Chapter 18

Gabby's sleep had been fitful all through the night, and she'd found it impossible to go more than an hour or two at a time without jerking awake, drenched in sweat.

She sighed.

What time is it?

The grey-blue hue of an early winter morning bathed her room in dim light. Her eyes were raw and gummy, and hurt to open. Her breath tasted horrible against her tongue. She was damp, and for a moment feared she'd wet the bed.

Ashamed tears threatened to pool in her eyes, but after a quick sniff test, she determined it was all sweat.

"Ten days, till~ tomorrow," a voice sang, low and male and familiar, from the corner of her room.

She whipped her head in surprise, her stiff neck protesting the abuse.

I wasn't alone?

Harry was sitting at her desk, pajama bottoms and a white tank top his only defense against the cold morning air. He was leaned back in the chair with his feet propped up on her desk, singing under his breath. His eyes were closed.

At least he didn't see me…

"Ten days, till~ she'll wash away, my sorrow. Ten days~"

Wait. That song…

Gabby thought about going to him, but found herself frozen. She was happy to see him, of course. His fight with the dragon had reduced her to tears, and she was still shaken up over it. She desperately wanted to hold him and make sure he was okay. On the other hand…

He's going to hate you, just as soon as he gets his hands on that paper. You've done it again, pretty bird. Ruined another person's life.

Kind mismatched eyes stared at her. Tears gushed, down his face and her own. A thunder crash. Mashed watermelon.

Gabby pushed the memory as deep down as she could. She felt queasy.

"Ten days, till~ she'll come, back here to save me," he sang, and suddenly he was looking at her like he'd been doing it the whole time.

Gabby jumped at the sight of his mismatched eyes.

"Ten days, till~ she drives, me fucking crazy. Ten days~"

Nonono, please, this can't be real!

"Ten days!" he sang, stood up, though she hadn't seen him move. "Till, I blow my fucking brains out! Ten days till I~ die!"

He was looming over her now, impossibly tall and stretched over her bed, like a horrible imitation of a man, more shifting shadow than person. Both his eyes, one blue and one brown, glowered down at her with all the hate in the world. He wasn't singing anymore.

No, please, this isn't Harry. This isn't! I didn't mean to do it! I didn't mean to!

"Mademoiselle," the shadow said, in the distorted voice of a monster. "Don't you remember me, Mademoiselle? Don't you want to be together? Why else would you do this to me? Why else would you kill me? I thought you wanted to be together- I want to, too- really I do- just meee and just youuu! Forever together and together forever, my dear! Have a treat! On the house. It's free. THE FIRST ONE'S ALWAYS FREE!"

The shadow stabbed down at her with a pair of massive dragon claws, goring straight through her paralyzed form and the bed beneath her in a single horrible second. Liquid red exploded everywhere, painting her walls in thick splotches. She chocked, trying to look away from the hateful gaze above, but couldn't move a muscle. She was forced to watch as a great gout of flames built in the shadow's mouth. A second later, she heard the sound of Harry's screams, and the flames rushed forward to engulf her.

With a great lurch that sent her sitting upright, Gabby sucked in the crisp morning air desperately and woke up.

"Gabby?" a voice asked, and she knew it to be Harry's. "Are you okay?"

Nonono!

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, hysterical, scampering away from him as he rose from her desk chair.

"Hey, easy," he said, holding his hands up. "Easy. It's okay, Gabby. It's just me."

His matching green eyes stared at her earnestly.

It's him. It's Harry. It's just Harry. You were dreaming again, pretty bird. Just a dream.

"Harry?" she said, still shaken. She was as soaked as she'd dreamed she was, and a clammy feeling quickly overtook her. She suddenly had the thought that she must look like an absolute mess.

"Yeah, it's me."

Oh, Harry.

She tried to fight it, but tears filled and then spilled from her eyes despite her efforts. She knew he'd hate her when he found out what they'd wrote. She knew he'd be horrified when he learned about her past. But goodness, didn't it feel good to see him, alive and well!

She was starting to sob now. Snot leaked from her nose, and a great swell of helpless embarrassment threatened to swallow her whole.

Harry closed the gap between them in an instant, protectively curling around her damp, weeping body even as it transformed in response to her distress.

Why do these things have to happen to me?

Mismatched eyes, then crushed watermelon.

Because you deserve it.

"Oh, Harry!" she wailed, curling her taloned arms and legs around him desperately. She was so much smaller than him, and fit against his body like a puzzle piece. The dragon, and the article, and her slipping control- it was just too much. She held onto him with everything she had, and cried.

Harry didn't let his own growing distress or bewilderment show, and instead focused on trying to comfort Gabby. He'd had no idea she'd be in this bad a state, and a dark splinter of emotion wedged itself deep in his brain. He should have come sooner.

Gabby remained oblivious to his woes, too wrapped up in her own tumultuous feelings to notice anything. He felt so incredibly good pressed up against her skin and feathers.

Gabby latched onto the feeling like a drowning child.

Slowly, bit by bit, she started to take back control over herself. By the time her sobs had died down to the occasional hitched breath, her face was a wet mess. The shoulder of Harry's school robe was dirty now, too.

More shame slithered and roiled in her belly at the sight, and she squeezed him harder for comfort.

"It's okay, Gabby," he cooed softly into her ear, rubbing tenderly along her back, stroking her feathers through her pajamas.

No. It's not. Nothing's okay, Harry. Don't you see? This won't last.

She sniffled at the thought, and refused to let her grip slacken.

The room was some degree brighter than it had been when she'd first awoken (for real), and Gabby felt personally wronged by time's cruel march forward.

Can't things just stay like this? Why does everything good have to end so quickly? It's not fair…

Gabby buried her face into the damp crook of Harry's neck. It was warm and perfect and she never wanted to leave.

He cupped the back of her head, which was half silky tresses and half downy feathers, and hugged her to him close.

She took a shuddery breath.

You should tell him now.

But why? No, she couldn't.

Yes. You can. It'll only hurt that much worse if he finds out from someone else. Reporters are digging into your past this very moment. What if it makes into one of the inevitable follow-up papers… What will happen then? Do you want him to read something like that?

She didn't, but she still couldn't tell him. It'd be the end of this. She indulged in a tighter embrace.

You have to. Maybe he'll feel sorry enough for you that he won't curse you till he's left. Use your allure to soften the blow.

Never. If an organ was responsible for producing it, instead of her magic, she would have carved it out of herself long ago.

Fine. But you still need to tell him.

I want Maman… I want Papa…

Don't act like a baby- you don't get to after what you did.

SMASHEDWATERMELON

Stop! She didn't want to think about that ever again.

TELL HIM

Gabrielle grit her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. She felt like she was losing her mind. She was torn between what she had to do and what she wanted to do.

She had to tell him. Everything. Whatever happened afterwards…

It'll be okay.

She didn't believe that for a second, but she sucked in a breath to speak, all the same.

"'Arry, z-zere ees something you need to know."

Harry tried to pull away from her so they could look at each other, but Gabby resisted, and he stopped.

She had hooked her chin around the crook of his neck and was savoring his warmth. Burning it into her memory.

Remember this.

She doubted she'd get to feel it again.

"Okay," he said, and Gabby couldn't help but notice the reluctance in his voice.

"W-well," she said, licking her lips. "I'm not sure 'ow to start…"

Harry chuckled nervously. "Is it too cliché to say 'the beginning.'"

Gabrielle tried to laugh, and failed.

Get it over with.

"When I was younger, my mother would take me to the- the Marché- our equal to Diagon Ally- to play while she worked. She owns a bookstore there, and I would help her with this and that while Fleur was at school and Papa worked."

Gabby would have remembered those days fondly, if not for the way they ended.

"On Fridays, as a treat, she would give me a sickle and send me next door. O-one of her school friends ran a sweets shop there, and I'd try something new each week."

Gabrielle's eyes glazed over as she remembered that time.

Mismatched eyes and so much smashed watermelon.

"I-I don't remember it all that well, but Mama tried to explain it to me once, after everybody pretending that nothing had happened didn't work. She said that he… he had a history of mental problems. That he was a 'simple man'. It made him, uh, unusually susceptible, she said, to mind magics…"

Harry shifted in their embrace, and she rushed to continue.

"In our culture, the younger a veela is when they trigger their allure, the more potential they're believed to have. Like I said before: there's a reason I got to tag along with the Beauxbatons group…"

"Gabby that's nothing to-"

"Pease," she said, tears coloring her voice. "Let me finish."

Don't let me finish…

Harry stayed silent.

"R-right, okay. So every week, I would go to his shop, my allure a little bit stronger each time, and before anyone realized what was happening… He'd been driven past- past reason."

She remembered meeting his eyes every time she greeted him, just like she'd been taught. There'd been a hazy, unfocused look in them that grew each time. She should have mentioned it, but never did. It hadn't seemed important. Just another little quirk in a wonderful world.

"H-he, oh God, Harry, he was a good man. He knew I was a veela but he just didn't understand where his feelings were coming from! He didn't understand what that meant, and nobody else had noticed my allure yet. I went to his shop one day, la de f-freaking da, not expecting anything but a muffin and a- and a smile. He must have been really close to losing control of himself that day, b-because he- oh God, Harry, he killed himself right in front of me. Right in front of me! He told me he loved me and that he knew it was wrong and that he wouldn't let anybody hurt me, even himself, and then he blew his head right off his shoulders with a- a bombarda!"

Harry had turned stiff as a board by the time she managed to choke out her story, and she knew it was because he'd recognized her for the wretched cur she was.

Oh but I'm sorry! Doesn't that mean anything at all? I'm sorry, a million times over!

"I'm sorry!"

Harry couldn't move. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Oh, Jesus, that's why! And I- I…

He was dizzy with self-disgust for himself, and great, heavy pity for poor, sweet little Gabrielle.

Not everything is about you.

The thought rang in his ears. He should have stayed with her. He should have made her understand his feelings.

And now, because of what he'd said, passing out at the end of the First Task…

What if they print this?

His eyes hardened.

Gabby's beautiful, half-avian form felt so light and brittle in his arms. Harry was sure that the moment he let go of her, she'd shatter into a million pieces, and so he held her tightly. She'd begun to weep again, and he had no idea how to stop her. He wanted to cry too, but pushed the need aside. Convincing Gabby that he was still there for her was more important right now.

Her petite form clutched at him desperately, and he was remorse to try and pry her away, but he wanted her to see the truth of his words in his eyes.

As soon as he tried to push her back, she started to wail.

"Please, Harry! I said I'm sorry, didn't I? I don't know what else to do. What can you do for something like that? Just tell me what to do!"

Harry felt his throat close as the hot saltiness of tears broke past the dam of his self-control.

She thinks you're mad at her! She thinks you're fucking angry with her!

"G-Gabby, Gabby, please, look at me, will ya? Please, just look at me. Look," he said, blinking harshly to clear his vision. When she reluctantly pried her red-rimmed orbs of blue open and looked at him, Harry made sure to smile. "Hey, now," he said, sniffling. "You're not thinking anything crazy, are you? You know that I'd never blame you for something like that. You know that."

She didn't look like she knew anything of the sort, and that made Harry feel about two inches tall.

He couldn't help the hurt look that flashed across his face. "Well it's true, okay? Whether you know it or you fucking don't. Jesus, don't forget that I too accidentally killed a man!"

Professor Quirrell's death screams still haunted his dreams every once in a while…

You did that on purpose, though. That's even worse, innit?

He ignored the thought and focused on Gabby.

"You don't understand, though," she said, shaking her head. "There's an article-"

"Yeah, I know, and I don't give a flying fuck about that either, Gabby. Let them write their bullshit and see what happens."

"But it's true!" she said, scooting back from his grasp too quickly for him to stop her. "It's all true. They're wrong, but they're right. I have been manipulating you. I really have!"

Lies. Bull-fucking-shit lies.

"No," Harry said, biting back hot, reflexive anger. "Shut the hell up, Gabby. Can you even hear what you're saying? How the hell have you been manipulating me, huh?"

She screwed her hands up and screamed at him. "My allure, Harry! My allure! My allure! Don't you understand? You only like me because I can't keep my allure from making you like me. No matter how hard I try, the second I stop thinking about it, it just leaks out and-"

Shut up!

Harry lashed out and grabbed Gabrielle by her shoulders. He didn't want to hurt her, but his grip was too tight all on its own.

She doesn't believe that. She can't.

He refused to believe it.

She looked at him with wide, wet eyes. He could see so many things swimming around in their depths, and he used them to try and calm himself.

"Gabrielle," he said, and she automatically sat straighter. A distant part of Harry, the incubus part, couldn't help but notice the modest swells of her breasts perk up, nipples pebbled from the tension, clearly visibly through her damp pajamas. "I've got an idea, but I want you to be quiet for a few minutes so I can run through it in my head a few times, okay? Can you do that for me, please?"

Her eyes were wide and oh, so vulnerable, but she nodded all the same.

She really is beautiful. Even like this. No, especially like this.

Her soft, white feathers were immaculate in every way he could think to judge them. Without asking permission, he stroked and pulled lightly at cluster of them that encircled her neck like jewelry.

She twitched and bit her lip, but stayed silent.

"I think we can fix this," he said, eyes staring through her in deep thought. "Clear it all up. There's a way. I know there is."

"'Arry-"

"Wait!" he snapped.

She swallowed hard.

"Just… Just wait a second, okay? This is important. You are important, to me, and I need to make sure this works, so just be quiet for a little longer and I'll prove to you that you're wrong."

Gabby's eyes shown with a treacherous hope that he was right, but then dimmed.

Mere seconds passed before the answer came to him, and he almost smiled.

It really should be just that simple, shouldn't it?

"Yeah, this'll work," he said, removing his hands from her shoulders. "You're not using your allure at all right now, are you?"

"N-no!" she said, shaking her head.

"Good. I believe you."

Without warning, he was suddenly leaning forward, pulling and drawing her into a deep, soul-searing kiss.

She stiffened reflexively at first, but melted like butter against him after just a few seconds.

Harry focused, making sure not to get too swept up in the kiss. He was waiting for something…

Their kiss began to get heated, and he immediately pulled back.

"Your allure is leaking a little bit."

Her eyes widened in horror. "I'm so sorry Harry! This is what I mean!"

He cupped her face firmly. "Listen to me, would ya? I don't give a flying fuck if you let your allure loose. I just pointed it out so I can prove my point here beyond a shadow of a doubt."

She looked confused.

His patience was thinning.

Keep it together. If anything in the entire world is worth it, it's this.

"Just do what I say for the next few minutes, alright? If you can do that, I swear everything will be okay."

She gave the fainted of nods, not looking very convinced.

"Good enough. Now, focus on your allure. Watch it as closely as you can for me. This will hopefully be the last time you ever need to control it around me, but just do your best not to let it flare up, one last time."

Harry steeled himself against the embarrassment and awkwardness that threatened to silence him as he prepared to confess his feelings.

"I like you, Gabrielle," he said. "A lot. In a different way than I've ever liked anybody in my entire life. Different from my prey or my friends or even people I've crushed on before. G-get what I mean?"

A spark of light went off in her eyes.

"I am not saying this because of your veela magic, or because of my incubus magic, or for any other reason than I damn well like you, okay? This is how I feel right now, and I'll be expecting an apology from you when this is all over for- for…" He stumbled, his hurt at the whole situation and his own personal issues choking him up. "For even thinking that my feeling are f-fake. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. So there, explain that away."

Gabby's eyes misted over with dread once again, and she grasped for him.

He caught her hands before they could reach him. "Wait," he said, not letting go. He began interlacing his fingers with hers. "This l-little experiment isn't over yet."

Gabby started to shake her head as she followed Harry's string of logic.

He squeezed her talons and pulled her to him. She was in his lap again, her buttocks resting against his folded legs and groin. Her breasts were at eye level with him.

"Please," he said, looking up at her. "I can… Well, I guess I can't really imagine what it must be like for you." His voice steeled, and there was no room left for disagreement. "What happened to that man was not your fault, Gabrielle. That's the truth, and one day, you'll see that."

She sniffled, and looked away.

"But until then, you're just gonna have to trust me."

Her chin trembled, but she turned back all the same.

"Hit me with it. Your allure. Pour every single thing you have into it."

She looked sick.

Harry fought back his own reluctance to continue as she grew more and more upset. He had to battle back the urge to cave in, to just hold and protect her until someone came looking for them.

This is the only way forward.

She was keening low in her throat and shaking her head, listless with despair.

"I-if you don't," he made himself say, wagering everything he had in a desperate gamble for happiness, "then I'll never speak to you again."

Please God let this work.

Gabrielle froze.

If you don't, then I'll never speak to you again.

How could he say something like that? If he could imagine how she felt about using her allure, even just a little bit, then how could he ever say something like that to her?

She looked down at him unsteadily. Her nipples were inches from his face, and a highly unstable mix of fear, anger, lust, love, and years of pent-up frustration and sadness and loneliness all melted together, somewhere deep inside the purest part of her soul, and hardened into a little black bomb.

She considered defusing it. Burying it. Trying to salvage what she could of her hopes and dreams and happiness and safe, quiet little existence of pretending she wasn't really a veela.

I like you, Gabrielle.

Hell, she thought. I think I like you too.

She let the bomb go off, too tired to stop it.

In an instant, her little room became saturated with the most potent veela allure either of them had ever encountered. Gabby's transformed figure pulsed wave after wave of savage, potent magic, so pure it thickened the air itself and splashed against the walls.

Harry was astonished, and his body reacted on its own. His manhood hardened painfully and his pupils dilated and he took a great whiff of heaven. He could actually feel emotions hidden inside of her allure. He felt his heart lurch at its pain. It was like the magic itself was crying and screaming and laughing all at once, truly unchained for the first time in years.

Gabby felt her fear and anger wash away as a sense of strength and euphoria flooded her veins. Tears leaked from her eyes. All the air in the room was distorted from her magic, like a heatwave over cement.

Her feelings of triumph soured as she felt Harry shift beneath her.

Here it comes. He's an incubus, after all, under my allure. He can't help himself. This is the part where he figures out a way to bed me. I'm going to end up being just another notch in his belt after all.

She tried to find consolation with the thought, but as much lust for Harry as she felt rushing through her veins, deep down, Gabby did not want to have sex with him like this.

She smiled helplessly at the ceiling, shed a pair of tears, and looked down.

I at least want to look him in the eyes while he fucks me.

Her eyes met his and her brain turned off. She gasped. He was breathing heavily, and his nostrils were flared, and his erection was plainly visible through his pants, but…

But his eyes- his beautiful, beautiful eyes- they weren't clouded over at all.

They're not! They're not, they're not, they're really really not!

He was staring up at her with the acuity of a hawk.

"I'm sure there's some old saying out there somewhere," he started to say, very deliberately keeping his hands to himself even as his gaze wandered a bit, "about not trusting the words of a guy with a hard-on."

She blushed and even giggled a bit- completely floored. This was not how the world worked.

He smiled and continued: "But take me at my word, Gabby. The only difference between me a minute ago and right now is that everything I notice about you is a little bit heightened. Simple as that."

Her heart fluttered beneath her breasts.

"It not that I'm having all these crazy thoughts and feeling about you for the first time or anything, it's just that you're naked in all of 'em now. You're naked in a lot of them normally anyway, so you know."

She laughed. She sobbed. She wanted to swat at him. It was like a huge spoonful of the best, bitterest medicine right down her throat. A large part of her wanted to reject his words as false and go on as she'd been, but she just couldn't. They were working on her. She couldn't find even a scrap of falseness in his eyes or words or small, tired smile.

He looked up at her, a tad helplessly, like he'd played his last card and was waiting to see whether he'd won or lost the game.

She wanted him to win.

No. Your allure is evil.

He held her gaze without flinching.

Just wait. Count to a hundred. He'll have you bent over naked by then, all because of the wickedness you've unleashed upon him. Evil creature. Sinful thing.

She counted once, and then again.

Harry didn't move, save to breathe and blink.

You're holding back! Your allure is evil. EVIL.

She strained and focused, and her allure grew in intensity by some small degree.

Harry swallowed, snorted through his nose, and raised an eyebrow at her.

But what about mismatched-eyes-and-smashed-watermelons?!

Maybe it really hadn't been her fault.

Everything is your fault. Everything.

"Gabby," he whispered. "Nothing bad is going to happen. You don't have to worry anymore."

LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE!

Harry wouldn't lie to her.

MURDERER

"Eet wasn't my fault."

YES IT WAS. SLUT. TEMPTRESS. SIREN.

"No," Harry said solemnly. "It wasn't your fault, Gabby."

Grraah! Then why have you been torturing yourself all this time? It HURT to lock your allure up that tight. It hurt. For so long! It hurt. IT HURT! Was all that really for nothing? Are you okay with that?

She considered it. If moving on meant accepting that she'd put herself through hell needlessly…

You don't like that!

No, she didn't. Gabby didn't enjoy feeling like she was wrong one bit. But she'd find a way to live with it. It was worth it. This was worth it.

We'll see.

Gabby supposed that she would.

"Kiss me," Harry whispered.

She looked deep into his eyes, and obeyed.

It was sweet and loving and it filled her soul with warmth.

He pulled away first, and she smiled, tired.

Her gamble had paid off, too.

Hundreds of miles away, deep within a massive, unplottable corpse of trees known best as The Grey Forest, wagers of a different sort were being placed.

A great, brown barn owl sat motionlessly upon a gnarled oak's sole branch. It scanned the forest floor, meticulously searching the bed of dead leaves and twigs for movement.

It ignored the unnaturally still wraith hovering off to the side. Despite its oppressive aura, the owl had delivered numerous letter to it before without issue, and it didn't suspect this time would be any different.

The wraith poured over the unfolded parchment for what must have been the tenth time, its ghostly hands real enough to handle the business of grasping the letter.

Things are happening too quickly.

It scanned its coal-red eyes up and down the letter one more time. In it, tales of unexpected dueling skills, strengthening social ties, and the death of a dragon all filled the wraith with unease.

The plan… Yes. There's no sense in second guessing it. It's time to change tactics.

A rustling so impossibly quiet that not even the owl picked up on it reached the wraith's ears.

Will he be an asset, or an obstacle?

The rustling grew nearer.

It's too threatening to his existence. He'll be in the way.

It had cost him a great deal of energy tracking the locket down, and even more energy still subduing and consuming the bit of him he'd left in it, but all of his efforts were about to be rewarded.

Another rustle sounded out, this time close and loud enough that the great brown barn owl heard it. Its head swiveled impossibly towards it, and a second later, it dove.

The wraith watched as the creature responsible for the rustling, a grey rat, began to spin and bend into the shape of a man.

With great focus and an effort that would leave the wraith feeling drained for days to come, it smothered the rat-man's attempt to transform.

A betrayed cry turned into a squeak, and a second later, the owl was swooping back to the branch it'd been perched upon before, the squirming rat caught between its talons.

The wraith watched on without much interest as the owl ripped and ate at the rat's guts. Some part of it felt grateful towards the bird. It had hated that wretched thing it was goring itself on, and watching it die in agony was almost relaxing.

As a sign of gratitude, and also because the animagus suppression spell had taken more magic than the wraith had to spare, it waited until the bird was finished to hijack its body. It flapped and squawked in a blind panic, but even as tired as it was, the wraith had no trouble possessing the owl.

Flapping its new wings carefully, the wraith-owl climbed up, through the air, till it was a good distance above the treetops and could begin in on its mission.

The taste of rat blood was thick and delicious in Tom Riddle's beak as he began the long and dangerous flight towards Azkaban Prison.