That's really all we can do. Other than that, there's not much that can affect us. Even though it's weird, let's just move on, mmkay? I'll go get you some water."
With that, Tom leaned over and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, muttering about he'd gotten slightly warmer, and left the bedroom.
Harry smiled at the kiss, watching with warm eyes as his boyfriend left. Then, a thought occured.
"Shit, I still haven't told Pads and Moony about the Gringotts theft!"
—
A few hours later, Harry was really fucking nervous. It was almost five o'clock, which meant that his inheritance was just moments away. And he didn't have a shirt on! And it wasn't for anything fun!
It seemed like Tom was more worried than Harry was. Every two seconds, he would ask Harry questions— how he felt, if Tom could do anything, if he needed more water— and Harry could only listen to that so much.
"Merlin, Tom, I'm fine," Harry sighed, eyes squeezed shut. "If I need anything, I'll ask. You can stop tearing holes in the floor, though, that'd be nice."
At that, Tom stopped pacing. Harry didn't even need to look at him to know that he looked sheepish.
"I'm just worried," Tom admitted. "I have no idea what to do when it starts."
"I have an idea."
"Really? What?"
"Let me be in pain. In peace."
"That's not a plan," Tom scowled, resuming his pacing. Oh, well, he had stopped at least for a little while. "I need to do something."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, you need to calm down."
"How are you so calm?"
"Because I know the pain's not permanent, I suppose. I mean, I'm shitting my pants over here, but what can I do? This has to happen. It'll be over soon."
Tom took a deep breath and settled on the edge of Harry's bed. "You're right." He casted a tempus and saw that it was 4:59pm. "Oh, fuck."
"It's fine," Harry said, his voice going up an octave. "You said it wasn't that bad... right?"
Tom's face whitened. "It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life."
"Oh. Well, I'm sure it was a short list. You haven't gotten hurt that much... right?"
"Harry, hold my hand. I want you to squeeze as hard as you think you have to."
"...Fuck, Tom, there's no way I'm only finding out now that this was the worst pain you've ever felt! I have, like, ten seconds left!"
Tom didn't say anything, but kneeled in front of Harry and took hold of his hand. With bated breath, he casted another tempus.
It was 5:01pm.
"Huh," Harry said. "That was anticlimactic. Do I have wings yet?"
"Were you not born at five?"
"I was told I was. I guess it's sometime around five?"
"What happens if we were in Diagon Alley when you had your inheritance because we had no idea when your birth time is?"
"Uh... I'd suffer, I wager..."
"Bloody hell..."
"Hey, look on the bright side, my headache's starting to go away." Harry said, starting to frown. "Actually, now that I think about it, all of my pain is gone. Is that normal?"
Tom's eyes widened. "Shit. Harry, get ready—"
"The pain's gone, though—"
"Yeah, everyone has a lull right before it happens. I did, too. Just— just relax, okay, my love? It's going to happen soon."
"Well, that's just rude. Why give us hope? I—"
Harry paused. All of a sudden, he felt a tightening in between his shoulder blades, causing his shoulders to pull back towards each other, cramping up.
"Fuck, that was fast," Harry winced. "Okay, okay, I'm ready, let's do this."
Harry shouldn't've said that.
Immediately, pain flared up in his entire body. His mind turned off as all he could do was scream as wings started to push out of his back, stretching and tearing his skin.
There was screaming, so much screaming, but Harry didn't know if it was even him screaming. He felt himself being pushed over onto to stomach, but he could barely register how.
The pain seemed to go on forever. Just as Harry thought the wings on his back were the only things that would be changing, he felt his fangs start to grow in his mouth.
All he could do was writhe back and forth, trying to get rid of what was hurting him. Everywhere hurt, but his shoulder blades and fangs felt like hellfire.
The pain started to die down, little by little, until Harry could stop screaming and instead just sob into his pillow.
Then, the pain stopped, and even though Harry wasn't hurting anymore, his muscles were more sore than they had ever been in his life.
"—ry? Harry? Harry?"
Harry wasn't sure if he could talk, but he grunted to show that he was listening.
"Hey, darling. You did great. Really squeezed my hand tight there, I'm glad. Really.. really tight. I... shit, there's blood everywhere. Can one of you scourgify the blood away? Especially what's on his wings, he's probably too sore to clean them any other way."
Someone mumbled a scourgify, but Harry couldn't make out who it was. He felt his brain go fuzzy.
"You have stunning wings, my love."
"Those have got to be the largest wings that I've ever seen! And I drink a lot of red bull."
"Thank you for that, Sirius."
"Yup, anytime."
Harry hummed. " 'M tired."
"You're tired? Take a nap, hmm? I'm sure you're exhausted."
And Harry was out like a light.
—
When Harry woke up, it was completely dark outside, so it must have been late.
He raised his head, groaning quietly at the crick in his neck from laying down in an awkward position. Harry wondered why he slept like that, but then he heard the sound of wings flapping.
No fucking way.
Harry shot up, having no idea what his wing span was, and ended up knocking over a picture on a table on one side of the room. Wincing, he tried to tilt his wings down (tried being the keyword— he had absolutely no clue how to work those things) to get to the ensuite bathroom.
He flicked on the lights and side walked into the bathroom, still trying to keep the wings from touching anything because they were still sore. Thank fuck all of the rooms are way too big for their own good, Harry thought to himself idly.
Harry blinked as he looked into the mirror, eyes trained on his wings. Fuck, they were huge! His wingspan was probably fifteen feet which, for a veela, is pretty large. They were a pure white, which was common among veela, but fuck, they were huge.
Then, Harry's eyes trailed to his body.
Merlin, was that even him?
The first thing he noticed was his chest area. His skin looked smoother than before, more bronze, and (thank you, Quidditch) he had more of a taught body than before, with some light muscles.
His hair, which was always shaggy especially after just waking up, seemed messy with a purpose, somehow. It seemed to glisten in the light (sweat or veela?) and looked endearingly ruffled.
His face... fuck, that changed.
His eyebrows were trimmed and symmetrical. Long eyelashes framed his eyes, and he was pretty sure they were twice as thick than before.
Harry's eyes were still unchanged, the green of his mother. They seemed to sparkle a bit more— but that was maybe because of how tired he was.
His lips were a pouty peach, he now had freckles dotting his cheeks, and his cheekbones and jawline were sharper.
Overall... he looked like a better version of himself.
'I wonder what Tom'll think of this in the morning,' Harry thought to himself, turning off the lights and crawling into bed again. 'I'm pretty sure he didn't see my face when it was smashed into the pillow earlier.'
He wasn't sure how to retract his wings or fangs, so he just opted to sleeping with them.
Merlin, his neck was going to hate him in the morning.