Chapter Fifteen of 'Fairest Creatures'- Places in the Dance
Chapter Fourteen.
Title: Fairest Creatures (15/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, one-sided Harry/others
Warnings: Creature fic (Veela), ridiculousness
Rating: R
Summary: Of course, Harry would be the only person in wizarding history to get turned into a Veela by a chain of coincidences and then compelled to attend Veela finishing school to learn about his new powers. And the only one of those who has to get instructed by Draco Malfoy, for that matter. Who does not look any better with wings.
Author’s Notes: I came up with this idea a little while ago and tried to get it to stop being ridiculous. It refused. In fact, it gathered more ridiculousness to itself. Therefore, I decided to write it before it got so ridiculous that it made my head explode. This will be updated on Sundays. The title is from William Shakespeare’s first sonnet: “From fairest creatures we desire increase,/ That thereby beauty’s rose might never die.”
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Fifteen-Places in the Dance
“What weapons have you chosen?”
Harry faced Testig across a wide-sweeping garden of blue flowers-ranks and ranks and ranks of blue flowers, all nodding along with the wind. He couldn’t really understand why Veela thought a duel was best fought in the middle of a garden of blue flowers, but then, he had accepted that he didn’t understand why Veela did a lot of things.
“My wings,” said Testig. “My claws. Veela magic.” She smiled and extended her wings, banging them up and down as if she wanted the audience to admire their length.
In the middle of the garden, on a stone circle that was the only place bare of flowers, stood Professor Grunnell. Harry crouched on one wall, and Testig on the other. At first Harry had been baffled why the flowers filled all the space, but then he had seen Grunnell soar to the circle, and he’d understood. The garden was only meant to be entered by people who could fly.
By Veela, Testig would probably say. Because humans are so different and inferior, and she doesn’t think Veela are people in the same way, but a better way.
Harry raised his head. Testig was staring at him with her hands curved forwards, as if she couldn’t wait for her talons to appear. Harry thought she would probably either fly straight at him or leap off the wall and try to get above him.
Grunnell nodded and turned to face Harry. “And what ground have you chosen, Mr. Potter?”
There was a slight emphasis on “ground” that made Harry grin. They probably expected him to insist that they fight without flying. That would take away the power of Testig’s wings and the advantage she had over him because she was a Veela more experienced in flying.
“The air, of course,” Harry said casually. “Aren’t we Veela? Aren’t we supposed to delight in flying?” He reached out and stroked his hands casually down the wall beside him, then added over the sound of the spectators murmuring, “But I don’t intend to be lonely up in the sky. I’ve chosen my addition. And Professor Testig is welcome to choose any additions she likes.”
He scooped up the broom that he’d stopped by his quarters to get, and casually hopped onto it. The murmuring sounded now as though seven or ten hives of bees had been let loose among the flowers.
“If you have a broom, then how can you use your wings in the way the rules of the contest dictate?” Grunnell took a step towards him as if she was really interested in hearing Harry’s answer.
“Oh, I intend to use them as weapons if Professor Testig comes too close,” said Harry, and beamed at her. “I never said I could use my wand. But my broom comes with me. It’s the addition I want.” He turned and gave a little bow to Grunnell. “My mate told me that you were going to announce when the duel began. Could you do that? There were a few other things I wanted to do today.”
Testig made a rattling, hissing noise that Harry imagined was the way a growl would sound if translated through a bird’s beak. He ignored her to beam amiably at Grunnell. She could do whatever she wanted. Harry didn’t intend to play by the stupid rules the Veela had set up, while still staying within them so she couldn’t accuse him of cheating.
“Yes, well.” Grunnell looked as if she didn’t know who to cheer for. She turned and held out her wings, though, flaring them back and forth and bouncing silver light from them. “The duel will begin on the count of three, and continue until first blood is shed.”
Harry saw the way Testig’s hands tightened on the stones of the wall. She probably intended to use her wings first, to hit him and hurt him without drawing blood.
Harry looked benignly back at her. He had his own plans as far as that was concerned.
“One!” Grunnell chanted, and other voices took up the count with her. Harry could see Draco standing among the crowd below, staring anxiously up at him. Harry winked and tilted his head back to estimate the angle of the sun. Yes, he thought he could rise into it easily.
“Two!” Now half the crowd was shouting along, and Testig’s wings had unfolded to their full extent, trembling.
“Three!”
Testig sprang with a screech. The air seemed to blur around her, and a second later, Harry realized she wasn’t the only one flying at him. From somewhere, she’d summoned swans, enormous white birds with wings only slightly smaller than hers, and they looked as if they were going to converge on him and herd him like Bludgers.
Unluckily for Testig and her birds, he’d had a lot of practice playing Quidditch.
Harry whirled to the side and watched as the first two swans missed him. They could turn in the air, but not fast enough to catch up with him when he did that. Then Harry turned and flew up as high and hard as he could, aiming for the sun so he would be harder to see when he dived out of it.
Testig left the swans behind as she soared after him. Harry heard the shutting and opening of her wings, like great scissors slicing the air, and he smiled over his shoulder and waited until he saw her aiming her left wing. She would pass close to him, and try to club him over the head and shoulders with it.
She hadn’t transformed her hands into claws. That confirmed Harry’s suspicion that she didn’t want to draw blood quickly and end the duel.
Harry turned so hard to the side that he heard something pop in his neck. But he proved his point. Testig missed him, and then had to pinwheel and drop because she’d had her wing aimed and cocked instead of flapping it. For a minute, she was stretched out beneath him, vulnerable, her wings beating forwards and shielding her head and arms against the assault she probably expected him to make.
Harry ducked down, aimed his broom in precisely the right way, and kicked her in the arse with his right foot.
Testig went pinwheeling even further down. Harry shot back up again and did a little celebratory dance through the sky, with his wings mainly beating to slow down the broom’s flight a little and make him look more “majestic” to the crowd gaping from below.
Let’s remind them that Veela aren’t the only ones who can fly. And do it well!
Harry flapped once more and let himself dangle from the broom by one hand. He could see a flash of wings from below at that-probably Draco-and then a few other people holding the one who had wing-flashed back. Well, Draco was the one who knew the rules. Harry would have to count on him not interfering, either because of his own will or someone else’s.
Testig’s swans were flying towards him again. This time, they had spread out in a wave, and it was going to be a lot harder to avoid them. While Harry was dealing with two of them, the others could swing in behind him and clip him on the head with a wing.
Well, that would be what happened if I intended to stay still and wait for them to hit me.
But he didn’t, and Harry proved it by swinging on his broom one more time and then letting go, soaring towards the swans.
The nearest one sheared away from him. Harry was now confronting one that snapped and hissed at him, beak open so he was staring down its throat. Harry grabbed its neck and choked it for a second, hanging down beneath it as it frantically flapped to save itself.
By the time he let it go, it was no more interested in fighting than the one soaring beneath him towards the garden was.
The other two swans had peeled away and then proceeded to attack from opposite sides. Harry leaped out from between them, landed on his broom, and spiraled down to kick one of the swans in the arse. That one gave up, too, or at least its frantic flight away from him seemed to suggest that.
The other one was either stronger, braver, or more loyal to Testig. It had one wing poised to deliver the kind of blow that Harry thought Testig had intended to use on him, and it didn’t look as though it was going to fall when it tried to hit him, either, the way Harry had assumed the others would.
Harry let loose with the same harsh shriek that had stunned Draco when they fell off the cliff.
It didn’t seem to have the same effect on swans that it did on Veela, but it did startle this one and spoil its attack. It had to fly over him instead of trying to hit him, and then it was gathering strength and speed away from him instead of towards him.
Harry looked around in a leisurely way for Testig. She was hanging about ten meters beneath him, hacking like she had something stuck in her throat. Harry smiled. “Shriek hurt you?” he called down.
Testig stayed still long enough that Harry nearly went and checked on her. But he reminded himself that this was a duel, and she was far likelier to play some kind of trick on him than really be in need of his concern. So he stayed where he was.
Testig abruptly unfurled her wings and came at him so fast that she’d covered a third of the distance before Harry could start reacting. And then she swung her hand forwards and conjured another swan right in between her and Harry’s broom.
All right, this is going to be tricky…
Harry clamped his legs on the broom, pulled in his wings so hard that he sagged, and dived to the side. The swan’s wings still shook near his head, passing more closely than a lot of Bludgers had during Quidditch games. And Testig was still coming, hands outstretched now and turned into claws. Apparently she cornered better than a swan.
Harry wasn’t sure she would stop at first blood, either.
He barrel-rolled in front of her and fled, rising up and down in jagged patterns, and sometimes straight-climbing the way a Firebolt was better than any other broom at doing. Harry knew there were better brooms on the market now, faster ones, but he’d still refused to buy any other broom than a Firebolt when he chose one after the war.
This, the ability to speed straight up at the clouds and not lose any speed when he did so, was one of the reasons why.
Testig was still screeching and hissing behind him, although no longer so close. Harry turned, flew level for a second to let her catch up-and let Draco see he was okay-and then turned and straightened his shoulders.
Let’s hope the new weight of my wings won’t throw this off too much.
When Harry entered the dive of the Wronski Feint, the ground seemed like a patch of blue and grey and white, so far away as to be unimportant. And then it started speeding up towards him, and voices sounded in alarmed shrieks, and Veela dived out of the way. Harry laughed under his breath and got ready to pull up.
Then something slammed into him from the side.
Another bloody swan, Harry thought, as he tumbled and lost height and speed at the same second. The swan’s wing had hit him in the head this time, the strike he thought most of them had been aiming for, and his sight was blurry.
He did see wings straining down below, Draco getting ready to fly to his rescue, and being held back by multiple professors.
Harry shook his head. This was no worse than some of the hits he had taken in other Quidditch games, or while chasing criminals. He turned and flew back towards Testig, who had climbed until she was above him, silhouetted against the sun, in the position he had hoped to be in.
It didn’t matter. Harry still had no intention of losing this duel.
When Testig began her dive, Harry rose to meet her. He saw how fast she came, and knew what the shock would be when they clashed.
Someone else did, too. From the choking and shrieking and fluttering below, the professors were having to hold Draco back again.
It doesn’t matter. Testig had almost reached the halfway point between her original position and his. Harry was close enough now that he could see her hair flying behind her and her spread claws. She had finally changed her hands fully into talons. He reckoned she wanted to shed some blood and didn’t care anymore if that would bring about the end of the duel.
Good, Harry thought, and tightened his hold on the broom. There was no way to turn aside from the crash, not now. The most they could hope for was to strike each other glancingly.
As they came up to each other, Testig did turn a little to the side. Her left hand shot out, towards his ribs, while her left wing lifted and came down in one swift motion. She was trying to stab him through the side and clobber him over the head at the same time.
How efficient, Harry thought in something close to admiration as he lay close to the broom, taking the blow of her wing on his shoulders. It hurt, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she missed him with her claws, just catching the outer edge of his robe and fraying some of the cloth. Nothing that couldn’t be mended with a simple charm.
Testig gave a violent hiss and started to turn to the side, in the beginning of a corkscrew spiral that would carry her away from him.
But that meant she was in the perfect position for Harry to get the boot in-literally. He poised his foot and then kicked so hard he felt an ache blossom in his leg at once.
It had been worth it, though. Because Testig had turned into a place that left her wing vulnerable. Far louder than he heard even her cry of pain, he heard one of the delicate bones in the outer edge of her wing breaking.
Testig’s wings drooped, and she began to fly towards the stone circle Grunnell had stood on to announce the beginning of the duel. Harry stooped after her, feeling like a hawk on the wing for all that his wings were tucked closely to his sides and he had the broom alone to fly with.
The duel still wasn’t over. Grunnell had said it wouldn’t be until someone drew first blood, and Harry had no idea what the proper proceedings would be for asking someone for a surrender.
He came up behind Testig and kicked her in the arse again. She whipped around as best she could, hissing, but that crooked her wing at an angle that made her shriek again. Now she was whirling around like a leaf tossed by the wind. Harry assumed she was flying more by magic and muscles than feathers at this point.
Harry leaned towards her and caught her wrist. For an instant, he held her gaze, too. Testig was staring at him with eyes so wide that Harry wondered if she had really expected to win the duel.
Even once she saw me on a broom?
But maybe he was being conceited in assuming that everyone knew what a good Quidditch player he was. And the Veela were pretty isolated. She might never have followed any news on him that was less momentous than the news of the war.
“Remember that I outflew you,” he said, in a low voice none of the people cheering and shouting on the ground would be able to hear anyway, “and I did it using human methods.”
Then he jabbed Testig’s claws into her own shoulder.
She shrieked again as the skin tore, but didn’t try to beat him over the head with her wings the way Harry had automatically assumed she would. Maybe it mattered to her, that her left wing was broken, and she didn’t want to make him angrier. She turned away and dropped in that wounded spiral to the ground instead.
Grunnell, and maybe the garden, must have had some spell that would warn them when blood was spilled and someone won. She called up, “Mr. Potter is the victor! Please return to the ground.”
Harry followed on the broom as slowly as he dared. He didn’t want to make Testig into an enemy. If she really obeyed Veela customs, then she should go on teaching him because he was a student and he needed to know the things she taught in order to be a good mate to Draco. And because there was probably a rule, once a fight was over, about not considering the matter settled.
“Honor is satisfied,” Grunnell said loudly as Harry landed on the stone circle, bare of flowers, beside her. “Mr. Potter is the winner of the duel.”
Harry had time for one smile, and one look around to try and see whether Testig was glaring at him, before Draco crashed into him. Harry caught his breath, a little, as one flailing wing hit him on the back of the head where the swan had, but then Draco gripped him and kissed him instead, and that was much more agreeable.
“Never do something like that again,” Draco said, when he finally pulled back and stood in front of Harry with his wings on Harry’s shoulders. “Never. I don’t care how much someone annoys you and how much you want to duel them. All right?”
There is one difference between Veela and human society, Harry thought dazedly. People kissing like this in the middle of the Ministry, or anywhere else, would have been told to stop it, but here, everyone smiled indulgently at them. A few were even applauding.
“All right,” Harry agreed, and leaned in to whisper. “Can I have another kiss as the reward for winning the duel, though?”
Draco’s response was loud, enthusiastic, and unmistakable.
Chapter Sixteen.
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