Inside of you, in Spite of you.
"Long day?" Charlie's voice snaps Harry out of his thoughts, running his eyes over the older man who stands in the doorway of their shared room.
Bill and Fleur had taken over the space Charlie used to have, as well as Ron and Hermione for Harry's space. Molly had been trying to convince Harry to move into Ginny's room all day, but he latched onto Charlie's offer of sharing Percy's old room with vigor and hadn't let go yet.
The war was only still just ended, Hogwarts not yet rebuilt, the Weasley brood would soon be scattered to the winds, and Harry had no idea what he would do. "You could say that." Harry sighed, rubbing his head in an effort to soothe his headache. "I love your mom, don't get me wrong, but she really doesn't seem ready to accept me and Ginny will never happen."
Charlie's chuckle brings a smile to Harry's face as the man sits down on the bed across from him. "Yeah, I understand. I don't think she's quite accepted me being gay yet, with Percy's passing she's being a bit more pushy for grandchildren lately."
"You'll be heading back to Romania soon then?" At Charlie's nod Harry smiled ruefully back "I'm surprised you stuck around this long. I was expecting you to pack up and leave the day she cut your hair. Totally uncalled for."
Charlie let out a frustrated sound at the reminder, running his hand through his hair, short hair looking unnatural on him just as it would Bill. "One of these days I'm gonna snap at her, Bill gets away with it now because of Fleur. Even mum has nothing on an angry Veela."
"What's up with that, anyway? Like it's cool, but does it mean something special or something?"
"Yeah, I forgot Hogwarts doesn't teach about creatures anymore. Shapeshifters give decorate their lovers as a way of courting or claiming them." Charlie's collecting his belongings as he explains. "Veela decorate their lovers with hairs and feathers, so mum can't cut his hair while it's decorated."
"Wicked" Charlie laughs.
They fall into a comfortable silence, just the sound of Charlie humming as he folds his clothes for several minutes before Charlie speaks again.
"Any idea what you'll be doing next?" Harry scoffs and scowls at the ceiling before responding.
"No. Ron wants me to come join the aurors. Hermione wants me to pursue the job with the DoM. Molly wants me to marry Ginny. I just want to take some time to breath now that I'm not public enemy number one." Whatever Harry was going to say next escapes him as his entire being tenses, his instincts screaming danger making him leap to his feet and spin to face a startled Charlie, who has frozen where he was standing, having just picked up a familiar silver cloth off the chair where the two had been dumping clean laundry that they hadn't put away yet. "What-?"
Harry feels like he can't breathe as he stares at Charlie, standing tense, muscles having not quite forgotten the strain of war. Charlie's blue eyes are confused as they dart around the room looking for what had set him off, before lighting up with realization as they hit the cloak he'd just picked up. "Oh." Charlie breathes out, finding the answer to his unfinished question.
Charlie steps over slowly, holding out the cloth and setting it gently, reverently, into Harry's accepting hands before taking a small step back and holding his hands up, palms visible. "I'm sorry. I never would've touched it had I known." Charlie's voice sounds distant as Harry tries to remember how to breathe.
Harry looked back up at Charlie, who's still holding his hands out in the calming way. Harry's green eyes are dark with confusion as he holds the cloak closer to his chest. "I- I don't- I didn't-" he can't quite figure out what he's trying to say.
"It's okay, I understand completely. If I'd known what it was I wouldn't have touched it."
Harry stared down at the silvery cloth. "What- what is it?" He looked back up at Charlie. "I've never- felt that before."
Charlie looks confused as he responds "Harry, what do you know about that cloak, or even your family, the Potters, in general?"
Harry shakes his head "I know this is my dad's invisibility cloak, that it's been passed down since the Peverell brothers. I know next to nothing about the Potters other than they were purebloods." The cloak runs through his fingers in a soothing way as Charlie guides him to sit down.
"Oh wow, ok. How am I going to say this?" Charlie lets out a sigh as he runs his hand through his hair again. "It's always been a rumor, but nobody has ever really confirmed it before today."
"Just tell me." Harry snaps, skin feeling prickly at the idea of more information being hidden from him.
"You're a skinwalker." At Harry's gaping face Charlie jumped to explain. "The youngest Peverell brother was said to be the first, a blood curse passed from father to eldest son in the form of a cloth the father would tear in half, and would be rejoined upon the fathers passing. It acted as their second skin, like a selkie, everyone knows the Potters descended from the youngest brother, but it's never been confirmed whether you still carried the curse."
"And, well, what doea that mean for me? Did anyone know? Did Sirius? My father must've been one if I am one-" Harry runs his own hand through his hair, stress evident on his face.
"Come to Romania with me."
Harry gapes at Charlie, words not quite coming to respond.
"Come, relax, escape everyone's expectations, explore this new part of yourself. There's a selkie clan bearby, you can talk and learn from them. Find out if parseltongue works on dragons, or just sit and breathe."
After a minute of watching Charlie for any hesitantance, Harry nods, slowly. "Ok."
It's a month later, after a week straight of letters filled with expectations and demands, Charlie sits outside their tent, tending their campfire on his day off, early in the morning. Watching as Harry pulls the cloak over his shoulders while he sits on his broom, the three entities seem to fold into one small shape. A white King Vulture with killing curse green eyes descends onto the ground beside the fire, bouncing carefully as he figures out how his body moves.
Hours later, Harry sits with a grin bright with laughter and sparkling eyes, a white cloak of feathers on his shoulders melting into his skin until just the regular man remains, relaxed and breathing.