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Harry wasn't sure why Malfoy was up in the tree, wavering to catch some random piece of fruit amidst large, wide branches. He had left the boy behind, the Slytherin prefect called to deal with other duties. Which was fine, whatever, Harry didn't want the distracting bastard around anyways. Sure, Malfoy probably could have tracked the bloodthirsty beast a hell of a lot faster, having spent months in a forest with his veela brethren, but he was fine on his own and preferred to work alone anyways.
He wasn't sure why he thought Malfoys didn't climb trees... It just seemed like something the Slytherin would say. Sure, Draco could. He was about as athletic as you could get without actually being a jock, his veela heritage having made the blond into a tall, toned slab of pale, sexy prat overnight. He was probably faster too, but Harry didn't think Malfoy could be that fast to get ahead of him in the forest.
The journey had been slow, treacherous and eventful, Harry following the bloodied trail of the unidentified creature that had attacked a small group of first years at the edge of the castle. Remus and Padfoot were searching the East territory, Hagrid plunging deep into the darkest depths with Buckbeak. Harry had gone willing into the West territory, uncaring that he had no backup. Following what he was certain was the creature's powerful, magical aura that had the taint of human energy clinging, Harry had come across the peaceful glade. That Malfoy had gotten ahead of him and up the huge tree just didn't make much sense.
Harry skirted the perimeter of the glade suspiciously. He found the tracks he had been following north, leading a mangled, blood soaked path away. The rogue had not entered the clearing, may not have even seen it. Satisfied that no ambush awaited, Harry silently stepped into the glade and made his way to the base of the towering tree.
Malfoy was reaching precariously for a sapphire colored fruit just beyond his grasp. Fifteen feet above, it was difficult to see his face, but it did seem to look like the blond. His hair was still the same waist length white-blond locks, having grown exponentially when his veela heritage kicked in last summer. It was even in a ponytail, neat and immaculate as always. He was wearing his normal school robes, managing to not have torn or ripped them while Harry's were already slashed from random creatures and thorns. The blond even moved the same as always, grace and agility refined with pure power just underneath the surface. But it wasn't Malfoy. Harry couldn't place what it was that told him, just knew it was something beyond the location and the boy's activities that gave it away.
A frustrated cry broke Harry from his observations. He was just in time to see Malfoy wobbling to catch his balance, his desired fruit now plummeting to the ground. Harry's seeker reflexes caught the fallen fruit, but inadvertently alerted the heedless boy to his presence. It wasn't Malfoy. Not even close.
Harry waited for the creature to climb down, eying the egg shaped fruit absentmindedly. It was such an innate, intimate thing he shouldn't even know. The boy scrambling down the tree did not have the same magical signature that the real Draco Malfoy had. In fact, the being's aura was as foreign as his face was similar.
Harry scowled. Why the fuck had he memorized the prat's magical essence? What fucking good would it be to know that Malfoy's magic tasted cooler, darker, and dripping with sex?
“Thank goodness for you, boy. That was an amazing catch.” The blond jumped down the last few feet, straightening in front of Harry. He was exactly Draco's height, a head taller than Harry, shoulder's wide, jaw angular. “Thought I had lost my dinner for the day. The guardian only allows one fruit for every sunrise...” Harry glared, the stranger falling silent.
That settled it. Malfoy never would have thanked him. He sure as hell wouldn't be looking at him the way the creature was, like he was the meal and not the fruit in his hand. Malfoy wouldn't have the damn guts after all they'd been through. Harry relaxed slightly only because it somehow felt safer to be dealing with a doppelganger of some sort, than the real Draco Malfoy.
“Your guardian beast, is it vicious?” Harry asked, looking around cautiously as he absorbed what the blond had said.
Raising his brow in a very Malfoy like way, the boy shook his head. He took the fruit when Harry handed it to him, smirking secretively. “How many vicious guardian trees have you met, human?”
“Er... none, I suppose,” Harry muttered, looking up at the large tree with new understanding. The glade was safe because the tree protected it, giving off a magical aura. It was the first time he had come across such a tree... It also meant the Malfoy lookalike had to be fairly trustworthy to be allowed in the glade and eating the fruit. “So, if you're calling me human, I have to assume you're not, correct?”
“That would be an astute judgement, yes.” Eyes sliding up Harry's form slowly, the boy grinned wickedly. “Tell me; what do you see when you look at me?”
Harry frowned, not liking the more than interested gaze directed at him. “Don't you know?”
The blond shook his head, hand touching lightly to his features. “My form never changes. But people view me differently. Usually they like what they see, but you have been glaring quite angrily at me. Am I familiar?”
“Yes... very fucking familiar,” Harry grunted, watching as Malfoy's pink tinted fingers began to dig slightly into his pale skin, moving down his long neck and pausing at the collar of his robes. Up close Harry could see they weren't school robes, just enchanted to shift as his eyes fell upon them. The boy's flesh did not shift, not even when the creature began to unzip his robe open.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, wishing he could step back even as his feet remained motionless. Malfoy's eyes weren't glowing silver—That was usually when he recognized the bastard was using his veela powers. But this creature wasn't a veela. Wasn't fucking anything he'd ever heard of.
“I want you to describe me. It's always so interesting to see how the details are perfect. It's my magic, you see,” the boy teased, head tilting as he unhooked the zipper at the bottom. “All enchancubi are born this way. Only our own species can see our true form.”
“Why?” Harry asked, feeling breathless as the boy that looked just like Malfoy began to push his robe off. He wore nothing underneath, revealing pale, luminous flesh and strong, hard muscle. Harry swallowed unsteadily, eyes unwilling roaming over the planes of said muscle and taking in Malfoy's crotch with interest.
“Because we can't feed off of our own, of course,” the blond whispered, taking a step closer, eyes intent on Harry's face. “Tell me how I look. Tell me what you like about it. Tell me what you'd like me to do to you, pretty human.”
“Oh, hell,” Harry gasped, the blond touching his chest and gently pushing him back. He found his heel hitting the base of the tree, his shoulders quickly following. “Stop,” Harry whispered, wishing he sounded more convincing and wasn't staring at the muscles of Malfoy's chest and abs while he said it.
“No. You are far more delectable than that tasteless fruit. I wish to taste you. Will you let me do that? May I taste you, you angry eyed thing?”
Harry shook his head mutely, afraid if he opened his mouth he would have a very different answer. “I... I don't like him. You, uh, look like someone I hate, and I... God, please stop touching me like that while looking like him.” Harry whimpered, the hand that had landed on his shoulder running down his side, sliding up his shirt and pressing to his flesh. It felt like Malfoy, his hands the same strong, slightly rough touch.
“Close your eyes. You don't have to see this face if it bothers you so.” The boy brushed his lips lightly to Harry's ear, his other hand braced on the tree, blocking any thought of escape.
“It does,” Harry insisted, closing his eyes slowly only to open them again, tracing over the blond's handsome features. “I really can't stand him.”
“I can tell.” Harry let his eyes fall shut to block the smug smile from his vision. A thumb pressed to his nipple, circling it, fingers pinching and rolling the sore bud. “You can't stand this face so much, you're determined to bludgeon me with your erection, I think.”
Harry growled, only to groan, a hot palm cupping his traitorous dick through his jeans. “S-Spell... I can feel it.”
“Yes, you have caught me, pretty boy. I have cast a spell on you to drink your passions down. But I cannot control who I look like. That is completely your fault,” the blond taunted, tongue licking out over Harry's lips. “You were smelling of sex the moment I jumped down from the tree. I started my spell long after that.”
Gritting his teeth, Harry let out a sudden, sharp breath. “Fuck, just stop talking.”
“You like this voice. It reminds you of him. What do you like about your boy?”
“Nothing!” Harry hissed, grabbing the hand gripping his hip. “I can't fucking stand him.”
“Come now, I won't tell. It's only us here.” The blond brushed his lips to the corner of Harry's frown. “Even with all your anger, I can feel your need.”
“I don't...” Harry trailed off, the boy grinding forward into his hips with a slow, hard motion. God, he needed. He needed so badly.
“He's strong,” Harry whispered. “I like how strong he is.”
“I can see that.” The blond held Harry tighter, pushing him back harder against the tree. “Like this?”
“Oh fuck, yes.” Harry moaned, head falling back heavily. “He's confident. Never hesitates to—Yes, like that,” he gasped, his t-shirt torn up his torso, hands pulling harshly at his belt while Malfoy's perfect mouth began to lick his nipple with hard, wet strokes of his tongue. Harry shuddered, tangling his fingers into the blond's hair, tearing the binding tie loose so the silky locks brushed against his skin.
“Does he take you, pretty boy?” The boy asked, nipping up Harry's neck, sucking a red welt on his throat, tongue slowly wetting after. “Does he fuck you?”
“Yes, he can't stop. Can't ever stop when he touches me.” Harry pulled the blond closer, hands wrenching at the warm, pale flesh. He opened his eyes, unable to keep them closed any longer, wanting to see Draco when he was touching him.
“He takes you hard?” Harry's belt had finally come undone, his hips rocking forward to meet the fingers unzipping his fly.
“Yes. It's always...” Harry trembled, fingers brushing over his dick through his underwear. “God, he's rough with me. He knows I like when he... he can't stop himself.”
The blond chuckled in Harry's ear, slamming his hips forward, grinding them together, and then quickly tearing Harry's jeans and underwear down. “Who could ever stop when you make such... oh, very needy cries, pretty one? He must fuck you raw every night.”
Harry whimpered, shaking his head fitfully while a hot, strong hand wrapped around his hard cock. “Never.”
“Madness. Look at you, so delicious and tight,” the boy said heatedly, free hand running down Harry's hip, moving back to cup his ass and squeeze hard. “What a crime your boy has committed, ignoring one such as you. Shall I fix it for you?”
Barely able to comprehend the words over the feel of the rhythmic tugs on his dick, Harry nodded weakly.
“Oh, pretty one, shall I fuck you? Do you want me to take you?”
Gasping, Harry bit back another moan. “N-no,” he choked out, body arching on the tree as the hand on his ass began trembling fingers towards his entrance.
“Do you want him to fuck you?” The boy asked instead, smiling wickedly when Harry cried out in reply. “Tell me his name. Tell me the name of the fool who will not have you, my delectable boy.”
“D-Draco,” Harry whispered, something inside of him melting just to say his name while he was held by someone who looked just like Malfoy. Harry pressed closer, palms moving up the blond's sides, fingers dragging in, wrenching closer.
“Open your eyes, beautiful. Open your eyes and watch his face drink you down.” Lips brushed Harry's lightly, the brunette trying to press into the touch, only to have them withdraw. God, he wanted a kiss. A proper, wild kiss where Draco would devour his mouth like before.
Realizing he had again closed his eyes, his mind focused on the sensations running through his body, Harry pried them open. “Oh fuck... Draco you're...” Harry let out a shattered moan, the boy sinking to his knees before him, hot hand replaced with an unimaginably hot mouth and tongue. It wasn't a kiss but it was fucking fine and Harry was not complaining. He watched, gaze transfixed as the blond's lips parted to the head of his cock, slowly engulfing him into wet heat. Pink lips held tight as his dick plunged in, saliva trickling down the corners of Draco's mouth, his tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft.
“That's it,” Harry muttered, fisting the boy's silky hair, fingers twisting tight as he thrust forward into the overwhelming heat. “That's how you like it... On your knees, Malfoy... Fuck... Full of my cock.” Draco's face was flushed, cheeks pink, sweat trickling down his forehead while Harry continued to hold the boy in place and fuck his mouth. Draco opened wider, hot, clear fluid dripping down his chin as he led Harry deeper inside. “Oh hell.”
Harry came with a groan, forcing his eyes to stay open, needing to watch Draco swallow him down, drink everything he gave the boy. He wasn't disappointed, the blond greedily taking everything he had, lips and tongue milking Harry for more before eventually letting his softening length go. Falling back against the tree, Harry heaved for breath, eyes closed as he tried to hang on to the mental image of Draco, lips wrapped around his cock, face twisted in need.
“Delicious. You are the tastiest meal I've had in ages, pretty boy,” the blond said, pulling Harry's pants up, tucking him in and zipping him tight. Standing, he rested both hands on the tree, trapping Harry in place. He breathed the brunette's scent in, sighing deeply. “I have not fed on so much passion—I must thank you, human. Please, you must let me return such a gift.”
Seeing how Harry had just cum, he really didn't think he needed anything else at the moment. Then, as if reality had found a way to creep back into his lust addled mind, he remembered where the hell he was and why he was there.
“I'm seeking something... A beast that attacked my classmates. His trail went by here, heading north.” Harry ran a hand over his face, rubbing his temples as he felt the spell slipping away that he'd been ensnared in.
“You mean the maddened one. I know of it. The creature is deadly and will taint all it touches.” The boy gently removed Harry's hand, running fingers over the brunette's face, lingering on his lower lip. “I will guide you, if you wish. I can lead you to its lair.”
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. The lust spell had slipped away, but he still wanted to kiss the boy badly. “What... What do I call you?” He asked, needing any name just so long as it wasn't Malfoy's.
“I am called Dren, my pretty one. But I will not be upset if you call me by his name.” He ran his palm along Harry's jaw, grasping his cheek, fingers curling against his neck. “Meet me here tomorrow before noon. I will lead you to your monster.”
Harry nodded, making no move to leave, eyes caught on Draco's silver gaze. “Dren, can I kiss you?”
“I tend not to, human. It can ruin the illusion if you've kissed him before.” Dren leaned closer to Harry, lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. “It is such an intimate thing, so unique to each person. And you have kissed your boy. I can tell. He's taken you, pretty one. He's had you hard and you are aching for him.”
Harry just nodded silently, unable to deny it. Eyes running over Draco's features, he felt the familiar pang of regret. “Once. And it will never happen again.”
“Let me give you a gift, pretty one.”
“Harry,” he whispered, finding it difficult to hear Malfoy call him pretty all the time. Draco had called him beautiful once, never pretty.
“Harry, I have a gift. To help you find what you're looking for,” Dren said softly, right before a wave of magic crashed down on Harry. The brunette started, jerking away, eyes wide as he fell to his knees.
“Shit—What did you do? You can't just—You don't just spell people, Dren! It's not right!”
“It is harmless, boy, I promise,” Dren said, helping Harry to his feet.
Harry only glowered, not a fan of being spelled without consent, no matter what he had just done with the boy. Especially since he probably would not have done what he had done if not for a different spell. The damn enchancubus was as bad as the veela. Just fucking taking without ever asking. Without caring that they were faced with a damn person, not just a meal to enjoy.
“I have to get out of here,” Harry muttered, making sure his shirt was pulled down and he hadn't lost anything important while being pawed at. He dusted his knees off as he stood, avoiding the blond's eye. “You're fed, right? I can trust you won't pull any of this shit tomorrow when I return?”
“I will be perfectly behaved. Unless you wish me otherwise,” the blond teased, again reaching for Harry's face as if he were going to caress it. Harry ducked away, scowling.
“Stop it. I can't be distracted tomorrow and I need to focus now and I wish you would just... just stop looking like him.” Grumbling, Harry checked again to make sure he had his wand still tucked away in his tattered robes. “I will meet you mid-morning. Be ready.”
“I will be, but understand I do not battle, pretty Harry. I am not a warrior no matter how I may appear.”
Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he wasn't. No, Dren was the other kind of predator that wove spells and enchantments to manipulate his prey right into his lap. And if it hadn't been sex—if it had been blood or flesh—Harry probably would have killed the arrogant thing. But it had been sex, and with a particular Slytherin, and Harry had not been willing to pass that up no matter how bad an idea it was. Sex with Malfoy equaled death. The last time, seventeen deaths, to be exact. This was certainly a safer compromise.
Harry left without another word, stalking forward into the dangerous forest with his wand drawn. He was in a fighting mood and there was plenty on the way back to the castle to terrorize.
Night had fallen and Harry was exhausted by the time he got back to the castle. He had owled his report to Sirius, unwilling to search for his godfather and actually have to talk. He was hungry, he was tired, and he was feeling fucked up in the head. Limping slowly, Harry made his way to the Great Hall where he could hear the distant roar of students. He had made it just in time for dinner, and after eating he was planning on bed.
Grimacing in pain, Harry tucked his damaged left arm closer to his body to keep from bleeding all over the floor and made his way towards a well deserved, hot meal.
“Shit, Potter, did you walk into every beast in the damn forest?”
Harry froze, glaring dully at the floor. Un-fucking-believable. He didn't bother looking up, just started limping again. “Get lost.”
Huffing, Draco walked into Harry's view, coming up from the side corridor that led down into the dungeons. “Believe it or not, I'm not here to bother you. I'm hungry.” He tilted his head down the hall, Harry raising his gaze to stare in growing dread. The Great Hall was full and Malfoy was going to walk in with him.
“Did you catch the bastard?” Draco asked quietly, his eyes roaming over Harry and thankfully not glowing with need. “You look like you went a few rounds with him... Potter, your arm is broken.”
Harry shrugged, eyes slipping over Draco's leather boots. The boy was always dressing in leather now, something to do with his veela heritage. “I'm going out tomorrow. I found someone to lead me to its den.” Shaking his head as he thought of Dren and his fucked up afternoon, Harry tried to walk faster and ignore the boy. That Malfoy just felt the need to chat with him after what had happened in the forest was just icing on the damn shit cake for Harry's nerves. He could feel his anger rising, his jaw tensing almost painfully.
Draco stood still, watching the boy struggle to walk. Eventually he strode forward, getting ahead of the brunette and forcing him to stop. Harry still refused to meet his eye, staring stubbornly at the floor. “Potter, there's food in the infirmary. I'll help you. Just... just stop bleeding everywhere.”
Eyes snapping up, Harry glared the taller boy down. He could see it, just beneath the blond's guarded surface. Concern. “Fuck off, Malfoy. I don't need your fucking help, so just get the fuck away from me.”
Nostrils flaring, Draco inhaled sharply, his face a stone mask of restrained rage. He stepped to the side and Harry limped forward, ignoring the Slytherin once again as he made it to the long Gryffindor table. He didn't acknowledge anyone, just sat at the closest empty seat and began pulling food towards him with his one usable arm.
“Move the hell over.”
Harry kept his head down, trying very hard to ignore the asshole of a Slytherin that was shoving some poor fourth year Gryffindor off his bench just to sit across from him. It was difficult, said asshole slamming his fists down on the table once he sat and pointedly glaring at him. Malfoy didn't even bother eating, the damn prat.
Harry's appetite was quickly dwindling and he was considering just skipping dinner and going straight to bed. As if reading his thoughts, Malfoy finally opened his mouth.
“I'm taking you to Pomfrey's.”
“Over my dead body,” Harry gritted out, nearly biting his fork in his anger.
“The way you're bleeding out, in five minutes that will likely be the case,” Draco snapped back.
“You know what will slow my bleeding? You shutting the fuck up!”
“What the hell is your damn problem, Potter?” Draco snarled, hands tightening into fists.
“You, you fucking git.” Harry stood abruptly, eyes widening as he fell forward, his vision going dim around the edges. “Shit... I might have needed some of that blood.”
Draco grabbed his shoulders to steady the brunette, but Harry reared back from the touch, nearly toppling over the bench backwards. Harry grabbed onto his neighbor's shoulder to keep from tumbling, catching himself and panting.
“Potter...” Draco's voice was alert, full of warning.
“I fucking see them, Malfoy,” Harry gritted back, noticing for the first time that no one was talking. They were in the Great Hall surrounded by students of all ages and no one was talking. Not even the person who he had grabbed and likely injured while trying not to fall. Harry straightened, trying to catch the eye of the oddly motionless person still under his hand. He gulped, Colin staring back at him, eyes hungry and intent.
“Malfoy, whatever you're doing, fucking stop it,” Harry whispered hoarsely, anxiety twisting his stomach as he recognized the look in the many eyes turned his way.
“I'm not doing fucking shit,” Draco shot back, looking around at all the faces silently staring at Harry as if he was their dessert.
“You're the only goddamn veela in this entire school—”
“Am I glowing?” Draco growled. “Are my eyes bright? Feathers? Do you feel any fucking thing for me besides your stubborn, unceasing anger? It's not fucking me!”
Glowering, Harry forced himself to look at Malfoy just to make sure the git wasn't lying. Tall, gorgeous, not glowing. Harry immediately looked away, taking in the faces staring back at him. “That fucker,” he hissed, the pieces clicking together in his mind. “That fucking enchancubus!”
“What? What the hell are you...” Draco fell silent, extracting himself from the bench as the students started standing. “Potter, you need to get out of here.”
“No fucking shit,” Harry muttered, nearly falling again as he tried to get around the bench, his tattered school robes tripping him up. His body burned pain and he gaped, someone having the nerve to grab his broken arm and start licking his blood. Panic began to rise in Harry, his heart racing, breath coming out in short bursts. “Oh hell, don't do this to me. I can't handle anymore pawing!”
He pulled from the grasp, falling back over the bench. He likely would have cracked his skull on the floor if Draco didn't suddenly surge over the table and catch him by the collar. Harry didn't even have the strength to be angry about the boy touching him, panic causing him to gasp for air. “Make them stop... Please... make them stop.”
Looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, Draco jumped onto the table and then hauled Harry up with him. “Get yourself together, Potter. It's just some fucking kids with an urge to touch.” Draco pushed the closest back sharply with his foot, the girl falling back to her seat heavily. “Calm down and we can just walk out of here.”
Harry whimpered, shaking his head fitfully. “I don't... I don't want to be touched—God, I can't... I can't handle this.”
“Are you freaking out?” Draco asked, confusion and disbelief twisting his features.
Harry just whimpered, stepping backwards when someone reached for his ankle and nearly falling as plates slipped and cracked beneath his shoes. Draco had to grab both his shoulders just to keep him from falling to the ground. Everyone was too close, staring at him, trying to touch him with their hands outstretched.
“Potter, I'm going to fix this,” Draco said softly, right in his ear as he curled around his back. Harry struggled, realizing what the boy was going to do.
“Don't—Don't fucking do that,” Harry pleaded, knowing he sounded like a crazy person and unable to stop. He could feel the lightest of pulses, the beginnings of such familiar power wrapping around him. Draco only held him tighter, keeping him from slamming his broken arm while Harry fought to get away.
“It's okay. I know you're scared, but it's okay.”
It wasn't. It really fucking wasn't. “There has to be—Please don't.”
“You can fight it, Potter. You're very good at fighting the pull.”
Harry shivered, already hearing it in Draco's voice. Desire curled around his ear, touching against his throat, tingling down through his core. “You're too close.”
“I was this close last time. Just weeks ago. You walked away like it was nothing,” Draco murmured, hands loosening as Harry began to calm from the sound of his voice. “They're going to look at me now. And you... You're just going to step away like you always do.”
Harry tried to ignore the bitterness in Draco's voice. He tried not to care that the last time the blond had lost control he had been fighting with Harry, nearly punching him into a wall because the Gryffindor had said another really fucking terrible thing. But Draco hadn't punched him. He had started glowing, groaning and pulling away while every student from every class flowed out of doorways to get to the veela halfling.
It had not been easy to walk away. Harry had wanted to crawl on hands and knees and beg Draco to forgive him for being such an angry, rude asshole all the time. He had wanted to strip and kneel and beg the boy to take him, to fuck him as good as he knew Draco could, hard and relentless. He had wanted the boy to hold him, caress him, love him and never leave him again. That was what Harry was feeling now, all those things on top of exhaustion and pain. He did not know if he could walk away.
Harry looked down, the outstretched hands no longer reaching for his legs. Now they were on Draco's, pressing into him lightly, some more boldly pulling at the boy's slacks. That was all they ever did when Draco made his call. They just pressed against him. Sometimes someone tried to kiss him. Harry, for whatever fucked up reason, always wanted to do so much more.
“Go on, Potter. They're not going to touch you,” Draco whispered, so very still behind him, hands resting carefully on his shoulders. Like Harry would break if the boy just touched a little too hard. Like maybe Draco would break if he let his grip grow tighter.
Harry swallowed hard, his mouth feeling wet. He wanted to turn. He wanted to see Draco's glowing, silver eyes and beg him for forgiveness. He had taken so much from the blond, had taken the unforgivable. Which was why Harry never looked. There would be no forgiveness for what he had done. He didn't deserve to be forgiven.
Limbs trembling, pain lancing through his arm, Harry took a cautious step forward, the hands parting to let him through, Draco's fingers falling away. He stooped, getting his feet awkwardly to the bench, sitting on the table and then thumping down the next level with his injured arm tight against his body. He didn't dare look back, still feeling Draco calling him, promising mercy and love like the deceiver he was. Harry pushed forward, limping painfully with each step as he struggled to get to the Great Hall doors.
Harry shut the doors behind him but it only blocked the call a little. Draco could pull everyone in the castle to him with ease if he tried, and all they would do is press a hand to him. Harry was the only one who could walk away, and he was in love with the prat. It was cruel. How unfair for him to face a power that would have allowed him to finally give in to his feelings, only to be too strong to succumb to it.
Harry kept walking, feeling Draco in the back of his mind, seeing him like a pale, shining light of power and desire. It was the worst when Draco was like this. He thought the boy cared. Maybe, even deep within his frozen exterior, Malfoy did. It didn't matter. There was no fixing what Harry had broke. There was no reseeding what had barely bloomed once before.
Harry fell against the wall, darkness encroaching on his vision. He didn't want to go any further. He could feel the edge of Draco's call, the pull ending right where he stood. He didn't want to go past it. He wanted to stay, turn around, and return to the boy. But he couldn't do that either, so he stood, eyes closed, giving in to the weariness of his body and heart.
Draco found Harry passed out halfway to the infirmary. The boy was slumped over against the wall bleeding down the side, yet somehow managing to still stand. Harry was resilient like that. Resilient, powerful, and miserably stubborn.
It had taken Draco a while to pull himself from the Great Hall. Not from the students—He had gotten used to the odd side effect and had learned to manipulate people well enough to back them off to a good couple feet away. No, he had taken his time to calm himself down, Harry's scent still full in his senses, the boy's damn magic-soaked blood dripping all around him. The things Potter did to him just being there... It had been awhile before he could shut down his call, the power hand in hand with his arousal. Harry made Draco hard, wanting, and damn maddened at every turn. Giving in just a little bit was a dam bursting of desire and so hard to hold back from.
Even now he struggled, Draco under control and Harry so exhausted he had fallen asleep on the wall, bleeding and unable to get fully away from his call. He told himself to shut it down, to stuff the damn feelings inside and down into the darkness within. It was difficult, Harry's face free of anger for a change. Harry had been angry for a long time now, ever since Draco had taken something he shouldn't have. That he still wanted it... Well, it just revealed how much of a monster he was.
Harry swayed, mumbling softly when Draco gently pulled him off the wall and into his arms. And if he lingered, eyes sliding over Harry's face currently covered in blood, dirt and sweat, he couldn't blame himself. He was connected to the boy even if the brunette couldn't feel it. Harry was Draco's mate even if they never spoke a kind word again or kissed or touched or even loved. Draco was bound to the reckless, wild boy and had no regrets for it.
“Come on, Potter. Let's get you patched up.” He lifted Harry easily, wrapping the boy's toned, tanned arms around his neck and holding him beneath his thighs. He carried him slowly down the hall, feeling the weight of the boy, smelling his hair and his flesh and blood. He was beautiful—Fucked up and absolutely beautiful.
Something had gotten to Harry while he was out in the Forbidden Forest. Draco wasn't certain what, but he knew it had lust properties similar to a veela. His beast inheritance had come with new senses, ones absolutely fixated on every aspect of sex, including the magic that influenced it. That's how he could sense that Harry had been enchanted. It was also how he knew the boy wanted him, for all his angry, vicious behavior and words. But Harry also hated him and that came first before anything else.
Draco waited outside the door to the hospital wing, leaning against the wall with Harry still wrapped in his arms. It was completely his fault. He had lost control months ago when he first woke up as a veela. He hadn't even understood half of what he was doing, so overcome with the strange, new instincts. He had wanted to live. He had wanted Harry.
Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Draco pushed the door open with his foot, laying the boy down on the nearest cot. He went in search of Madame Pomfrey, finding her in her office sipping a cup of tea.
“Mr. Malfoy, not another slip, I hope?” Pomfrey asked, looking sternly over her cup at him, paperwork surrounding her on the table.
“Not exactly,” Draco said with a faint blush. He wasn't supposed to let his veela call loose in the castle anymore. Although he had enough control to keep himself protected, it could get really embarrassing for the other students. That he still couldn't seem to keep the call isolated to a small area was also concerning, or so his veela cousins had suggested. “It's Potter. He's back from his hunt and wounded. Also he's been enchanted.”
Pomfrey stood, clucking under her breath. “Of course he is. Heaven forbid if the boy could walk outside these castle walls and not end up at death's door.”
Draco silently agreed, Harry an absolute menace for anything ordered and peace oriented. Even more so lately as if the boy was deliberately trying to get himself killed. Draco frowned at the thought, moving aside to let the healer by. Everyone else had been enjoying the spoils of a Voldemort free world while Harry had been quietly drifting, growing smaller and dimmer until all Draco noticed half the time was his anger.
“Oh dear,” Pomfrey gasped, backpedaling into the room and slamming the door behind her. Draco raised a brow, confused at the display. “It's strong,” she explained, a faint blush on her cheeks as she fanned herself. “My god, I thought you veela were bad.”
“What, you're saying it's worse than a veela call?” Draco asked, completely horrified at the thought.
Moving shakily, Pomfrey waved her hand, summoning supplies to a tray. “That would depend on the level of control that particular veela has. You have been very tame, Mr. Malfoy, which we are all grateful for, by the by. But I'm sure if you so chose it, you could have us all eating out of your palm, in a manner of speaking.”
Draco shook his head, not certain at all of such a thing. His call was far reaching but not potent. Not like his cousins who could take the mating call and, well, use it to mate. Not always by choice of their object of affection. Draco had been glad that his call had never been so strong.
“Whatever has spelled Harry, it's powerful. It will not be satisfied by touch, putting him in greater danger by those who feel the effect. Thankfully, it seems to be contained by walls. Do we know what caused this?”
Mind drifting back to the Great Hall, Draco tried to remember what Harry had said. “I think he called it an enchancubus. I've never heard of it before.”
Pausing, Pomfrey began mixing up some potions. “I have. A rare creature that can change its appearance to lure in prey and feed off of them.”
“Feed?” Draco hissed, his eyes narrowing.
“Just sex. Nothing gruesome,” Pomfrey assured. “But they're powerful magic. I will have to do some research to see if we can't make him an antidote of some sort. For now, you are going to have to be my helper.”
Draco blinked down, Madame Pomfrey placing the tray of potions and bandages into his hands. “Um, the thing is...” He really shouldn't be alone with Harry. Especially when the boy was weak, bleeding, and asleep. At least when Harry was swearing at him, Draco was able to see things objectively.
“You were able to bring him here. I can only assume you are immune to the spell. He's badly hurt; I noticed that much.” She gave him an accessing look, eyes piercing. “You will be fine, Mr. Malfoy, like you were the last time when faced with him. Once he is healed, you must take him to one of the single rooms or I will be trapped in my office. Understood?”
Draco nodded, his stomach twisting in knots. If he lost his shit, she would not be able to help. He wished sometimes there were other veela in the school, ones with enough knowledge and power to help him get through moments like this.
Sighing, he turned, letting Pomfrey step back further into the room before he quickly opened the door, slipped through and closed it. He started, eyes drawn up when he heard a noise, meeting Harry's surprised, wide eyed gaze. Draco didn't move, didn't breathe, forcing the memory of flesh, sweat, and moans from his mind.
“Where's Pomfrey?” Harry croaked, Draco flinching from the sound of fear in the boy's voice.
“You've been enchanted,” he said flatly, forcing himself to move in slow, cautious steps so he didn't startle Harry. It was only half successful, the brunette watching him like a hawk. A terrified, wide eyed hawk ready to claw the instant he slipped up. “She can't help until she brews up an antidote. Fortunately, I can.” He tried to be light about it, but his voice just sounded grim in his ears.
Eying the blond warily, Harry sat up in the cot, putting his back to the wall and raising his chin as if ready for a fight. Draco would not be surprised if the boy started one, Harry obviously feeling cornered and overwhelmed. “She mixed up some calming draught,” Draco said, raising the vial.” If Harry didn't want it, he would gladly drink it down.
Glaring at the blue-green liquid, Harry gave a curt nod, making the barest of beckoning motions for Draco to approach. Not fully trusting that the boy wouldn't bolt or try to break his nose, Draco first went to the bedside table, placing the tray down so nothing could be spilled if Harry decided he'd rather brawl. He hadn't really spoken to Harry much since the incident—Not that they ever really did before. They were in two different houses, lived two very different lives that shared amazing similarities. But somehow that year, for all of Draco trying to avoid the Gryffindor, they had managed to run across each other more and more, usually with Harry swearing up a storm, being absolutely rude, and smelling delicious. And for whatever reason, Draco was having a very difficult time ignoring Harry like he had promised himself he would.
Harry took the vial when handed to him, sipping and making a face at the bitter flavor. He eyed the metal tray, mind calculating what everything was for. Handing the drained bottle back to Draco's waiting hand, Harry fixed him with a glare. “I'm not taking my clothes off.”
Draco scoffed, eyes narrowing at the challenge. “You think I can fix a broken arm when I can't even see it?”
“Do I look like I give a fuck? I'll wait until Pomfrey brews up that antidote,” Harry said sharply.
Draco just waited, hoping the damn calming draught would have an effect eventually. Anything concerning will tended to be useless against Harry. Which was why magic ranging from veela calls to the Imperius curse never worked properly. Harry was as stubborn as possible, defying even the laws of magic. Draco couldn't help but admire it.
“Will you compromise with me?” Draco asked, hands held limply at his side, palms open. Dealing with Harry was like dealing with a wild, injured animal most of the time. He always found himself overly aware of his body language, trying to keep the boy from freaking out.
Harry stirred slightly, having grown drowsy, startling green eyes slightly hazy. Blinking, he hesitantly pushed his robe off, letting the shredded material fall to the bed. Draco held back a sigh, the brunette somehow more damaged underneath the robe, his t-shirt slashed and bloodied.
“Why the hell did you go out there without armor? It looks like you rolled out of bed and decided to go hunting the creature without any preparation at all.” Harry looked away, smirking widely, and Draco realized that had been exactly what had happened. The boy was a reckless fool.
He took a step towards the bed, preparing to heal the broken arm first. Harry stiffened, eyes once again glaring at him, body held as if getting ready to bite or run. “I just want to heal your arm. It must hurt, right?”
Harry's glare intensified as if pointing out that he was in pain was beyond the rules of whatever fucked up game they were playing. “It's fine.”
“It's broken. You can't move it. I can see the bone trying to push out of your skin. Would you like another calming draught?” One was usually the limit for someone of Harry's height and weight, but Draco was willing to push the boundaries if it would get the boy to calm the fuck down. At the brunette's nod, Draco carefully handed another vial over, Harry's hands shaking when he took it. The boy threw it back like a shot this time, making Draco wonder if he shouldn't have tried to get some alcohol instead.
“Alright... But just my arm. I don't want it to heal fucked up,” Harry muttered, tearing at the shreds of bloodied shirt tangled around his left shoulder, managing to bare his side and half his chest in the process. Draco hissed when the boy's tanned skin came into view, bruised, slashed, and a distinct burn pattern revealed.
Harry glared, chin again raising defiantly. “Just the arm.”
“Like hell. That's a vice vine burn. You've been poisoned.” Draco stopped himself from continuing, hands held up in defeat. “Fine, the arm for now. Maybe you'll feel like getting the rest healed after you see how much better it feels.” He didn't really believe it but was hoping the double dose of calming draught might actually knock the boy out. Harry was already swaying, eyelids heavy, and looking far too sexy for his own good.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Draco counted to ten. As he carefully approached the bed, eyes fixed on the brunette's arm and not the cautious green glare following him, he wondered if Harry was more afraid of him, or himself. Draco could smell it now that he was next to the boy, fingers gently probing his broken arm. Bleeding, exhausted, and in excruciating pain, Harry still managed to be aroused, body nearly brimming with want. Want for him, which only made it all the more infuriating when the brunette snapped and snarled the way he did.
Draco held Harry's arm firmly, feeling the muscles tense beneath his palms. “This will hurt,” he said, then squeezed, feeling the broken bones realign beneath his fingers. Harry merely hissed, teeth gritted as he grimaced. Holding the boy's arm in place with one hand, Draco used his wand in the other, knitting a binding around the bones so that they would heal properly when the accelerator potion was applied. He worked swiftly, not immune to Harry's increased breathing, never mind flooding of scent. How Potter could get fucking hard while being patched up was beyond him. Harry did seem to have a damn pain kink.
Draco stepped back once the arm was bandaged, more for himself than the now scowling Gryffindor. Shit, the boy was always so goddamn angry. It was like the harder Harry got, the fucking angrier he was. Considering how angry Potter always seemed to be, Draco imagined the boy was always goddamn hard. He shut his eyes again, counting to twenty, trying to focus on the caustic smell of antiseptic and not the alluring scent of Harry's musk. It was difficult... very difficult...
“Stop,” Harry hissed, feeling the beginnings of Draco's pull, warm tendrils slipping around his flesh.
Growling, Draco stepped away, crossing the room and facing the other direction. Harry's scent didn't reach this far, his breath not loud enough. His magic could still be felt, pulsing like some siren's call, but Draco had learned to ignore that months ago. Harry's magic was always so strong to him, always so loud and begging for connection.
Mine, Draco thought, trying not to hate the half of him that had made it so. Harry was his and trying to twist his magic around him to pull him down into his fucked up, angry self.
Draco wanted to give in. He wanted to be consumed by the boy's heated, dark desire. Taste his skin again. Feel his tight flesh open to him…
“Shit, Malfoy, just get the fuck out of here. You clearly can't control yourself since having to... stop them.” Harry was panting, the barest of need in his voice that Draco couldn't help but focus on. “I'm glad you stopped them... but you're not in control and...” Harry trailed off when Draco turned, the boy's green eyes dark and full of desire beneath heavy lashes.
“I'm in control of myself,” Draco said flatly, eyes roaming over the beautiful boy. He had not jumped Harry. He had not pinned him down and stolen a hundred deep kisses. He had not even touched the boy's flesh the way he wanted, pulling hot moans and aching cries from Harry's lips. Draco was in perfect bloody control of himself and had been since returning to school after learning said control from the veelas. That he called sometimes trying to pull his chosen one to him was to be more than expected, and Draco had managed to avoid even that every goddamn day.
“I don't believe you,” Harry said, frown growing when Draco slowly returned, crossing the distance between them.
Draco wanted to remind him what he could do, what he had done when he lost control. Harry knew the fucking difference, knew what it was like when he couldn't stop—Didn't even have enough in him to want to stop. But Draco didn't dare speak the words to call back that memory. They would never speak of it again. He had been desperate and newly changed and Harry... Harry had been beautiful and powerful and dripping in blood and scent that had just been irresistible. Draco knew how to resist now. He did it every day.
“How does your arm feel?” Draco asked evenly, knowing his face was blank, his eyes cold again.
Huffing, Harry managed to shrug without wincing. Clearly it was better.
“Let me get the poison out. It's just a salve to heal the vice vine.” Draco held up the pot, not surprised that the healer had managed to spot the hint of blue to Harry's lips even while fighting the powerful enchantment on the brunette.
Swallowing hard, Harry shook his head no, now completely adverting his eyes. Draco took it as a positive sign, the brunette tired enough to let some of his anger go. Draco sat carefully on the side of the bed, making sure not to touch the boy in any way. It was five long minutes of strained breathing, Harry's throat showing signs of swelling from the invasive toxin the plant carried before he finally relented, pushing the rest of his shredded t-shirt over his head.
Draco kept silent, knowing anything he said would be taken the wrong way. He gave Harry another minute before even moving, and then it was just to touch his wand to any particularly nasty wound and heal it quickly, avoiding the pattern of poisoned flesh for now. Harry still jumped when Draco opened the small jar of light green salve, eyes blinking sleepily as he watched Draco's fingers dip in and coat.
“W-Wait,” Harry whispered, Draco's fingertips nearly an inch from the largest of the wounds. Draco stilled, feeling the tension in the boy, energy jolting through Harry's form even as his muscles relaxed further, the calming draught flowing deeper into his cells.
“Ready?” Draco asked when the brunette made no more protests. Harry was still staring at his fingers, eyes completely hazy now.
“Okay,” Harry breathed out, sinking deeper back, relaxing against the wall. He closed his eyes at the first touch of fingers, sighing softly as the salve soothed the burning sensation on his skin.
Draco tried to work quickly and efficiently but his hands would not obey him. They kept straying, kept slowing and touching, small caresses that just begged for more. And Harry, eyes barely opened, just watched his hands as they pressed firmly into his skin and rubbed slick circles and patterns into the slowly disappearing wounds. Eventually there were no more marks on his flesh and Draco had to force himself to stop. To touch the boy then was to cross a line he had no right to cross. It was difficult, especially when Harry kept sighing soft, breathless sighs, his hips rocking subtly up when Draco pressed down.
It would be so easy to kiss him, Harry nearly asleep, gaze meeting his while he rested slumped on the wall. “Don't fall asleep, Potter,” Draco warned, taking in the boy's stunning eyes and full, parted lips. He was beautiful and far too vulnerable to be alone with Draco in that moment.
Harry smirked weakly, eyelids drooping lower. “Thought you were... in control,” he whispered, his voice the barest of murmurs in the room.
“I am,” Draco whispered back, cupping Harry's face, dipping forward to steal just one small, little kiss. He stilled, centimeters away, an unfamiliar scent filling his senses.
“Has someone—Have you been with someone, Potter?” He asked abruptly, moving over Harry's skin, breathing deep and trying to figure out just what the hell Harry was covered in. It wasn't human. Wasn't veela. But it reeked of magic, sex magic, and Draco found himself growling the lower on Harry he got and the more he smelled the creature. “Fucking—Are you fucking shitting me?” He snarled, pulling Harry's waistband forward only to be assaulted by the creature's scent.
He snapped his gaze up, Harry's eyes blinking dazedly back at him. “Who, Potter? Who the fuck touched you? Did he fuck you? Did you let some fucking lust creature fuck your beautiful body while I can't even touch you?” Draco hated the misery so clear in his voice. Harry could fight every lust power he knew of, even from his stronger, full blooded veela cousins. But he had let this creature touch him.
Harry held his hand up, fingers nearly taking Draco's eyes out before the boy's intent was clear. He covered the blond's mouth. “Don't call me that. Only he can call me that.”
Draco was pissed, and Harry insisting only another man could call him something was not helping. “I will call you whatever the hell I want. You are—”
“No,” Harry mumbled, eyes drifting closed again. “Only Malfoy calls me beautiful.”
“For fuck sake,” Draco moaned grabbing the fingers that were slipping down his chin as Harry's breath began to even out. “Damn you, Potter. Damn you for doing this to me.” He could not help it when he ran his lips over Harry's fingertips, tongue reaching out, tasting dirt, sweat and the brunette's distinct flavor of flesh.
He had to know. It would haunt him forever if he had let Harry go out alone only to be fucked by some enchanted predator.
Dumbledore had asked him to stay back, to make the terrible phone calls to the parents of the three Slytherin students attacked that morning. By the time he had learned that Harry had been asked to go out and had left alone, Draco had then had to deal with the panicked parents of said students, one particularly angry brute threatening to hex him into oblivion if he did not get to see his daughter. Draco had been forced to restrain the man, the children tainted and contagious with no cure in sight. The entire day he had been worried for Harry being out there alone with a crazed beast. It had been a shit day and now here was Harry, dripping in another's scent, covered in an enchantment that would surely only draw more people with many scents to cover him. It was too much.
Growling, Draco released Harry's hand, using both of his to quickly untangle the sleeping boy's belt. He had the brunette's pants down to his knees in less than a minute, hissing and pulling them off entirely when he saw the huge gash on the boy's thigh that ran down to his calve. God, he was a fucking mess. Glaring at the wound a long moment, Draco deliberately ignored it, hands sliding to Harry's briefs.
“I will fucking kill him, Potter,” he promised, pressing his cheek to Harry's sharp hipbone and breathing deep. “I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you never want me to touch you again. I will kill anyone that fucks you.” He peeled Harry's waistband back, moving the soft material down and slowly unmasking the last of Harry's flesh to his view. He scowled as the foreign scent grew stronger.
Draco moved slowly, careful not to give in to the overwhelming urge to taste the soft length nestled in dark curls. Instead he slipped lower, nose nuzzling in, seeking out Harry's balls and behind. He pulled back abruptly, quickly wrapping the boy back up. He held his hand over his face while his mind whirled.
Not fucked. Not taken. Just soaked in saliva. Draco groaned, sinking to the floor to sit, knees folded up while he fought the urge to rock back and forth in agitation. He couldn't live like this. He just couldn't keep fucking doing this.
Standing, he caught the cut again on Harry's leg. Growling deep in his throat, he used his wand to heal it, wishing to touch the boy instead, to taste the damn blood that his instincts and memory told him would be perfect. He couldn't. It would just be the end of him no matter how much he wanted him.
Harry's jeans were soaked in blood and filth, Draco glancing around until he found the cabinet Madame Pomfrey kept the pajamas in. He brusquely slipped the pants up the brunette's legs after pulling the boy's shoes and socks off, then, with far more hesitation than was needed, lifted Harry's hips to get the boy finally decent. Draco paused, hands firmly on his hips, fingers digging in too hard, staring at Harry's sleeping face and wishing the Gryffindor would wake and yell at him to keep him from the madness growing inside.
Harry was out cold, two draughts too much for his already exhausted body. He had been accosted by something in the forest along with a host of lesser beasts that left their claw marks on him and then had returned to school to have a cafeteria full of students try to grind on him. And now he was asleep, completely defenseless with a love-crazed veela halfling who was too powerful for anyone to stop if he truly tried to take what he wanted.
“Wake up, you reckless, angry idiot,” Draco whispered hoarsely, leaning forward to press his forehead to Harry's. “Don't just fucking sit there and trust me. You know I can't be trusted.” He tilted his head, gently brushing his lips to Harry's. He did it again, pressing harder, groaning when Harry responded sleepily, the slightest of returning pressure and the parting of his lips.
“Damn you,” Draco muttered, flicking his tongue out, tasting Harry's lips, the flavor the same dripping, heady honey of before. “Tell me you're still mine, Harry,” he pleaded softly, tasting again, diving into the boy's sweet mouth and nipping his bottom lip. “You are my beautiful mate. Tell me that you're mine.”
Harry didn't answer, stubborn even in a drug induced sleep. Sighing, Draco pulled away, tongue running over his lips, trying to taste every bit of Harry still clinging to him.
It was almost a year since he had tasted Harry the first and only time. For all he knew, he would never have the chance again. Seventh year was nearly over and he'd be returning to an empty manor. Harry would... Well, he wasn't sure what Harry would be doing. Maybe living with his godfather and his werewolf boyfriend. Maybe punishing himself and going back to his hateful relatives. He wouldn't be visiting Malfoy Manor anytime soon. Not after his last visit. Not after Draco had raped him and forced him to kill.
Draco left Harry in a private room, tossing his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor and locking the door behind him. He lit the sign that informed any passerby that the occupant was enchanted and dangerous and then gave a quick knock to Madame Pomfrey's office door.
“He's settled in?” She asked, well aware that Harry could no longer be in the room if she was not feeling his enchantment's pull with the door open.
“Asleep. Healed.” Delicious. “His arm will be fine in about an hour. I'm going to bed but I'm willing to help in the morning until you find your antidote.”
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I know how difficult this must be for you.” She patted his arm lightly, her eyes sober.
Maybe she did know, having treated halflings before. Draco wasn't sure. His veela brethren had scoffed at him for even lusting after a human. But then, they barely thought humans were worth the air they breathed even though they kept mating with them. Draco shook his head wearily. “Earlier I had to pull a large group of students off of him in the Great Hall. I can protect him, but I think it's better if he's not around people.”
“I agree. Mr. Potter has been trying lately,” Pomfrey said carefully, thinking of how many times Harry had been in there recently, brawls and explosions resulting in many a broken bone. “Maybe some forced isolation will do him good.”
Draco shrugged, not really caring. Nothing was going to fix Potter. Not after what he had done to the boy. A part of him didn't even care, just so long as no one tried to touch him and take him away. Draco didn't think Harry would ever truly be his but he was able to live with that as long as Harry was no one else's.
Harry was not surprised he dreamed after his terrible day of Malfoys at every front. He had not had this dream for a while. He had hoped he could finally block it out and move on with his life. It was of the night he killed Voldemort. The night he destroyed fifteen Death Eaters in one instant. The night Draco Malfoy saved both their lives with sex magic.
“Shit, you're bleeding everywhere.”
“Hurts,” Harry groaned, fighting the darkness, fighting the red dull throb pounding in his head.
“I'm going to help. Fuck... Fuck, Potter. You smell so good.”
Someone was breathing up Harry's neck, nose pressing into his skin, warm breath ghosting over his flesh. Harry struggled to open his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. The Order... They had been changing locations... There had been spells, flashes of lights, and screams...
“Hell... fucking hell. Potter, I need you to wake up. He's going to kill you. He's going to kill us both, and I need you to wake the fuck up.”
Brows furrowed, Harry tried to focus on the voice in his ear. It was familiar but different. Male... low... Licking him. He whimpered, the hot touch of tongue on his neck only increasing. What was... What was Malfoy doing?
Harry again fought to open his eyes but his body didn't want to listen to him. His head hurt so much, he could barely think. He wanted to sleep. It was dark and he was tired. It was time to sleep.
“Come on, Potter, don't die on me.” The tongue returned, long, hot trails of wet moving up to his jaw, teeth nipping in, clamping firmly. Harry was so tired but his body felt hot, very hot. His skin was tingling, jolting from every brush of flesh against him, touch of hand, press of lips. “I'm going to give you some energy. You need to stay alive.”
Lips descended on Harry's, warm, firm, persistent. He groaned again, his head throbbing, fire racing over his skin like a million painful bee stings. A tongue pushed its way past his parted lips, delving in, tasting him, finding his tongue and touching, taunting until Harry had to respond. His body shuddered, the pain behind his eyes dulling. Another wave of tingling, this time within him, prickling agony all throughout. He whimpered, his entire body crying out for the peaceful, numbing darkness.
The darkness wouldn't come. He was on the ground, the floor cold and unyielding beneath him. There was something heavy atop him, hot and moving, tearing at his clothes and stealing his air. Harry blearily pushed at the body, pausing when his hand touched bare, smooth flesh. The mouth suffocating him suddenly pulled away, a hand moving over his face, pushing his hair back in a firm, dragging way that sent shivers through him.
“You there, Potter?”
Harry cracked his eyes open, his lids feeling unbearably heavy. “Malfoy?” He croaked weakly. He thought it was Draco, but the boy looked different. Older. His white-blond hair was long, his features more defined and aristocratic. His shoulders... Harry licked his lips, unable to stop staring at Draco's very broad, absolutely bare shoulders. He reached his hand up, grabbing onto a thick bicep and squeezing firmly. They felt real. Fucking tight, compact, strong muscle.
Draco stilled from the touch, his eyes silver and searing as he met Harry's gaze and held it. There were feathers dusting around his pale face, tipping on his ears and making his eyebrows extend in an intense, fierce expression. Draco dipped his head, hand holding Harry's face in place while he ghosted the barest of touches to his lips. “Potter, we don't have a lot of time.”
Harry wasn't exactly sure what they were in a rush for. All he knew was that Draco was looking like some glowingly pale, magnificent specimen of feathery male and was kissing him. Harry let his hand thread through the boy's long, silky hair, Draco sighing softly in reply. Harry tightened his grip, fisting a thick chunk, silver eyes locking on his in question. Smirking, Harry pulled harder, watching raptly as the boy's mouth parted and he began to pant. Harry leaned up, tongue trembling, tracing over those perfect, tasty lips and wet them thoroughly.
Draco gave a broken moan, a thin trail of fluid dripping down the corner of his mouth, his hips jolting forward from the touch. Harry gasped, feeling the boy's erection grinding down into his hip. Growling heatedly, Draco slammed him flat on the ground and with a wrench, had the brunette's shirt torn in half.
“Holy fuck,” Harry gaped, eyes following down the long tear, noticing for the first time that Draco was completely naked. His chest looked sculpted out of marble, his abs a perfect eight pack, each muscle tight and smooth, making the boy look more sleek and lithe than the pure power Harry could feel moving over him. He wanted to see more but Draco's hips were pinned to his, stealing the view of the hard flesh searing through his jeans.
Harry watched, dumbfounded as strong, long fingers descended on his pants, tearing at his belt with frustrated jerks. “What, you're not going to rip my pants in half, too?” Harry asked breathlessly.
Draco gave another growl, moving back up the boy's body, mouth on the brunette's ear while he asked silkily. “You want me to tear you in half, Potter? Want me to fuck you so hard you can't fucking walk?”
Harry moaned shakily, hips pushing up into the blond's hard body. “Fuck, yes.”
“Oh, thank god,” Draco whispered back, tongue laving over Harry's neck, teeth nipping, mouth sucking desperate purple welts. “Because I feel like I'm going to die if I don't fuck you, Potter. You are so fucking tight, and sexy, and goddamn tasty... And I really want you... to be mine.”
Eyes blinking blankly at the top of Draco's head, Harry grinned, wider and wider until he felt like a full out lunatic. Draco fucking Malfoy liked him. Holy fuck.
He had never considered that Draco might have a thing for him given that they were always fighting, barely spoke otherwise, and well, Harry didn't think of himself as anything worth wanting. He knew he was a mess—And not just his shaggy chocolate locks. He had tried to fix himself up a bit, ditching his glasses for spells, dressing in clothes that actually fit. But he was always going to be a torn jeans and faded t-shirt kind of guy.
His toned, average height body was strong, lithe and sinewy, but didn't look sculpted like the form grinding down on him. Tanned, he always looked dirty, mostly because he was from his work outside during the summer. He had scars and cuts littered all over him from his many accidents and battles. Scars Draco seemed intent to touch and lick as he pulled the scraps of the brunette's shirt away. Harry might have been beautiful with his stunning green eyes, sharp cheekbones and full red mouth, but he didn't see it even if Hermione kept insisting.
“Oh crap,” Harry swore, once again flat on his back, Draco pinning his shoulders down and glaring at him. He swallowed hard, biting his lip under that searing gaze. Harry had sort of had a thing for Draco for a while, one he had really wished not to have. There really was no way to get around the extreme complications of Malfoy's life, especially since Voldemort had been suspected of moving into the boy's house. Apparently there had been more complications because Draco was definitely glowing and feathery. “What... uh... Why do you look so different?”
With slower, sure motions, Draco attacked Harry's belt again, this time succeeding in unbuckling it. “I'm a veela. A halfling. Woke up a couple of days ago like this...” Draco trailed off, hissing softly as he managed to unzip Harry's jeans and push them roughly down his thighs with his underwear.
Harry blushed, Draco staring fixated on his straining dick. Then the boy was moving down his body, Harry wide eyed as that very talented tongue slid down to touch into his slit and steal his dripping precum. “Oh god...” he breathed out unsteadily, watching the boy widen his lips and sink his dick into his mouth, circling his cock with intense heat but refusing to touch. It was torture, and Harry was about to say something when his eyes caught sight of a bloody hand on the floor across the room.
“M-Malfoy. There's a body over there.”
Draco lifted his head, tongue again flicking out to taste along Harry's slit in an intense, hip jolting touch. “My father.”
Harry nodded dumbly, taking him a moment to realize Draco was talking about the body on the floor. “Why is your...?”
“I killed him.” This time when Draco descended on his length, he kept his mouth barely open, dragging his wet lips around his sensitive tip and rubbing. Harry moaned, head falling back heavily on the floor as Draco tongue began to swirl over the head of his cock, rough, hungry licks that had him writhing on the ground. Draco grabbed his hips, heavy palms holding Harry in place while he bucked into the blond's mouth.
Suddenly Draco let him go, heat and strong hands replaced with grasping claws as he tore his jeans down his legs, pulling his shoes off with quick movements. Harry lay panting, trying to get his mind to start working again. “Fuck, Malfoy. Why did you kill your dad?”
“Because he was going to kill you and then feed me to that freak next door,” Draco said with a growl, Harry finally stripped, sweaty, and his. He practically purred as he sleekly crawled back up the brunette's form, hands lingering over scars, head dipping to taste a nipple and tease with restrained nips.
Eyes closing from the sensation, Harry fought for his train of thought. “F-Feed?”
“Yes,” Draco hissed, tongue laving out. “Dozens already. Dead, half eaten veela. I didn't even realize why he had come here until I woke up changed.”
Mind whirling, Harry tried to remember what Hermione had owled him about weeks ago. Ritualistic killings. Dark magic where sex and cannibalism were combined to steal the victim's power. Young, beautiful men found dumped, bodies half eaten. Harry felt sick, his stomach churning as he paled. “My god, he...”
“My father tried to give me the potion,” Draco continued, grabbing Harry's chin and forcing him to meet his glare. “My own father with his fucking veela genes was going to feed me to You-Know-Who.”
“What a monster,” Harry said heatedly, wishing Draco's eyes would stop glowing so brightly, burning him so deeply, all he could feel was fire inside instead of the disgust and horror he should be feeling. Voldemort was in the other room. He was expecting Draco soon, to rape and eat, and his guard was dead. Harry should be trying to get them the fuck out, not rocking his hips in unbearable need.
“I saw you. Saw you broken,” Draco said softer, eyes running over Harry's face. He paused on his lips, staring at the brunette's gasping red mouth. “I was afraid he was going to do the same to you. Touch your golden skin. Make you bleed. Scream. Come. I just couldn't let him do that to you.”
Harry was starting to think Draco might have lost his fucking mind. “This potion, what was it supposed to do?”
Tongue lapping over the brunette's swollen lips, Draco took a moment to answer. “It makes you so horny, you don't care if someone is eating you alive.”
Harry whimpered, very much afraid of the answer to his next question. “Did you actually drink it?”
Draco grinned wickedly, revealing white teeth with sharp fangs. “I'm going to fuck you so hard, Potter. Do you like it hard?”
Harry was pretty sure as long as Draco kept glowing his veela eyes at him, he was going to like it any way the boy gave it.
“Malfoy, we need to get out of here,” he said weakly, grunting when Draco bit his neck harder this time. “We need to, oh fuck... escape.” If Voldemort or one of his henchmen walked in there that very second, Draco would likely just try to fuck them too and get himself eaten in the process.
“I have a plan. A very good... very, very tight plan,” Draco murmured, stretching his body over Harry's, hot bare flesh pinning the smaller boy down, long strong legs tangling with his. “Veela have this special magic. Sex magic. That's why that sick fuck keeps eating us.”
Harry really wished Draco's voice wasn't so fucking sultry and seductive while saying disgusting things. A large palm was suddenly moving down his thigh, spreading his bare legs wide and hooking one around the blond's hip. Harry bucked up, rocking into the boy's hard erection, moaning when he realized Draco must have come once already, hot, sticky fluid dripping between their taut bodies.
“I'm going to give you my power... We're going to kill... that fucker,” Draco said between bucks of Harry's hips. He pushed the brunette's other knee up, hand moving down and caressing the inside of his tense, strong thigh. “And you... fucking gorgeous, sexy, Harry... are going to be mine.”
Harry cried out, two thick fingers pressing against his hole. He felt magic tingling inside him an instant before the fingers pushed into his now slick passage, deep and relentless, filling him in a way he had never been filled before.
“Oh, that's it... Louder. Show me how much you like it,” Draco growled, watching Harry's face while the boy gasped and moaned uncontrollably. “You are so hot. So fucking tight inside... Have you ever been fucked, Harry? God, do I get to be your first?” Draco groaned, hips grinding down against his while he plunged fingers into his clenching, slowly stretching, tightness.
“Oh god... my god... I can't...” Harry arched, his head nearly slamming on the floor. He felt crazy, the sensations from the fingers moving within him creating an agonizing fire inside that just kept building and building with no relief in sight. He tightened his leg around the pale boy's strong waist, hands grasping over Draco's shoulders, wrenching at his flesh, pulling him down closer so that he could feel every inch of his body.
Draco kissed him, stealing his heated moans, drinking his cries while he added another finger deep inside him. Harry was becoming undone, body shaking, mouth gasping around Draco's tongue and spilling clear wet down his chin and throat. “Amazing. You are so, fucking, amazing, Potter... That's it. Oh, I can feel you... loosening. Give it up, sexy. Open up to me.”
The fingers were suddenly gone, Harry whimpering, feeling so empty and cold inside. He rocked his hips impatiently, knowing what was coming next. He needed it... needed it so bad. Needed Draco to fuck him like he had promised. “Oh fuck... Oh, my god,” Harry sobbed, feeling the blunt head of Draco's hot cock press against his entrance.
“I know what you need, Harry. Now look at me,” Draco demanded lowly until they brunette's eyelids flew open. Harry started, Draco's silver gaze glowing brighter, pulling his focus, stealing all his pain when the powerful boy surged forward and sheathed deep into his tight flesh. Harry gaped, choked gasps of air, his body so full, stretched so wide around the thick cock impaling him.
“You're tight... so fucking tight, beautiful,” Draco hissed, holding his gaze, not letting him look away. “It's like you were meant to be open to me... Spreading to me. Do you feel it, Harry? Can you feel how you're mine?”
Harry truly could, something inside him clicking with Draco buried deep inside him. Something more than flesh, more than the sweat and gasps of breath. It was as if he could feel Draco, his power, his energy and his thoughts just at the cusp of his awareness, twining with him, trying to sink in just as deep as he was in his flesh. He was being added to. Opened wide and filled with another soul.
Harry surrendered to the boy as Draco began to thrust into him with slow, jolting slams. He wrapped his arms tight around the blond's neck, short nails digging into his sweat soaked shoulders, heel gripping his rippling lower back for leverage as he rocked with the pale boy's thrusts. He was losing his mind, the pleasure so great, the boy so sexy and deep inside him. “Oh god, Draco. You feel so good... So big and, oh... Oh fuck. You're so fucking thick.”
The friction was intense, Draco's cock dragging across the tight walls of his passage, slick, wet sounds as he drove into him again and again. Harry watched the boy's biceps flex before each forceful push, blearily feeling something else building in the pit of his stomach.
“You're getting close. I need you to focus now,” Draco whispered, slowing his rocking hips, burying deep into Harry's clenching heat and staying deep. “Can you feel your power?” He asked hoarsely, again pulling his gaze.
“Y-Yes. It's bright... pulsing,” he murmured, staring deep into Draco's silver depths and wishing he never had to look away.
“Good. You need to pull it up. Like drinking through a straw.” Draco ran his hand down between them, pressing the soft pads of his fingertips against Harry's dripping naval and sliding up towards his chest. “Yes, I can feel it. Can you feel mine?”
Harry nodded mutely, mouth gasping for air. Draco's power was already shimmering around them, soaking them together as much as their sweat was.
“When you touch my power you're going to hear heartbeats. Don't be alarmed. I'm keyed in to the other room.” Draco closed his eyes for a moment, his expression twisting, hips pressing forward as he groaned. Harry moaned in response, Draco grinding deep within him. He clenched down, tightening around the thick flesh so hot inside.
“N-No, got to hold back,” Draco gasped, trying to bring himself under control. “You're just so... fucking beautiful.”
Harry had never been called beautiful, especially by someone that was clearly more so than him. The potion must have really fucked Draco up. Harry tried to focus on his power, pulling more up, brows furrowed when he realized just how deep it reached inside him, so much energy swirling and growing. He had never felt so much power, but it was his. Had always been there, not fully tapped.
“Careful now,” Draco warned, sweat dripping down his face as he caught him in his glowing glare again. “Reach for my power.”
Harry did, eyes widening as heat and sound suddenly filled his senses, his vision going dark.
“Don't panic. It's dark. Supposed to be dark.” Draco swallowed hard, shifting slightly to relieve the strain on his arms. “Now focus. There's a different heartbeat... slower... older. He's so much older, and his heart gives it away. It stutters—Right there.”
Harry winced, not wanting to go towards the sick, twisted presence. It was soaked in blood and decay. And something else... Something shimmery veiled around it, tattered and corrupted. It reminded him of Draco. Scraps of veela energy and flesh. “Hell.”
“Yes,” Draco hissed. “You need to strike him, Potter. Wrap your power around him and snuff that heartbeat out. Do you think you can do that? If I hold the link, can you crush his heart?”
There was so much hope and fear in Draco's voice. He could feel it, the boy's emotions through his flesh as well as his power. Harry nodded once, pulling at the golden glow within him. Draco's energy began to shimmer and twist, accommodating his power as he built it up. He had never woven a spell and as he felt Draco's thoughts, the blond hadn't either. Draco was going on instinct—The instincts of a desperate, magical creature halfling that didn't want to be a meal for the monster on the other side of the wall.
“My god, you're powerful... So much power,” Draco whispered in awe, having touched down, found the well within Harry as the boy pulled power up. He didn't reply, needing to focus, weaving his net around the rotting heart, wide and afar so that his presence wouldn't be felt. His energy flared and calm faltered, his body clenching around Draco's hard length embedded deep inside him.
“Hold onto it, Harry. Don't lose your focus now... We're so close.”
Gasping, he began to tighten his glowing net. What was once a million thin threads of power solidified together as it condensed and began to close. They both whimpered, Voldemort's power suddenly surging in awareness, pushing at the flowing energy. Harry could feel it trying to push out and tear through the seemingly thin skin. He fought against it, constricting, wrenching energy, but the evil power was too strong.
“Quickly—Before he regroups,” Draco hissed. They didn't have much time. Surprise was their true advantage and they were losing it.
Connected still to the well of power within, Harry urgently grabbed for it, surging wave after unimaginable wave through his body, through the connection to crash down around the net. He felt Voldemort relent, felt the evil weaken like a wilting, shriveling plant, curling in under his bombardment. It was an old heart, no matter how much magic was used to fortify it. Old, weak, and stuttering its last beats.
“Potter—No!” Draco cried, but it was too late. The net snapped shut, down to a mere pinprick of light. The darkness flowed in as silence fell and the heat began to dissipate.
“Oh hell... fucking... No.” Harry struggled to get up, drained of his power, horrified once he realized what he had done. The room had not been empty. It had been full of heartbeats. Full of life. Now it was completely silent.
Draco, eyes wild, slammed his hands down on Harry's shoulders and kissed the boy fiercely. He jerked, trying to pull away, but Draco was too strong, tongue persistently suffocating him as the boy pinned him down and pushed forward into his shaking, trembling body. Moaning, Harry gave in, heat and touch building as Draco's eyes again burned fire into him.
“No—I... Those people,” Harry choked out, arching on the floor. Draco didn't say anything, just growled, wrapping the brunette tight in his arms while he filled the boy with his scalding seed. Harry bucked, clamping down on the spurting flesh, urging more even as tears streamed down his face. As if determined to destroy any sanity that could ever be when looking back at this memory, Draco reached between them, wrapped his fingers around Harry's hard cock, and stroked. Harry came with a sob, pleasure and agony complete as his cum spouted in white trails over the blond's hand and both their stomachs.
Then Draco left him, gone to see the destruction in the other room, Harry moaning fitfully on the floor while his frantic, numb mind tried to count how many heartbeats he had heard.
Seventeen. One Dark Lord. Fifteen Death Eaters. One Narcissa Malfoy, beaten bloodied and chained for trying to save her son.
Harry awoke shouting, sweating in the dark. Realizing he was in a small room of the infirmary, he slowly calmed his breathing. He curled in on himself, body bowing forward, knees tight against his chest. He had found a way, somehow, to deal with the lives he had stolen. Evil men and women. Evil, frightened people that had done terrible things so that they would not be harmed. All but that one. Draco's mother.
He had passed out after the spell. His power had been depleted. The well of power had been his life energy. He hadn't understood it at the time. He could have killed himself attempting what they had succeeded at. Draco hadn't understood it either. Neither of them had known the consequences that came from killing Voldemort.
He and Draco never talked about the incident, if they ever talked at all. Harry had never been so connected and then so torn from another living being the way he had with Draco Malfoy. Part of him still ached, still felt those strange shimmering connections of power and emotion, especially after the dreams. But Draco hated him for losing control and killing his mother. And Harry hated himself for having killed everyone.
The veela had come for Draco shortly before Harry had recovered from the energy loss. They had taken the boy away, welcomed him into their tribe and given him a place of honor as an ambassador. Draco had stopped Voldemort from killing his veela brethren. Even though Draco had insisted from the beginning it had all been Harry's doing. Harry's unimaginable power. Harry's fault.
He knew it was true. Draco never would have made such a mistake. The blond was perfectly controlled even when full of a lust potion. Harry wasn't. He was just some explosive fuck up that couldn't figure out how to control his power.
After the dreams, He could almost understand why Draco had done it. Both of them starting their seventh year of school, Draco's veela friends coming down to wish the halfling farewell. He could understand why Draco would have sent those boys, cornering him in an empty classroom, glowing pale eyes at him until he could barely think straight. They had tried to touch him. Had wanted to break him. Rape him. No wonder Draco would want to hurt him as much as he hurt from losing his mother.
After the dreams, Harry wondered if it was wrong that he had fought back.
Sirius was waiting for Draco once he had finished his breakfast and found the nerve to check on Potter. It was still early morning, too early for Harry to be awake. Which only made it more surprising when he found his surly cousin sitting in a chair outside Harry's door, wide awake and glaring at him.
“Black,” Draco said as way of greeting, eyes straying towards the closed door and then to the man. Sirius had been cleared of all charges shortly after Harry had killed Voldemort, Pettigrew's body among the dead. He had taken to haunting Hogwarts. Draco had first thought it was a way to be next to Lupin, who had retaken the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor position, and then later figured out it had been to watch over Harry.
He could hardly blame the man. His godson was fucked in the head and needed all the watching he could get.
“What the hell happened to him, Malfoy?” Sirius asked, unfurling from the chair and straightening. He had a familiar menace in his eyes that always seemed to harden when looking at the blond. Draco had to assume Harry had told his godfather about the night they'd killed everyone. “Pomfrey told me some lust creature caught him in the forest. Was it one of yours? Are they still harassing him?”
“Harassing him?” Draco echoed, confused. The veela had shown a mild interest in Harry when Draco had explained how Voldemort had died by the boy's unmatchable power. But veela really fucking hated humans so Draco didn't think much about it. “Potter told me it was an enchancubus. A creature that changes its appearance to lure humans in. Not a veela,” Draco finally answered.
Sirius relaxed a bit, his glare losing some of its fire. “Fine,” he grunted. “Can you... Can you tell me how he's doing? I've been out here for hours, and apparently no one but you can even go near him.”
Realizing he was dealing with just another overly worried parent even if Sirius was not quite related to Harry, Draco nodded. “Give me a second. I'm sure he's sleeping but I can—”
“He's awake,” Sirius said grimly.
Draco blinked, hand clasping the back of his neck beneath his ponytail. “He was so full of calming draught—”
“Trust me, veela boy. Harry is awake, pacing, and likely breaking things. He can't be kept alone for long or he gets... twitchy.” Sirius snorted softly, glaring at the door to Harry's room. “Remus is off talking to Poppy, trying to figure out the creature that did this to Harry. We can't help him with the rogue...”
“And you know he won't let you hunt it yourselves,” Draco finished, rolling his eyes. Potter was such a fucking stubborn, reckless thing and clearly his godfather knew it too. “I'll be going with him today. There is no way I'm letting him out alone with that spell, or that damn enchancubus, for that matter.”
“Yes, well, Remus thought you might say something along those lines.” Again that piercing blue stare, as if trying to tear Draco apart for ever having touched Harry in the first place. Let the man glare. Potter was his and Draco wasn't letting the boy go.
“Get on the other side of the room, Black,” Draco said sharply, turning towards the door. Sirius did eventually, grumbling under his breath. He made sure he was still in line with the door, wanting to let Harry know he was there even if he couldn't help him at the moment.
Draco unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sure enough, Harry was awake, pacing topless, mid-step as he turned, relief on his face. Only to quickly scowl on seeing Draco.
“What the fuck do you want?” Harry grunted, hands on his hips. “Where's Siri? He always visits me when...” he trailed off, focusing behind Draco's wide shoulder. “Aw, crap. Better shut the door, then.”
Draco didn't bother looking behind him, able to scent that Potter's gruff godfather was more than a little aroused and fighting it. Draco shut the door behind him, making no move to go any further into the room. It was tight quarters as it was, Harry only getting a good five paces before hitting the wall and forced to turn. The room reeked of Potter, growing hornier and hornier as he just stood there. It was actually fascinating to watch if the damn scent wasn't so intoxicating and Harry wasn't so fucking sexy, golden skin healed and rippling toned muscles beneath.
“So, what the hell do you want?” Harry repeated angrily.
Draco wondered how long he could just stand there before the boy started punching. Probably not too long. Harry had torn off his cast, his arm healed and no longer in pain. He had also managed to rummage through the cabinets pulling blankets, one torn to shreds. There were feathers strewn about, a pillow not surviving whatever the hell was wrong with the kid.
“Honestly, I just wanted to see if your arm was better. I didn't know you'd be up,” Draco said mildly, watching Harry's expression become stormier with every careful word he said. He also smelled even nicer, the damn menace apparently having a thing for his voice. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” Harry snapped, pacing agitatedly, hand stuck in his messy hair. “I want out of this fucking room already.”
Draco nodded understandingly. “There's two ways that can happen.”
Harry stilled his movements, glaring spectacularly in his direction. Draco couldn't help but notice that Potter's eyes would not stay still when looking at him, green drifting down idly over his tall form.
“You can wait for Pomfrey to figure out that antidote—”
“No fucking way!” Harry snarled.
Draco smirked, not at all surprised. “Or you can let me escort you. Understanding that if we run into people, I will have to use my call to protect you.”
“Shit—You can't be serious!” Harry wailed loudly. He pushed his way to the door, Draco quickly stepping aside to keep from touching the brunette. “Siri! There's got to be another way!”
Black, who had apparently been on the other side of the fucking door the entire time, gave a loud growl. “Sorry, Harry. It's too strong of a spell. Let the damn veela help you for now. Remi's on the case and we'll have this sorted in no time.”
Draco raised a brow, not sure if he was glad to be considered a help or just sick of being referred to as a veela. “Potter, what do you want to eat?” He asked, ready to get the fuck away from Harry's very delicious, topless form.
“Shit, like I care? Just food, Malfoy.”
“Fine. Black, will you kindly back the fuck away again?” He snapped, slamming his hand on the door. Harry jumped from the sound, Draco glancing back to find the brunette biting the side of his thumb while staring blatantly at his ass. Fucking Potter. Draco threw the door open, shutting it too harshly behind him while trying to collect himself in the hall.
“Malfoy, if you lay a goddamn—”
“Finish that sentence and I will tear your fucking face off, cousin,” Draco warned lowly, hands combing fitfully through his hair as he tried to focus on the pain and not think about the fucking rabid thoughts of Harry gasping underneath him.
“Nice to see you two are getting along,” Remus said wryly, stepping in from the adjoining hall and softly closing the door. “Siri, maybe you should stop growling at the boy?”
“Like hell. He's clearly lusting over Harry. Why he's even allowed in this school with so many young students at risk, is beyond me.”
Draco hissed, pulling his hair harder, eyes glinting open to glare at the annoying man. “Want to lock me away, Black? At least when I lose control you don't have to worry about me turning people into slavering, vicious beasts.”
“You obnoxious, arrogant—”
“Enough,” Remus said, his normally mild voice steely with authority. “Whether we like it or not, Malfoy is the only one that can help Harry right now. Insulting him is not going to make that job any easier. Hell, Harry is going to make it tough enough.”
Draco and Sirius glared at each other, Sirius finally backed down with a huff. He tilted his head towards the exit, looking meaningfully back at Harry's door. Draco rolled his eyes, annoyed to realize the boy was probably listening to everything they were saying. He grudgingly followed when the men led him out into the hall.
“Can you control yourself, Malfoy?” Remus asked softly, not reacting when Draco scowled at the question. “He's enchanted and you're responding to him. You... you have difficulty with him. I know it and I'm sorry to ask this of you.”
“What the hell do you know of my difficulties, Lupin?” Draco growled back. Only to get a face full of Sirius when the man grabbed him by the collar.
“Do not talk to him that way, you arrogant sod!”
“Siri, stop—Shit,” Remus groaned, backpedaling when Draco's eyes started glowing in defense.
“Fucking... veela,” Sirius muttered, glaring as hard as he could until he couldn't any longer, his hand reaching up to touch Draco's face.
“Back off, you uppity bastard,” Draco ordered, pushing the man back with the flat of his hand. “Unless you want to be on your knees... That's what I thought.” Draco snapped his eyes shut, willing the pull to stop, hating that even rooms away he could feel Harry every time the pull glowed, the brunette's energy responding to his call.
“As you can both see, I am in control of myself,” he said too hoarsely.
“You're struggling,” Remus replied pointedly, glaring warningly at Sirius until the man growled and walked down the hall. “Harry's messing you up.”
Eyes narrowing on the man, Draco had to wonder when the hell he had become so bloody transparent. Two days ago no one would have dared suggest he could get messed up by Harry, having been a block of ice whenever around the boy. “I am not—”
“You are. Is it the spell on him? Is that the problem?”
Gritting his teeth, Draco shook his head. “There is no problem.”
Glancing to side at Sirius's quiet form, Remus leaned closer to speak into Draco's ear. “Malfoy, I have dealt with a lot of veela in my day and I know a lovesick one when I see it. And I do mean sick.” Hissing, Draco glared down at his boots. “Harry is fucking you up and if you can't handle his energy then you need to tell me now. Because if you hurt him, I will not be able to protect you from what his very explosive godfather is going to do to you.”
Draco really fucking hated werewolves with their over sensitive noses and goddamn perceptive brains. “I'm fine, Lupin.”
Draco growled, touching the back of his neck hastily. Sure enough, he was dripping sweat. “Shit—What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“You came out of his room like that,” Remus disclosed. “What did he say to you? Did he touch you? If you can single it out, maybe you can prevent it from repeating.”
Draco shook his head, not remembering anything particularly different. “He was bitching at me, like he always does. Reeking of sex, like he always fucking is. Pacing like a damn loon... He tore the room apart. Never seen him do that before,” he added offhandedly.
“He does that after nightmares,” Remus mussed. “Do your kind pick up on fear? Did you scent his nightmares?”
Draco shrugged, having no idea. “He poisons me enough with his twisted energy. If there is anything to smell besides sex on that kid, I have no fucking clue.”
Sirius made a growling sound, Remus shooting him a warning look. “He does reek of sex and you know it. For months now, ever since...” He trailed off, brown eyes fixing on Draco's meaningfully.
“You know what would make this worlds easier?” Sirius grumbled, stomping back towards the two of them. “If someone would tell us what the hell happened that night. What broke him so? Why he won't even say your bloody name without his face twisting in so much hurt that I want to break something—Namely you!” He slammed his hand down on the wall beside Draco, glaring menacingly.
“Fuck off, Black. If he doesn't want to tell you, that's his business.” Draco could had sworn Harry had told them. Could not understand why he hadn't because these two annoying, over-protective men would clearly do anything for the boy.
“He is hurting and won't let us help him,” Sirius growled. “All he will say is that he hates veela, and I wish it was just you and I could know for certain, but it's not. He hates them all and I can't, for the life of me, figure out what an entire race of people could have done to him.”
Again a flutter of worry wormed its way into Draco's gut, his mind stuttering on the idea of Harry and his veela brethren. Harry had never met his people. He had been nearly dead when Draco had gone off to meet them and learn their ways. The only opportunity would have been when a small group had traveled with him to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year, but they had been with him in the Slytherin dorms the entire time. Draco had kept close tabs on them, realizing just how little they thought of the humans in the castle.
“I don't know what to tell you, cousin. He has plenty of reason to hate me. Reasons he can tell you if he chooses. I sure as hell won't speak them,” Draco muttered, pushing away from the wall.
“Please, Malfoy,” Remus spoke up, his damn eyes brimming with concern. “He's hurting so badly. If we knew what happened...”
“What? You think you can fix it?” Draco closed his eyes, smirking humorlessly. “There's no fixing it. I fucked up; he killed everyone. Whenever he looks at me he will see seventeen dead people staring back. He will never stop hating me and I... Well, I deserve it.” He took a step backwards, turning on his heel.
“What are you saying?” Sirius said gruffly, grabbing Draco by the arm before he could leave.
Draco flinched from the touch, fingers twitching with the urge to tear the man's hand away. “I was damn clear, Black. I fucked up.”
“He said it was on purpose. That he killed all of them to escape. They were going to kill you and him, and he had to do the worst.”
“Yeah, well, Potter lies a lot,” Draco grunted, pulling from the hold. “You-Know-Who was the only one that was supposed to die.” And he would've been, if Draco hadn't been so weak.
Harry's power had been so great, so dazzling to his senses, he could not contain his own. He had lost control of the room, lost his focus on Voldemort, and everyone had been pulled in to Harry's death blow. He had killed his mother, had killed parents to his friends, relatives and strangers all because he had been too weak. And then Harry had shouldered the burden, like the idiotic martyr that he was, and quickly deteriorated from the weight of it all.
Draco walked away before anymore questions could be asked, ducking around corners and into a corridor, heading for the Great Hall and some proper food for Harry.
That he had thrown himself into schoolwork and prefect duties while managing to not speak to the many students with relatives he had killed was hardly a consequence in comparison. Because he was some weird, half veela freak to be avoided. Stared at most of the time because students couldn't help but stare, and the rest of the time because they hated him for the attention he got. Some—like Goyle and Parkinson—actually thought he was just like them, losing both parents in one night. Not knowing Draco had been the reason their parents had died. Not knowing he had killed his own father intentionally in a fit of rage so complete, he still could not remember fully how he had done it.
Draco refused to talk with any of his old friends anymore and they didn't seem to mind. He frightened them with his new powers. Slytherins had never been big on halflings to begin with even though their histories were soaked in them. He didn't mind being an outcast. He found it easier than pretending.
Harry could lie all he liked while Draco didn't bother. He knew there was a darkness inside him and had no wish to corrupt anyone else with it. He had already hurt so many and his heart—His heart still longed for the one he had hurt the most. It was better if he was alone. He had broken the beautiful boy and did not deserve to be near him anymore.
Touching his energy had destroyed something in Harry's head. It had made the brunette smell of sex and lash out like some wild animal. Whatever he was, it would surely only hurt others.
Harry's return to the Forbidden Forest was very different from yesterday's. For one, he was dressed appropriately, if not somewhat embarrassingly. Dumbledore had insisted on armor if he was determined to return to the hunt. Fine enough, but it was the charmed, lightweight stuff that did not work with additional clothing. He was in skintight leather pants—and he did stress skintight because every time he caught a glimpse of Malfoy it was very clear there was nothing left for the imagination. Harry had made sure to use a concealing charm on his, not interested in revealing to his silent companion just how fucking hot he thought the Slytherin looked in his armor. They wore no shirts, their vitals covered by heavy fire hide that held so much heat he found himself sweating even with his arms and sides exposed. Along with the strong leather boots, his outfit allowed him to be completely limber and silent in movement and he knew if anything tried to grab onto him, it would have a difficult time holding.
He had not expected Malfoy to come along, having hoped the boy would stay behind and play nursemaid for the parents still roaming the school. He wasn't sure what to anticipate, having not been in the forest with the boy for many years. Distracting was a word that kept jumping to mind, especially when Draco would suddenly dash ahead, crouching low, sometimes wrestling something to the ground, sometimes stunning it instead with his wand. Very fucking distracting in leather pants and a nearly bare back, his spine and shoulder blades covered by the armor and not much else from the backside.
They had been able to leave the castle without incident, Madame Pomfrey clearing their path of students and teachers before he was even let out of his room. An absolute relief, given that he had still been dizzy from feeling the trickle of Draco's pull when the boy had been arguing with Sirius and had not wanted to repeat the daze. His godfather had this grudge against Draco and most Slytherins in general and Harry hadn't felt arsed to do much about it. The more people that took his side in thinking Malfoy was a prat to be avoided, the better.
Walking into another low hanging branch when Malfoy suddenly appeared out of the foliage to carefully float a sunning snake off of the path, Harry cursed heatedly under his breath, glaring at the boy. Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at him, silver eyes lingering just a little too long on his bare arms and tight pants and then looked away, stunning something that was about to drop out of a tree on top of him.
“You know, if you bitch a little louder, I'm sure half these critters would run at the sound of you,” Draco said offhandedly, stilling so Harry could catch up.
“Well, we can't all be fucking tiptoed ballerinas out here,” Harry snapped back, every step he took somehow five times louder than the taller, heavier boy's.
“Bitter, are we?” Draco asked, spinning his wand idly between his fingers. “You're actually not that loud. Except for all the swearing. That is quite loud and likely going to get us killed.”
“Actually, it's going to keep the smarter things away,” Harry said, stomping his foot down and scaring off whatever had been rustling in a bush up ahead.
“And the stupid things that just think you sound like bumbling prey?” Draco asked, eyebrow raised.
“They're stupid and deserve what I do to them,” Harry said with a shrug. He had not had to actually attack anything just yet, Malfoy ridiculously efficient and alert to every goddamn thing around them. As if to prove just how damn alert Draco was, the boy suddenly shot his hand out, just missing Harry's face as he caught something.
“You just got yourself stung by a bee, didn't you?” Harry commented, watching Draco's face twist in a grimace of pain.
Draco nodded, his fist tightening. “I can't always turn it off.”
Harry found himself staring at the boy, Draco's eyes sharpening as they looked towards something only he could hear. “Do you like it in the forest, being half veela and all?”
Draco nodded, his hand opening to drop the dead insect, eyes glancing back to Harry's. “It's peaceful, yet alive with danger. Wakes me up. Gives all these damn senses a reason to sense.” Glancing down, he very carefully plucked a feather that had managed to fall on the brunette's shoulder, smirking slightly. “Hell, you're even bearable out here.”
He didn't know if he should be angry or go with the more annoying feeling of arousal to have Malfoy looking at him that way. Anger won and he glared, stepping ahead and stunning the next damn thing that dared move.
“We're coming up on the clearing,” Harry said after another fifteen minutes of silent walking. The trip had been faster this time, Malfoy clearing the path easily. He did his best not to feel impressed. “I want you to hang back and let me deal with Dren. He's not expecting company and I don't want to overwhelm him.”
“Your guide?” Draco asked, again suddenly at his shoulder as if he hadn't just been wrestling something half a yard back. Harry glanced over to the boy, Draco's face flushed, eyes glowing slightly. It must be the forest. Malfoy really did just come alive out there in all the green.
“Don't get too close to him,” Harry said, stopping suddenly as he saw the tall guardian tree rising up in the distance. “He weaves magic and I have a feeling he'd have no qualms using it on you.”
“Weaves?” Draco's eyes narrowed, Harry watching with interest when the boy suddenly stepped away and sneered. “When you say weave, do you mean...?”
“There's only one type of fucking magic that weaves,” Harry said bluntly, refusing to get into it. “I don't know if you'll be immune or even more susceptible. Not interested in finding out. He might look like somebody you know. Someone you might, well... you'll see.” He shrugged another annoying feeling away.
Whoever Malfoy saw when looking at the enchancubus, it would be someone he'd want to fuck. Badly. So much so that a simple lust spell could make him give in. Harry had determined that Malfoy was never going to look at him the way he did that fucked up night almost a year ago when dosed with a lust spell. It didn't mean he wanted to see the boy look at Dren that way. Or at anyone else, for that matter.
“Trust me, Potter, whatever the damn thing is, I won't be getting caught in any weaving,” Draco said haughtily, a hard note in his voice.
Now at the edge of the clearing, Harry could make out Dren, sitting bored under the tree, staring up at the branches dotted with heavy, blue fruit. He went to step into the glade, surprised when Draco grabbed his shoulder and held him still.
“Potter, when you say he might look like someone...”
Harry glanced the boy's way, Draco glaring at Dren's calm form. “Anyone you know?” He asked, eyes following, taking in Dren's very long, white-blond hair and bright pale skin.
Draco pulled his gaze away, glancing at Harry and then quickly letting his shoulder go. “I don't want to say.”
“That's your right,” he said with a shrug, having no interest in telling Malfoy that Dren looked just like him. He stepped into the clearing, catching the softest of humming as he approached the boy. Even though he wasn't as quiet as Malfoy, he was apparently quiet enough to still sneak up on Dren, the enchancubus giving a small start when he came into view.
“Hi, Dren,” Harry said, keeping his distance when the boy jumped to his feet.
“Pretty one, I was wondering if you were going to make it. You look... Well, I'd say prepared, but for what, I'm not so sure.” the enchancubus smiled seductively, taking in his armor and leather, walking around him slowly. Harry held his hand up when Dren tried to touch him, shaking his head.
“Dren, you cast a spell on me. I need you to remove it.” He spoke evenly, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He did not wish to upset the creature, just get the damn spell off of him.
“Has it not worked?” Dren asked, full of disbelief. “Harry, it was potent. That spell has never failed to...” He trailed off, head turning as Draco suddenly stalked into the glade. “You brought someone?”
“To help with the rogue,” Harry muttered, annoyed that Malfoy had completely ignored what he had said and had come in without being signaled.
“Potter, get away from him,” Draco demanded, his wand raised and pointed straight at Dren.
“Malfoy, put your fucking wand down. I don't need your goddamn help and I sure as fuck don't need you scaring our guide.”
“He is weaving a spell. Now get the fuck away,” Draco said tightly, his eyes never leaving Dren's face.
Except, to Draco, Dren was shorter, making it look to Harry like he was glaring at the boy's mouth. Harry suppressed a very inappropriate smile, glancing back and forth between the two lookalikes. He was feet away from a Malfoy sandwich, the idea more than interesting when it was suddenly standing before him.
As if reading his mind, both blonds turned to stare at him at the same time, Dren smirking as he eyed Harry, Draco very much glaring in frustration. “For fuck sake, Potter, must you smell like that right now?” Draco snarled angrily.
Harry scratched the back of his head, brows furrowed. “Smell?”
Draco threw his hands up in exasperation. “Yes, smell! No wonder you're being accosted out in the goddamn forest. Every time a beast comes near you, you start reeking of sex. Is there something wrong with your bloody wiring? Do deadly, vicious creatures just do it for you? This damn doppelganger is trying to get into your pants and you're damn near giving him reason, you bloody imbecile!”
Glaring at the exasperated boy, Harry raised his chin defiantly. He did not get off on vicious beasts, so much as watching Draco in skin tight clothing kill said beasts. It was an extremely arousing sight and he did not feel embarrassed by the fact at all even if he would not be explaining it to the blond. “What exactly are you saying, Malfoy? That you can smell when I get hard?”
“Right, focus on that tidbit in all of this,” Draco hissed. “Not that you're drooling over every goddamn monster I killed on the way here. No, apparently me being able to smell your overwhelming sex scent is the point in everything I said.”
“You do smell very nice, pretty one,” Dren said softly, eyes following as Draco waved his wand in frustration. “Why don't you leave your friend here, and I can help you deal with all that—”
“Back off, you bloody manipulative predator,” Draco growled, renewing his target on the enchancubus. “If you touch him, so help me, you will not live to regret it.”
“Malfoy, seriously, I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but you better fucking stop it.” Harry stepped between the two, forcing Draco's arm down and glaring up at the boy who was still fixing a death gaze at Dren.
“Tell him to take the spell off of you, Potter. We will deal with the rest after,” Draco said tightly.
Harry huffed. “That's what I was trying to do when you fucking interrupted. Stop being a damn nuisance.” He turned to Dren, trying to look apologetic instead of pissed. “Dren, I really need that spell taken off of me.”
Staring at Draco warily, Dren gave a small sigh. “I cannot, Harry. It is the type of magic that must run its course. I did not expect it would have lasted this long even. The spell is very strong.”
“Er... What exactly was the spell, Dren? You never really explained the point of it all,” Harry said worriedly, anxiety building. It didn't help that Malfoy was growling, sounding more like an overprotective Sirius at the moment.
“Isn't it obvious, Potter? The damn thing wants to fuck you,” Draco said sharply, his arm again twitching as if to raise his wand. Harry grabbed it without looking, keeping his eyes trained on Dren in front of him.
“Shut up, Malfoy. Siccing a castle full of students on me just doesn't really align with that idea. Dren, please. You said it was to help me find someone. I thought you had meant the rogue, but I can see that was really dumb now.” Harry ignored Draco's huff, tightening his grip when the blond made to pull away.
“No, that would not be a wise spell indeed, Harry,” Dren said with a weak smile. “It is a spell to help the one you see when you look at me pay you some attention, that's all. You're a very pretty thing and it just seems a shame that you are being ignored. Once he kisses you, the spell will cease.”
Heart beating in his chest, Harry very slowly stepped away from a loudly growling Draco, releasing the boy's arm in the process. “Dren, please tell me there is another way.” He couldn't kiss Malfoy. He couldn't tear that raw wound open any wider than it already was after yesterday and the damn dream again and just—No. He just couldn't do it.
“Stop your damn whimpering, Potter. After we kill the rogue, we'll hunt down the stupid sod of a boy and have him kiss you,” Draco muttered, pocketing his wand. “Just a kiss, right? Nothing else?”
“Just a kiss,” Dren agreed, eyes following as Harry swayed unsteadily. “Although, if the spell has caused him such trouble, I have to wonder if there isn't something off about his boy. Why would so many chase him when it was meant for only one?”
“Potter plus magic never ends in the results you expect,” Draco muttered under his breath, also watching as Harry continued to stare at his shoes, blinking dumbly. He reached over, poking the brunette's shoulder, the boy starting and nearly falling over in his surprise. “Who's the boy, Potter?”
Harry blanched, stepping away. “No one, Malfoy. It's... Just forget it,” he whispered hollowly, wishing he had never come into the forest, had never found the glade, and had never, ever, ever seen Dren up in the tree.
“Forget it? Scarhead, I am not spending the rest of my school year following you around just to keep the students off of you,” Draco snapped, folding his arms over his chest. Harry couldn't help but notice that the blond's voice had a hard edge to it as if he was fighting back the urge to start hexing things. “What's the big fucking deal? One kiss to stop all the pawing you hate so much. It seems like a breeze.”
“I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't realize it would be so difficult on you,” Dren said softly, reaching a hand to gently touch the boy's shoulder. “The spell truly should work. Just find your Draco and he will...”
Harry winced, ducking his head and refusing to look at the suddenly very motionless Slytherin. “Dren, could you not, like, talk right now?” He mumbled weakly. Could this day get any fucking worse?
“Potter?” Draco growled, voice full of something he did not wish to try and identify.
“Shut up, Malfoy. Just fucking let it drop and leave me the fuck alone,” he said lowly, glaring over at Dren.
“Like fuck.” Draco snagged Harry by the collar of his armor, pulling the boy back. “He looks like me?”
Harry glared, fighting the too strong grip. “So? Who the fuck cares? It's just some goddamn enchantment.”
Draco grinned widely, revealing sharp, pointed fangs. “Yeah? Then why the fuck could I smell him all over you?”
“God dammit, I fucking can't stand you!” Harry shouted, tearing at his armor until the blond relented and released him. “Shit, you couldn't fucking let it go, could you? Just had to stick your nose where it didn't belong—I'm not fucking kissing you, Malfoy. It'll be a cold day in hell before I let you anywhere near my lips, you arrogant pain in the ass!”
“Stop. Just, everyone please calm down.” Eyes wide, Dren carefully pulled Harry away, placing the boy behind him so he could rest on the tree and regain his composure. “I am beginning to see where things have gone wrong, pretty one. He is similar to me.”
“Hardly,” Draco glared, making no move to approach even though his fingers were twitching on his wand again. “I'm half veela and impervious to most sex magic. Your spell must have bounced off me and is hitting everyone else.”
“It is a very simple solution,” Dren said, looking confused that neither boy seemed interested in it. “It's just a kiss. A conscious mixing of saliva and desires.”
“Yes, well, we are not simple people,” Draco snapped bitterly.
“But you must see him as well, pale one! I can see it in your eyes—You see Harry when you gaze upon me. Why are you two so full of anger and spite?”
Draco grunted, glaring at Harry and then abruptly walking away towards the edge of the glade. He paced their agitatedly, swearing under his breath.
“Just drop it, Dren,” Harry muttered, wishing he was surprised that Malfoy saw him as well, but he wasn't. He was fucking doomed to be tied to Draco at every goddamn turn and still never truly have him.
“It doesn't make sense, Harry. The two of you—You are drawn to each other. You are—”
“Seriously, just stop.” He sighed wearily, running a hand through his hair. “We came here to kill the rogue. This other shit can wait for now. We're losing daylight, and... Hell, I'm already tired. Whatever you're taking with you, gather it. It's time to go.”
Biting his lip, Dren nodded curtly. He ducked behind the trunk of the tree, wrapping a cloak with a hood over him, his face hidden from sight. Harry immediately felt some relief, not realizing just how distracting it was to live in a world where two gorgeous Draco Malfoy's could coexist. Shaking his head, he checked his hip for his wand and blades, following after the enchancubus.
They walked in silence, Harry following Dren closely while Draco slipped into the trees around them, using his unique senses to sight any danger. That Malfoy had chosen to play shadow guard was a great relief, the extra distance definitely the defining factor in them not arguing and Harry not getting distracted. He was having a hard enough time trying to shut his brain down from its constant ramblings back to the fucked up revelations of earlier. He was going to have to kiss the prat. If he wanted to be able to walk through the castle unaccosted, he was going to have to kiss Malfoy.
He wasn't sure there would ever be a moment when that idea was not full of dread and pain. Kissing Dren, if the enchancubus had allowed it, would not have been like kissing Malfoy and not just because Dren did not know how to kiss like the blond. No, it was because veela connected with energy, Harry remembering very well what that felt like. He would not just be kissing Malfoy's lips, he would be kissing his essence, and that, after being so connected and then violently torn from it once before, just seemed completely cruel and brutal. That Malfoy agreed, glaring and now killing more than stunning whatever got in their way, only highlighted the reality of how terrible a situation he had gotten them both into.
Once near its hunting lands, the rogue's influence in the woods was very obvious. The destruction alone with no care of the victims, was a sign that this animal was not in its right mind. Dren had called it the maddened one and it surely was.
Harry stilled as they cleared a hill, the body of some sort of large animal coming into sight among the fallen leaves of a dead tree. Its stomach had been gutted, entrails spilling onto the ground in a gory path. Looking closely, besides the attack wounds, Harry could find no signs of it being touched. Unusual for a corpse a few days old in the life filled forest.
“None will feed on his prey,” Dren said softly, eyes sliding around cautiously. “It reeks of his taint.”
Harry nodded in understanding. The children attacked by the rogue had all fallen to a strange illness that left them delusional and violent. The main reason he was out there was to recover the rogue's body so Madame Pomfrey could find some sort of cure. Harry stepped around the gutted feline, careful not to disturb the earth near it, pausing mid step. He raised his hand, signaling to Draco silently ahead while indicating to Dren to step back. He waited until he could sense Draco motionless and waiting before carefully using his wand to blow a breeze of air, clearing the pile of leaves and dirt around the body.
Seven small bodies lay on the ground. Two birds that had died from tasting the corpse and five young cubs. Harry bit his lip, exhaling sharply as he realized the mother had died protecting her children. For some inexplicable reason, he was reminded of Narcissa Malfoy and his own mother, something twisting inside him at the thought. Three of the cubs were definitely dead, their bodies collapsing in on them once their life had fled. He wasn't sure, but he thought the other two breathing shallowly could be saved if they acted quickly enough.
“They are cursed,” Dren warned, tugging at Harry's shoulder. “Once touched by the maddened one, death is welcome.”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry watched the slow movement of breath from the two balls of fur stained with dirt and their mother's blood. “They're not wounded, just undernourished. If I leave them, they'll die of exposure like the other three.” He crouched lower, crooning softly so as not to startle the sleeping duo. He cast a few healing spells on each and a charm for serendipity to help them hold on until Madame Pomfrey could care for them properly.
“How much further to its lair?” Harry asked, peering ahead where he could just make out Malfoy, the boy facing out towards the forest.
“Nearly half an hour if walking at this pace.”
Straightening, Harry cast a shielding spell on the two cubs and carefully covered them back in the leaves. They would only be a handicap for the battle ahead, and he was done with unnecessary deaths. “Be strong, little ones. I'll be back soon.” Ignoring Dren's disapproving look, he signaled to Malfoy that they were ready to move. Hopefully the cubs would still be alive by the time they had dealt with the rogue.
Harry couldn't trust Dren to help him in the battle. If the enchancubus was a warrior, he hid it well. So far he had only seen Dren use innate sex magic. He didn't move the same way Malfoy did out of the glade, instead his steps tense and anxious with too much noise. He was hoping the guide would not be a hindrance once the fighting began. If Dren spent all his time hiding in the glade luring prey in, he may not be competent to defend himself outside of his home, even if living in the Forbidden Forest. There was probably a reason why Dren's kind were so rare.
Catching Draco's signal, Harry threw his arm out and halted Dren. He scanned the trees carefully, eyes falling on another body of a beast to the left, its dark fur too thick to decipher. But Malfoy wasn't looking at the corpse. He was staring off ahead, his wand drawn and form tense in anticipation. Harry followed his gaze, sighting the movement far in the distance through the trees. From here he couldn't tell what it was but he could see the creature was agitated, throwing itself into trees and bushes, stopping to roll on the the ground and snap at its own shoulders. The coloring was wrong, too light to be the rogue. But it may have caught the madness if it had survived an attack, and it was clearly a threat.
They all watched motionless as the creature made its lumbering approach, running into every obstacle in reach. They kept silent, hoping to avoid confrontation. It could be blind, for all its crashing and tripping. Yards away from Draco, close enough to make out the blood matting the wolf's bright gray pelt, that notion was dismissed when the creature noticed them.
“Garruth,” Dren muttered, eyes softening to something akin to pity. “He has been tainted. The forest will mourn greatly at his loss.”
Warning shooting up his spine, Harry had only a moment to catch Draco's eyes focus behind him in shock before a body crashed into him, thick fur tickling his skin even as unrelenting steel muscle threw him to the ground. Harry tried to use the momentum to roll, but his attacker was far too heavy and he felt his left arm snap when he jarred into the ground, suffocated by heat and fur.
Time slowed as gaping jaws filled with rows of dripping teeth and scalding breath came at his face. Harry's body moved without conscious thought. In an instant his right hand was grasping the furry jaw, his wand biting into his palm while it was crushed into the beast's throat. His power channeled through his arm and into his hand, exploding out and momentarily blinding him as flesh splattered down in a gory, hot rain.
His brain jarred to reality, screaming that the gray wolf was still approaching and far too close to Malfoy for him to be able to help. The full weight of his overgrown attacker slumped limp, its black fur threatening to smother him. Fighting his initial panic, Harry choked out a Wingardium Leviosa, the body wrenching and jolting, so heavy it didn't want to float. He forced the thing away, barely acknowledging the chunks of flesh that had slipped through his armor and were squelching against his skin. Rolling, he stumbled to his feet one-handedly, looking frantically around until he found Draco wrestling with the wolf, Dren frozen and staring at the scene in horror.
Running unsteadily, Harry hit the wolf with numerous stunners, careful to avoid hurting Draco. He broke through the heavy underbrush, thorns sliding over his boots ineffectively, dagger already in hand as he noticed the spells were having no effect on the magical being. He was only feet away when Draco gave a sudden, power filled shout and sent the creature careening, the wolf crunching sickeningly into a tree trunk.
Harry stood panting, trying to push down the very annoying feeling of panic that he had just been full of, not to mention the quickly rising desire from seeing Malfoy throw something twice his weight across the damn forest with ease. The boy was fucking strong.
Growling at his fucked up head, Harry sheathed his dagger and crouched beside the blond. “Did it bite you?” He asked roughly.
Silver eyes suddenly snapped to his, Harry freezing under the heated stare. Malfoy was in half glow, feathers just starting to peak through his hair, talons fully formed, fangs long and sharp. Harry cautiously sat back, not sure if Draco was all there just yet, the boy full of blood lust and forest. And then the blond was suddenly gone, moving so swiftly, Harry could barely track his movements only to find Draco stopped in front of the wolf he had thrown.
Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Harry got back to his feet, turning and checking on Dren. The enchancubus was unharmed, if not a bit green tinged from all the blood.
“Keep watch,” Harry ordered, the cloaked boy trembling but nodding in reply. Harry returned to his attacker, eyes running over the dark beast. It was the rogue and it looked about as dead as you could get. Its throat was the equivalent of a mangled pile of hamburger but Harry still checked for breathing. He had already been fooled once by thinking it was dead and would not make the mistake again.
The wolf, Garruth, was alive and conscious. Its back was broken, blood dripping from its muzzle where it had bit its tongue. There was a sharpness to his eyes reflecting intelligence when he approached. Malfoy was on the other side of the tree, not speaking, not moving, barely breathing. Harry spared the boy a glance, hoping he wasn't going full veela in the middle of the damn forest.
“Do you speak?” Harry asked the wolf, careful to stay out of reach of its fangs.
The wolf huffed for air, a low growl ripping from its throat. Kill me.
Harry rolled his eyes. It was always death or honor with some sorts and he found it absolutely useless. “Why did you attack us?”
Harry stepped back from its snapping jaws and scowled. “Answer the fucking question. Why did you attack? Are you tainted and unable to control yourself, or are you just a massive dick, hurting anyone that comes your way?” When the wolf continued to growl, Harry turned. “Dren! Can you vouch for him?”
“Yes. He's...” Dren swallowed hard, stepping up slowly. “He is experiencing the first signs of the madness. We should honor his wish for death.”
“Like fuck,” Harry muttered, kicking a tree root. “Malfoy, you got your shit together yet? We might have a live test subject if you're willing to not go all murderous veela on him.”
When Draco didn't respond, Harry chanced another peek the boy's way. From the angle, all he could see was Draco holding his wrist, and he quickly rounded the tree to make sure the boy hadn't been bit. “Are you tainted? We can—Crap.” Harry groaned, Draco's eyes very much burning molten silver as they moved over him.
“Potter, was it because he looked like me?” Draco asked quietly, his voice sliding across Harry's ears like the softest, most exquisite silk.
“W-What?” Harry asked, trying to fight the pull slowly curling up his legs, warm trickles of desire that had no place being there at the moment. Except that he got really hot when seeing Malfoy beat the crap out of things and the blond could apparently smell it on him.
“You let him touch you. You don't let anyone touch you.” Draco reached his hand out, peeling a chunk of slick fur and flesh off of Harry's chest, the brunette whimpering from the contact of warm fingers. “I want to know what made him so fucking special that you would let him touch you.”
Feeling very weak in the knees all of a sudden, Harry struggled to step away. Draco wouldn't let him, fingers clasping around one of the metal buckles connecting the leather of his armor, holding him in place. “Malfoy... you're losing your shit,” Harry gasped out, fighting another groan when Draco roughly pulled him close, armor knocking into armor.
“Tell me... Tell me it was because he looked like me,” Draco whispered, mouth breathing hot air over Harry's ear and neck. “Tell me that you'd never want another unless you thought they were me.”
Whining low in the back of his throat, Harry fought to keep his eyes shut against the searing silver. “Get... bent.”
Draco growled, claws prickling the boy's skin as he grabbed Harry's hips and pulled him tight against his body. “Damn you—Let me have this one fucking thing, Potter! Before I lose my mind. Just tell me. Please, my beautiful... please?” He finished, his anger fading to plead softly in Harry's ear.
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, hating the vulnerability in Draco's voice, the absolute, unignorable raw need. Why was he doing this? Why the fuck did the boy have to care that he had thought of him when with Dren? Why, after months of ignoring him beyond their occasional spats of angry bickering, did Malfoy have to touch him and call him beautiful? He hated him. Malfoy hated him and would never forgive him, so why was he doing this?
“Please. Can you feel how crazy it makes me? To know you... you touched someone. Let someone touch you.” Draco ran his hands up Harry's sides, burrowing his face against the boy's neck. “You let someone taste you. Hear your cries of pleasure. Those are mine, Harry.”
Harry moaned, Draco's mouth opening wide, teeth scraping against the skin of his throat, palms grasping his flesh hard. His heart ached and flesh burned all at once, and he could not understand how he had ever confused Dren for Draco. Draco's hands were so much stronger, so forceful and passionate, his energy rising up in a haze of shimmery silver to pull him down into the absolute heat and darkness of his desire.
“Can you feel it?” Draco growled, fingers digging into Harry's back and dragging down over his muscles. “How deep it runs. How strong it is. That is how far you reach into me.”
“Oh god, Draco,” Harry gasped, his body shaking uncontrollably. How did he do this to him with just one touch? Just twisted him round, stole all his reason and anger and the last of his fucking sanity—So damn easily.
“You're still mine, right? You're still my beautiful one?” Draco asked, despair brimming in his voice, infecting the energy surrounding the two until all Harry could feel was the boy's unceasing pain. “Please, Harry. Please... I need you.”
Swallowing hard, Harry pushed weakly at Draco's shoulders. “You're... you're sick, Malfoy. I c-can feel it. It's, uh, it's on your chest and it's fucking with your head.”
“No!” Draco snarled, pulling Harry's head back by his hair. “This is real. This is how I... how I feel for you.”
“He bit you,” Harry whispered, turning his face away before Draco could kiss and infect him too. “I can feel it in your energy. It's spreading.”
“Why won't you listen to me? Do I mean so fucking little to you?” Draco cupped the boy's face, fingers biting in, voice full of sorrow. “I know I... I hurt you. I know I took what wasn't mine... But god, I felt it, Harry. All those new senses all said you wanted me back. That you—That you cared. Didn't you feel me too? Couldn't you feel how deep you reached inside me?”
Harry did not know when he had started crying, just that it was difficult to keep his eyes shut fully while fighting tears. “You have to let me go, Draco. I can get you back, but you have to calm down.”
“I don't want to go back. I will die in this fucking forest if I have to,” Draco hissed out. “Just tell me, beautiful. I need to know you can still feel me. That... that I'm not alone with this... this unbearable ache inside.”
Sobbing from the full weight of that ache, Harry refused to answer. And then, when he felt the taller boy dip his head to kiss him, he quickly covered his mouth. “Saliva. You're infectious. I need you to step back,” he whispered hollowly. “You need to stun yourself so that I can get you to the castle safely. Please, Draco.”
Harry fought the urge to open his eyes, fought the desire to see if Draco truly looked as real as he sounded because surely it was just the quickly spiraling madness of the rogue's illness flowing through the halfling's veins. Draco pulled away with a groan, Harry listening intently for signs that he might run or attack or just hurt himself like all the infected did. But none of that came, just one spell, Draco stunning himself and quickly crumpling to the ground.
Eyes cracking open, Harry stared down, wiping viciously at his wet cheeks. He could still feel it inside, the unbearable ache, the need for the boy he had tried so hard to stomp down inside. It was misery; hot and cold, full and empty, and just too much to bear for one person.
“What a fucking shit couple of days,” he muttered, crouching and arranging Draco so he wasn't curled up uncomfortably. “Dren! I'm going to have to move fast and you're going to have to help carry.” Harry glared up, Draco's face peering down at him from beneath Dren's hood.
“I do not know if it would be wise for me to enter your castle,” Dren answered guardedly under the brunette's angry eye.
“I'll protect you,” Harry said gruffly, inspecting the row of teeth marks on Draco's chest that had just missed his armor. “I'm going to knock your friend out and then float the three of them. I just need some help guiding them through the trees. One of my arms is broken and there are still the cubs to recover. I will escort you back to your tree later, if you like,” he added, straightening.
Dren nodded hesitantly, looking down at Draco's unconscious form. “You were very cruel to him, pretty one. I think... I think you are both very cruel to each other.”
Harry stilled, hand curling into a fist. “You don't understand, Dren, and I'm not going to explain it. He's just fucked in the head from the madness. He never would have said those things otherwise.” He forced himself to move, stunning the wolf and binding its muzzle just in case it managed to wake and snap at one of them.
“You're wrong, Harry. You two are connected.” Dren bent, carefully lifting Draco up, his natural form apparently strong enough for that much. “That you can ignore his pain, never mind your own... There is something wrong about it.”
Harry gritted his teeth, wishing the boy would just shut the fuck up. Because it wasn't just Dren, it was Malfoy taunting in his ear some goddamn lie about affection.
Dren shook his head when Harry merely floated Garruth up, bound and trailing behind him. “Why do you do it, Harry? It must hurt you to hurt him. You two are nearly joined—”
“Stop it, Dren. Just shut up!” Harry growled, rounding angrily. “So what if it fucking hurts? Being with him hurts so much more. I'd rather just hate myself and be done with it.”
“No! Either help me or leave. I don't need another damn distraction.” Harry turned back to bind the corpse of the rogue, not caring what the damn enchancubus did.
He never should have come here. He should have stayed in bed yesterday and never thought to step out into the Forbidden Forest in search of the rogue. But Hermione had nearly knocked down his door when the attack happened, and had mentioned so goddamn coyly that Malfoy was supposed to be out hunting as well that he had given in just for the fucking chance to have some small closeness to the boy. And then Malfoy hadn't showed, instead being asked to deal with parents. Harry had realized he was such a damn fool once again, getting sucked into whatever shit fantasy he had in his head that he and Draco could ever make things work. He couldn't even get along with a damn Malfoy doppelganger that was hundreds of times more pleasant than the Slytherin.
God, he was such a fucking fool.
“Ready?” Harry snapped, turning on his heal once he had gotten the rogue situated. Dren looked back at him dolefully and Harry suppressed a sigh.
“Did you wish to carry him?” Dren asked, heaving Draco onto his shoulder. Harry frowned at the question, stepping closer to inspect Draco's back. The blond had gotten scratched up when the wolf had knocked him to the ground, blood dripping down. He healed the cut, then charmed the boy to float.
“You carry him for now. I'll take the cubs once we get to them,” Harry muttered, trailing the two beasts behind him and urging the enchancubus forward. Holding Malfoy was a bad idea even when unconscious. His fucked up head didn't care if Draco could lie through his teeth over something like wanting him. It was better just to separate and avoid the boy from then on. He had managed to get Draco infected by a madness and stuck as the target to a rebounded lust spell within two days. He had done enough wrong.
Getting back into Hogwarts was far more difficult than leaving, Draco not conscious to stop the very interested students in the hall from following Harry as he raced towards the infirmary. Dren also seemed incapable of helping even though he could at least control himself. The enchancubus immediately pulled his hood down over his face when entering the castle, Draco still safely in his arms, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
“Madame Pomfrey!” Harry shouted on entering the main room of the hospital ward and locking the door behind them, the witch nowhere to be found. There was a loudly clacking bell just for such an occasion and Harry brutally began to clang it until the mediwitch appeared in one of the connecting doorways frowning, only to flush and abruptly shut the door.
“Crap,” Harry muttered, realizing there was no way he could be in the room while Malfoy was being healed. He walked over to the closed door, speaking to the healer on the other side. “Malfoy's been infected. The black dead one is the rogue—Pretty sure the original carrier. The wolf is another victim and willing to be tested on. The guy in the robe is the enchancubus and if he gives you any trouble, tell me and I'll deal with him. Oh, and there are two baby cubs that need to be nursed and kept warm.” Harry winced inwardly, realizing he had just dumped a lot of work into the mediwitch's lap, the woman always complaining loudly about it.
“Mr. Potter, don't you dare go traipsing around the castle in your condition. Your arm is broken, you're covered in blood...”
Harry rolled his eyes, growling under his breath. “Fine, whatever. I'll be in the damn tiny white room. But I want something to read—And not school books! Ron has quidditch magazines.”
“I will find a way to get you healed, Harry, I promise. We will just have to figure something out without Mr. Malfoy's help.”
Harry nodded curtly even though the woman couldn't see. He should have kissed the prat. There was no way in fuck he could have, but he really should have. Because now Draco was contagious and who the fuck knew if it was even curable?
“Madame Pomfrey, like I said, the enchancubus is here and is willing to help—To a certain degree. He can interact with me safely and may be able to help with the antidote. I'm going to run now so that you can take care of Dra—Malfoy,” Harry said gruffly, pushing away from the door and towards the one that led to his room of that morning. He gently deposited the two sleeping cubs in the center of a cot, wrapping them in a nest of blankets.
“Sorry to do this to you, Dren, but they shouldn't give you too much grief. She nags, but that's the worst of it,” Harry said apologetically.
“Do you really think you can heal Garruth?” Dren asked, carefully brushing the unconscious wolf's ear.
“The physical injuries easily. The madness... Well, that's the whole point to try. I'll be in a room over here if you need me. And if you'd be willing to update me on what's happening, that wouldn't be too bad either,” Harry said, wetting his lips as he floated Draco down on the nearest cot. The boy was so beautiful, so still. He did not want to think what would happen if they didn't find a cure. Another life lost because of him—A life of such unimaginable value to him that he could hardly fathom it fully.
“There are so many people in this place. It is difficult on me, pretty one,” Dren said, eyes flickering as if he could see through the walls. Maybe he could, the creature's senses tuned towards more than sight.
“Er, you're not going to go, um, hunting in here, are you?” Harry asked, worry prickling as he thought of the many very innocent children he had just opened up to the predator's senses.
“I will control myself,” Dren whispered, eyes downcast. “It would be easier if...” Harry bit his lip, breath catching as the boy removed his hood and fixed hungry silver eyes on him.
“A little later, Dren,” Harry mumbled, stepping back towards the door as fire began to curl in the pit of his stomach. “Just, um, after you help them a bit.” It was very much Draco again, healthy, lust blazing through his gaze. Harry could not stop the thrill of desire especially after that afternoon, now when it was so much safer since Dren was unable to reach his heart the same way Draco could.
“No, pretty one. It will be you, and it will be now. You have been brimming with scent, aching with need and I cannot concentrate.”
Edging through the doorway, Harry tilted his head, beckoning the blond to follow. He snapped the door shut behind them, ducking away before Dren could touch him. That it looked like Malfoy stalking him down, smirking as he followed to Harry's room, only made his heart beat faster, his need grow greater. He slammed through the door to his small room, noticing it was now no longer a mess of feathers and linens only to be pushed up against the door by the blond, forcefully closing it with his back.
“You are dripping in want,” Dren growled and if Harry only heard Draco, seductive and hoarse with need, he couldn't blame himself. “Ever since the forest. Ever since he touched you. He does something to you that makes your scent stronger.”
Ignoring the words, Harry focused on the voice, quickly pushing off the boy's heavy cloak one handed, fingers tearing for the zipper to the robe underneath. “God, just... just touch me,” Harry said with a gasp, not caring that his arm was broken or he was covered in the blood of some terrible beast. He just needed Draco to touch him and everything would be so much better.
“There is just something about you, pretty one,” Dren murmured, fingers slipping under the band of Harry's tight leather pants, fanning around to find the clasp in the front. “Your energy... It is intoxicating. Unique. Powerful.”
“Harder,” Harry grunted, pulling the blond's hips to his. “Fuck, just, just do it hard, and rough, and... oh god, fuck... fuck yes...” He moaned, Dren biting his shoulder, jaw focused on the muscle and clamping tight. Harry fell back against the door, nearly boneless, the pain more a release than the hands trying to get into his pants in that moment.
He wrapped his one good arm around the blond's neck when he was lifted, legs quickly clenching around the powerful waist holding him up, just to be slammed into the door again. He let out gasp after gasp, eyes tight on Draco's fierce, handsome features as he ground his hips rhythmically.
“You're so close... So hard this entire time... What does he do to you?” Dren asked lowly, pushing Harry's pants down his hips, the material folded below his ass. He snaked a hot hand between their bodies and wrapped fingers around Harry's hard length. “Are all his kind like that?”
Harry shook his head weakly, moaning against the door, eyes half open to stare at Malfoy's intense silver eyes. Draco was special. Harry didn't know how to explain it, just that he had never truly reacted to veela energy before that first time with Draco, and now he couldn't seem to stop reacting even when the boy was unconscious. “Please, just...”
“I know... I know what you need,” Dren whispered, teeth digging into Harry's neck this time, biting hard. Harry closed his eyes, hating the pain those simple words caused. Fucking Malfoy, ruining everything, even his damn fantasy of a lie. Head knocking back against the door again, Harry came with a silent cry, thighs clenched tight to the hips jarring into him.
“That's it, my lovely. Give me your release.” Voice husky in his ear, Dren shuddered against him. He blearily noticed the enchancubus' energy this time, a wave of cool air sweeping over him, drinking down the heat and sweat from his tanned skin like a sacred elixir. Dren lifted his hand, pinning Harry to the door with his hips while he licked the cum from his palm in slow laps.
Harry unwound his legs, standing unsteadily on his feet as he slid down the toned, pale muscles of Draco's body. He pushed aside the robe still clinging to the boy, hand moving down, seeking the hard length he had yet to get a proper look at.
“Harry, you don't...” Dren trailed off, panting quietly, head resting forward against the door while the boy explored his still hard cock with his fingers. Draco was large, but not overly so, pale flesh flushed almost glowing red especially at the tip, Harry's thumb rubbing circles with the precum glistening there.
“I want to watch him come,” Harry said, eyes straying up, catching on Draco's flushed cheeks and very hazy expression. He had been so fierce the first time, as if trying to sear something into him beyond just his flesh and seed. But Dren looked nearly weak and open, mouth gasping soft murmurs of pleasure. He looked almost like Draco had sounded in the forest, pleading for Harry to be his.
Groaning, Harry rubbed his hips forward as he pumped Draco's thick cock, sweat slicking his hand with each hard stroke. “God, come for me... Take that hard, big cock of yours and come all over me.” He kissed Draco's jaw, finding himself panting loudly just thinking about the boy drizzling him with his seed.
“That scent again... You are insatiable, pretty one,” Dren said roughly, arm wrapping around Harry's waist and crushing their lower bodies together.
“I need him... to fuck me,” Harry admitted between gasps, feeling Draco's flesh swelling in his fist, getting ready to spurt and cover his already sweaty, blood drenched skin. “God, I need it so bad... I never knew how much... until he touched me that time.”
“Then let him, you foolish boy,” Dren chuckled, only to stop, the brunette's mouth covering his lips. The enchancubus stared, eyes narrowing, mouth gasping suddenly when his hand squeezed firmer, pulling the blond over the edge. Harry fell back against the door, gaze falling down to watch the final streams of cum slick over his hips.
“God... that's tight,” Harry panted out, eyes slowly moving up Draco's smooth, sweaty skin revealed in a wide stripe between the edges of the long robe. Then back down, groaning as he rubbed the semen into his flesh, the need inside him only growing greater.
Staring at Harry for long moments, Dren eventually pulled away, zipping his robe together and sliding his cloak back on. Harry just watched him, fingers still moving over his hips, head heavy against the door. Dren reached a hand up, carefully pressing his palm to the boy's cheek. “Doesn't your arm hurt, pretty one? Aren't you hungry or tired or something besides this painful ache I sense in you?”
Eyes trailing over the blond's features, Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “No.” Sometimes he was angry. Sometimes he was just this numb blackness of despair. And sometimes, when he let himself think of Draco, he ached for whatever he had been before that night. Surely he had been a whole person once and not this broken half, crying desperate for a connection to the boy that held the rest of him inside.
“You trouble me, Harry,” Dren whispered, slipping closer to gently kiss the corner of his mouth.
Harry watched him unblinkingly. “You're a predator, Dren. What the fuck do you care if your prey is happy or not?”
Shaking his head, Dren carefully looked over the boy's broken arm, fingers lingering. “I am not a predator, you jaded thing. I am a bringer of good fortune and love. I enhance the physical pleasures of sex, help destined lovers find each other and even increase fertility. I can sustain myself on worldly food if I so choose. But sometimes very pretty, very needy creatures will find me and I will taste them and if possible, help them.”
Eyebrows rising, Harry gave a weak, shaky grin. “Sorry to disappoint, Dren, but you are way out of your league here.”
Dren nodded, grinning wryly in return. “That may very well be the case. But I am hardly disappointed. And if you need my help, whether it is to talk or just touch your boy that you refuse to touch in real life, I am happy to be of service.”
Harry looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It was easier to think of the boy as a predator, just seeking touch and sex in exchange for a meal. But if Dren thought of himself as some damn good Samaritan love token, it just made him feel like a pity case.
As if reading the many thoughts swirling in his cloudy green eyes, Dren suddenly pushed Harry back against the door again, growling heatedly in his ear. “Believe me, pretty one, it is not an offer I extend to just anyone. I will not touch your little classmates, nor even the object of your affection—Although I know very much how you might wish me to,” he drawled, Harry smirking wickedly as he remembered Draco glaring his lookalike down.
“There is that scent again. It is reminiscent of your boy but so heady,” Dren remarked, pulling away from Harry and straightening the brunette's pants back into place. “It is almost as if you have made a scent to call him since you so clearly do not listen to his.”
Harry's grin faded, his mind again drawn to the madness induced pleas of Draco before he had stunned himself. “Dren, I want to be alone.”
Dren nodded, pulling away so Harry could step around him and sit on the bed. Harry didn't bother to look up, not wanting to see any version of Draco in that moment. Eventually the door shut and he could relax, slumping sideways on the bed, arm braced carefully on his side.
“God, you're a fuck up, Potter,” Harry whispered, staring blankly at the texture of interwoven threads of the sheets. Wasn't it bad enough falling for some veela halfling? Now he just had to start transferring onto some other lust creature. It he wasn't careful, he was just going to fuck Dren up too.
Anyone that got too close to him became fucked up, Malfoy worst of all. He was more an infection than the damn rogue, his sickness subtle and insidious until no one was happy anymore, just full of pain whenever they looked at him.
He had become very good at making his mind blank the last year. He had figured out how to shut all the voices up, all the questions and worries and desires that swirled so madly inside. It didn't stop the crazed feeling but it did stop the thoughts, and that was good enough. Every word Draco had said, pain and need tinged, every burning desire he had felt, every small, teasing point of shimmery contact so reminiscent of that night; Harry silenced it all. His fear, nearly tangible that he might have destroyed Draco by being so distracted and careless in the forest, letting the rogue and wolf catch them unaware—He silenced that as well. And if his heart still ached, full of pain and unbearable need for the damn beautiful Slytherin, he had learned to numb and harden that with even greater ease.
To see his father at the foot of his bed, long dead all these months, did not surprise Draco. He had come back to this memory many a night alone in his bedroom in the Manor, then in the room the veela had given him in their city and finally, his single prefect room at Hogwarts. It was always the same, his father waking him in the middle of the night dressed in his black Death Eater robes, eyes hard, lips twisted in the most chilling of smiles.
“You are needed, Draco. You have been called to serve him.”
If Lucius was tense, Draco did not think much of it. Anything that had to do with Voldemort made his parents tense. His mother had been so upset that he had barely seen her since he had woken up changed, his veela inheritance lengthening and fortifying his body in ways he had not expected. There were other new things too, senses and energies he didn't quite understand but kept flowing up the last two days as he tried to make sense of the muddled, magic soaked world he had found himself in.
Draco got out of bed slowly, still getting used to his new height and legs. He took his father's hand when it was offered, flinching away from the energy he felt in the man's cold fingers.
“Father, what am I supposed to do?” He asked quietly, eyes straying to the door of his room where he could see his aunt glaring in, smiling cruelly. He knew he could not say no, whatever it was. It was Voldemort and the monster would kill him if he refused, but probably first Draco's parents just to make sure everyone understood what saying no would result in.
“It is very simple, Draco,” Lucius said, grabbing the boy by his elbow and leading him to the adjoining bathroom. “You are to shower and dress in this robe. You will be assisting our lord in a spell.”
“A spell?” Draco repeated, blinking in surprise as he took the silky white robe from his father's hands. “What if I...? My magic has been so confusing since the change, Father. I do not want to disappoint you.”
“It is a very simple spell,” Lucius said tight lipped. “Now hurry along. We mustn't keep him waiting.”
Glancing again to where Bellatrix was leering at him, Draco stepped into the bathroom, his father closing the door. His mind kept whirring in fear, but he forced himself to go through the motions of cleaning.
The white robe was concerning. White was rarely used by his father and the Dark Lord for spells. It represented innocence and purity. It represented a victim. That he had to wash and then wear such a robe was ringing loud warning bells in his head.
There was a knock on the door, Draco jumping in surprise. “Are you ready?” It was Lucius, impatient and stern.
“I need to dry my hair,” Draco said uncertainly through the door. “You have my wand.” His father had taken it from him the morning he had changed, muttering something about Draco being hurt by his own spells.
“I will dry your hair.” Lucius pushed the door open, Draco turning away, body half wrapped in a towel. There was a sudden warmth, dry air crackling around him, and then his hair was light and loose again. Trying not to flinch, he held his head still as his father insisted on brushing his new, long locks, his dread growing.
“You look very nice, Draco, and you must be proud of it. You-Know-Who will be judging you on how well you hold yourself while in his presence.” Lucius pressed the back of Draco's shoulder blades, forcing him to stand taller and more confident. “I have a potion for you to help calm your nerves. It is very important that you stay calm.”
Nostrils flaring, Draco gave a curt nod. He could smell his father's fear. He held himself perfectly still when his towel was taken from him, the white robe wrapped around his shoulders brushing soft against his skin. When his father stepped back, Draco quickly zipped it, new senses alert and picking up too many things to fully understand from the man behind him. Fear, yes, but also a faint guilt and an even greater excitement. His father was anticipating something.
“I am going to help guide you through the beginning of the spell before you are brought into the room,” Lucius continued, again pulling Draco by the elbow. The man fell silent and Draco looked around as he was led from his room, bare feet touching soft on the carpet. Bellatrix was gone but he could sense the remains of her crazed presence as they went down the stairs, Lucius twisting them to the hidden door that led to the basement of the manor. He could sense many people down there, scents and sounds and something else he couldn't quite name but found people like red hot lights in the dark of his mind. He wanted to ask his father what this new sense was but kept quiet. Lucius was part veela but had never woken up, having done a spell to keep his genes dormant. The man, for whatever reason, had not done the same spell on him.
“Father...” Draco swayed, a strange feeling hitting him as they stopped in front of a shut door. “Father, who is that?” He asked breathlessly, feeling something glowing very bright in his new senses, so bright it was blocking out all the other people he could feel only a room away.
“Good, Draco. It is good you can sense him.” Lucius pushed the door open, walking them slowly inside, Draco's feet not wanting to agree with his commands. His nose had picked up the scent related to the glowing presence and his body was reacting oddly.
“All you need to do is focus on his heartbeat,” Lucius said, holding Draco's chin and turning his face towards the crumpled form on the ground that was glowing red hot in his mind's eye. “It will not be a true sound, or a sight. It will be a heat, as you feel the warmth in his blood and energy. Reach for that now, Draco, and see if you can feel that heat.”
Eyes straying briefly to his father's hard glare, Draco looked back at the body, the smell of blood filling his senses. It was a male, his heart weak and frantic, body cooling from the loss of the blood he could practically taste. He reached carefully with his new senses, everything suddenly closer as if he were right on top of the boy instead of the room away. The boy's name came to him like an omen and Draco quickly stuffed it down, keeping his expression flat. Darkness began to edge his vision, the heart growing louder along with the sudden appearance of others on the other side of the wall. Then Draco could feel his father's heart beating evenly next to him, a sick betrayal pumping with every thump.
“Do you sense his heart, Draco?” Lucius asked, his grip on the boy's chin tightening painfully.
“Yes, Father,” Draco answered as blandly as possible, all of his attention on the strange whirl of his father's emotions and thoughts.
“Good. You will be asked to focus on this heart and only this heart. Do you think you can do that? It is very important that you not lose that focus or others can be harmed.”
Eyes turning again to his father, Draco carefully pried the fingers off of his chin. “Am I going to harm that heart?”
“You're going to help kill it, yes. You have a very special gift, Draco. One that our Dark Lord would like to share.” But Draco could now hear what Lucius wasn't saying, could now sense what his father knew was to come. There would be no sharing, only taking. His eyes followed down when Lucius pulled something from his robe, a vial full of golden liquid.
“Father, that is—”
“To calm you, Draco,” Lucius said smoothly, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder soothingly. He could feel the guilt rising from the man before him, a damp musty scent of bog and rot. “There will be a lot demanded of you tonight. This is just to make things easier.” Lucius popped the stopper with his thumb, the glass vial pushed to Draco's pursed lips while his shoulder was held tight.
He knew this potion, the one he had seen too many times floating around the manor, passed from Death Eater to Death Eater. The group of villains had been there only two weeks and Draco had seen that potion five times. He had asked his mother and she had nearly burst into tears, begging him not to grow up. To just stay young a little longer. The paper had been more helpful the next day. Another body full of 'Siren's Voice,' a golden hued potion that had at least protected the victim from the pain of being eaten alive.
Harry Potter was lying half dead across the room and his father had a vial of Siren's Voice. Maybe more than one vial, maybe two. Maybe he would first have to listen to Harry's heart as it was eaten, his smooth flesh torn by teeth, bones cracked open, chest ripped apart. There was a monster in the other room and he had already seen this potion five times.
Draco didn't know what happened next. Even in his dream he never remembered how he killed his father. His memory jumped. It began with his father's heartbeat sickening with anticipation for a death to come, guilt for the betrayal of his only son, and the darkest of lust to see just what the potion would do once it touched his tongue. Then Draco closed his eyes, darkness falling, and when he opened them again the world was a shimmer of veela silver and everything was changed.
His father was dead, broken on the floor, vial dripping gold onto the stone blocks. Draco's robe was red in the man's blood and he stripped it away, disgusted by the scent of it. There was another's blood in the room that smelled far sweeter and he needed to taste it.
He crossed the room swiftly, kneeling down over the prone, weak creature he felt glowing so bright. They had wanted him to kill this boy—This beautiful, glowing boy whose heart had been so different compared to all the others. Fingers reaching out, he ran his thumb through the red dripping down from the head wound on Harry's face and brought it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick the scarlet.
Eyes wide, Draco gasped, falling forward and just managing to catch himself from tumbling to the ground. It was as if a light had gone on in fifty new parts of his brain, information zapping through him faster than any spell could ever work. “My god... Potter, what the hell are you?” He asked shakily. But Harry was unconscious and slowly bleeding out, not willing to answer. As Draco continued to stare, more information, emotion, and sensation began to swirl in him, his body trembling. Sweat prickled on his skin and he felt it this time when his feathers started to sprout, the silver glow nearly blinding his vision.
Harry Potter belonged to him. If asked to explain this fact, he would say something along the lines that Potter's blood had told him so. It was the right flavor, the right scent and information and power that if any other person were to taste it they would certainly understand. They belonged together. Harry was his and he needed to save the boy before he bled out completely.
That Draco did not have his wand was irrelevant. His body seemed to know how to use magic while in the new form, his claws retracting to allow him to press his hands safely to Harry's flesh and seek out where he was bleeding. Draco could sense more than just the wounds, energy in the brunette so strong zipping through, calling loudly to him to reach and tangle and pull the boy to him. And that seemed like a perfectly intelligent thing to do because Harry was his and in danger and Draco needed to be close so he could help him.
He pushed Harry flat on his back, opening his arms up so that he could get to the brunette's torso. He rested his head on the boy's barely moving chest, pushing the bloodied shirt up to hear more clearly. There was a rattle in his lungs, a wheezing where something was struggling to move properly and unable to. Draco relaxed further onto Harry's form, tongue lapping out while he melded his energy deep into the boy, weaving the flesh back together. Harry's lung suddenly inflated and raised his chest up firmly. Draco suppressed a groan, his entire body burning as he pushed the spell further into Harry's body, seeking out every tear and rip inside and out.
God, it felt good. Panting, he tried to fight the lust rising up in him. Fuck, why did he smell like that? The more he healed Harry, the more his lithe, toned body was giving off this delicious, irresistible scent. It was like the boy was taunting him, begging him to stop his damn doctoring and just fuck him. Which was crazy because Harry really needed to be healed. But the harder Draco got, the better his spell got and so maybe, if he just pressed against the boy a little... God, just, just rubbed a little harder...
Eyes fluttering shut, Draco groaned, power moving through him in a wave even as his orgasm swept through him. He could feel his energy glowing brighter, a curtain of silver rising up. It was like he had caught every molecule of water in the air and then connected to it. Except he didn't want to connect with air. He wanted to connect with the boy that was glowing bright in his head full of maddening energy and scent.
“Sorry, Potter, but if you could smell what I smell, you would totally understand,” Draco whispered, biting his lip and running his hand down the boy's side. He needed to wake Harry up. The boy was in danger and needed to wake up. God, and if he was awake, it would totally be okay to fuck him then—not weird or fucked up at all—and that was really, really important.
He moved up Harry's prone form, tongue lapping at the blood still soaking the boy's face. He began pulling strings of his energy up, wrapping them around the brunette like a blanket, allowing the power to drift in and be absorbed by his skin. Harry made a soft noise, Draco's energy helping to bring him back to consciousness. He could feel the pain in the boy, his confusion, his panic, and then, as he flowed more energy in, stealing deep, hungry kisses from the weak boy, Harry began to fill with desire. It was so perfect, so sweet and hot and dark, Harry's need even more delicious than his blood had been but only by a little.
Draco pulled away reluctantly, his entire body tight with want. Harry was awake, stunning green eyes blinking up at him. God, the boy was beautiful, face drawn, bruised, bleeding.
“Malfoy?” Harry whispered, eyes moving over him like a touch. And then he did touch, Draco holding his breath, all his senses keyed in to the absolute desire Harry was building just by squeezing his arm. Just like when he had first tasted Harry's blood, this instant too seemed to slow as he focused in on the brunette's conscious want. Harry liked him. He liked his body and he liked how he was smart and witty and only fought when someone else started it. He hated that Voldemort had found a way into his life, had corrupted Draco's home the same way he had corrupted Harry's entire existence.
Looking down at the boy, Harry's tongue flicking out to wet his lips, Draco was certain if he just killed Voldemort they would never be apart.
“I need this room cleared now! You and you, grab his arms—And for the love of Merlin, do not get scratched!”
“This isn't—Shit! Siri, are you okay?”
“Restraints!” Madame Pomfrey demanded while stepping over Sirius's groaning form, a house elf popping in an instant later. The first spell did not work at all, just bounced off and shackled a cot to the floor. The second one was barely any better, Remus, who had been the only one strong enough to pin Draco in the cot while the boy snarled and foamed, finding himself with new metal bracelets.
“For the love of—He's a halfling!” Remus growled, snagging Draco's wrists again as the boy broke free, making sure to avoid claw and fangs as much as possible. “Dose him in a sleep draught!”
The house elf popped out, two more popping in simultaneously, a large beaker of purple liquid in each of their clawed hands. One beaker was immediately floated over to Remus, who just glared as it was clear both his hands were full of a maddened Draco. Sirius, pulling himself from the floor, swiftly grabbed the floating container, held Draco by the nose, and poured half the beaker down his throat before anyone could yell otherwise.
“Stop! You're going to kill him!” Remus shouted, then fell back with a grunt of pain when Draco managed to push him stumbling across the room. Madame Pomfrey was fast, pulling Sirius away with a quick spell before Draco could even slash, the two house elves throwing stunners at the boy while he struggled to stand and swing wildly.
Remus jumped back to his feet, stalking across the room and barreling into the boy. He pinned Draco chest first into the ground, pulling his arms behind his back. Draco continued to fight, bucking erratically, his movements slowing as each minute passed.
“Get me the boy's head of house,” Madame Pomfrey asked the nearest house elf, the creature popping away. Everyone watched, the minutes ticking by until Draco stopped moving altogether. “Remus, is he breathing?”
Remus gave a quick nod, pulling Draco's slack form up off the ground and laying him on a cot. “God only knows how long. That dose would have killed a dragon. Sirius, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I didn't want him to scratch you and then have to deal with two crazed, super powerful beings,” Sirius snapped, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. “Where's the quiet one? He might know if the boy can survive it. They're both lust creatures.”
“That hardly makes them comparable, Mr. Black,” Pomfrey said in exasperation. “I can pump his stomach but then we have to deal with him being awake and violent...”
“Hagrid!” Remus exclaimed suddenly, running for the door with his wrists clanging metal. “He'll have something to chain a magical beast,” he explained, nearly bowling into Severus, who was just entering. “Sorry.”
“Lupin,” Severus sneered, stepping back quickly. “This place is turning into a madhouse. Madame Pomfrey, you sent for me? I trust having something to do with my status spells telling me my storeroom is now empty of sleeping draught?”
“The majority will be returned, Snape,” Pomfrey said with a defensive ring to her voice. “I was hoping you would contact Draco's people. We are in an urgent situation and I feel we may have reached the extent of our resources. His physiology is so unique and the boy is strong. Heaven help if he starts pulling while in this state.”
“Are you no closer to a cure?” Severus asked, dark eyes solemn as they fell on Draco's barely breathing form.
“I am getting there. By all means, if you can find the time, I would readily accept the help of a potions master,” Pomfrey said. “The wolf and children are showing some improvement, but Mr. Malfoy's form is making things very difficult. He is just too strong, and I don't mean physically. That he hasn't defeated the illness on his own is a wonder. If I could talk with his veela relatives, maybe have them send an expert down to help, I feel like we would have a much better chance of sorting him.”
Sirius folded his arms, meeting Severus's hard gaze. “Do you honestly think that arrogant lot is going to help anyone? They usually toss halflings to the side of the road like garbage.”
“They seem inclined towards Mr. Malfoy,” Severus muttered, his frown growing grimmer. “They are hardly dependable and very reluctant to share information.”
“Be that as it may, we must still try,” Pomfrey said sternly. “Mr. Malfoy saved countless veela lives along with even more human ones. We will simply remind them of that fact.”
Sirius didn't look convinced but remained silent about it, Severus leaving to owl the veela and see if they would help. Pomfrey went back to the other infected, checking on their progress. Staring down at Draco's silent, pale face, guilt and worry niggled at Sirius. Just that morning he had been yelling at the boy only to find out that Harry had been lying about what had happened that night with Voldemort. Somehow the two boys had managed to kill seventeen people instead of one, both their magic found in every corpse in the room of dead. Only one body had been free of the odd tangle of magic and that had been Lucius Malfoy, flesh shredded and neck broken.
That no one had pushed to find out what had happened, no inquiry, no questions at all, had only been because Voldemort wasn't even officially alive in the Ministry's eyes to begin with, while at the same time stacking up a pile of dead veela. When a cult of Death Eaters all die in an instant, their insane leader among them, it was just easier for the officials to sweep it away and call it a win. Hell, Sirius had been lucky to be pardoned given just how little the Ministry wanted to deal with the incident. Harry and Draco were underage and the only witnesses, except Harry had been passed out and Draco half crazed and half veela when found.
Sirius had wanted to ask Malfoy more questions. Had wanted to pry whatever remaining scraps of information he could from the boy about what had happened with Voldemort. That Draco had returned infected and crazed had not been fully a surprise. Because he had gone out with Harry and that just led to trouble recently. Not intentional or deliberate or even malicious, but it was still the end result with the boy. Harry was messed up and he was messing up lives.
That Draco had no family now, seemed to have few friends as well, with just the cold veela to call in an emergency only made Sirius feel worse. Malfoy had ended up with just as many problems as a consequence of that night as Harry had, but the boy was possibly even more alone for it. Certainly demonized, unlike Harry who had been acting out since and yet no one would dare speak wrong of him. No, the halfling had gotten the short end, being looked down from all sides just because of his genetics and parents... Parents he had accidentally killed to ensure Voldemort died.
Sighing, Sirius took a seat by the door, glaring at the floor while he waited for Remus and Hagrid. Draco was his distant cousin, and even though he wasn't really big on bloodlines, it seemed important at the moment. He didn't know what he meant to do about it, if anything, but he was pondering and that rarely led to anything easy in the long run.
Pacing the tiny room had gotten old very quickly. Harry had been trapped there for two days, had read every Quidditch magazine Ron and Seamus owned, and had even given schoolwork a shot only to stop, completely bored. He wanted out. Dren had visited only once to let him know he was assisting in one of the potions labs in the dungeon and would not be available. No one had told him how Draco was although someone had managed to heal Harry's arm while he was sleeping. Giving another angry look to the four walls surrounding him, he decided it was time to take a walk.
Once he was out of the castle he'd be fine, it was just the getting through the castle that was the issue. He figured he'd have a plan by the time he got out of the infirmary. For now, he peeked his head out the door, bare feet edging on the cool stone floor as he slipped out the exit of his room. He was halfway through the large room when he heard a noise, turning slowly to find three pairs of unfamiliar eyes staring dazed at him.
“Aw, crap,” he muttered. Given their age, they were parents to the injured first years. They were also between him and the door to freedom. Hopping from one foot to the other, he reached for the nearest doorknob in the line of private rooms to the right of him, only to find it locked. “Crap, crap, crap, crap...” Hand reaching out, Harry began backing up from the approaching trio, trying each handle in turn until one blessfully opened. With a sigh of relief, he stumbled through the open door and slammed it shut behind him.
“Harry Potter. Now this is a treat.”
Harry jumped wide eyed as he tried to place the voice of the boy talking to him. He found him by the bed, Harry groaning when he saw Malfoy fast asleep among the sheets. Out of all the damn doors, he had to end up in Malfoy's room? Exasperated, he turned his attention to the boy sitting in a chair next to Draco's bed. His scowl grew once recognizing the veela.
“Terrence,” he said stiffly. Maybe someone had pulled the parents out of the hall? He was almost willing to brave three adult humans with uncontrollable lust, than the fucker slowly getting to his feet.
“I knew it was you,” Terrence said smugly, eyes roaming over the boy possessively. “I could scent you rooms away. You look good, Potter. You look... interesting.”
Harry stiffened when Terrence took a step forward, the boy's eyes starting to glow, feathers rippling and sprouting. He tried to keep his panic from rising, his mind flashing back to the last time he had seen Terrence in this form with four other veela egging him on. “Back the fuck off, you overgrown chickenshit,” he snapped. “If I had known you were here, I sure as fuck never would have entered this room.”
“Oh, don't sound so unhappy to see me. We had so much fun the last time... And you smell even nicer now.” Terrence was suddenly a foot away, his speed unmatched. “We didn't get to finish what we started last time, Potter. I have deeply regretted that. But you're here now as am I. And this time I don't have to share you.”
“If you touch me, I am going to hurt you,” Harry said hoarsely, unable to look away from the veela's glowing eyes. His knees were growing weak and his body very much wanted to surge forward and touch this boy... this cruel, ugly, terrible boy that had tried to rape him so many months ago.
“Who are you trying to kid?” Terrence asked, head tilted as he looked Harry over in his thin pajamas. “I can sense how hard you are, how much you're begging for it. Only certain humans get that way around veela, Potter. You're one of the lucky ones... The type we get to fuck.”
Harry pushed back against the door, hating how even now his body was responding. He couldn't close his eyes to the unnatural glow but he could feel his own power. Ever since his night with Draco, he could feel the well of power inside him whenever veela energy was near. He reached for it now, sipping up strands of magic, wrapping himself in a golden barrier floating just above his skin. He would make sure Terrence regretted ever trying to touch him again.
“What have you been fucking lately, Potter? You have an unfamiliar musk on you.” The veela frowned, trapping the boy in his power while breathing up the side of his neck. “Don't you know you're made for veelas? This smell you give off... You're begging for a veela. Hot, desperate, begging for it.”
Harry struggled against the fog that had come over him, Terrence now inches from his skin. “I'm warning you,” he gasped out.
“That's okay. You're even nicer when glaring like this.” Smirking cruelly, Terrence went to cup Harry's cheek. The instant he made contact, power shot out, the veela thrown back across the room with a loud screech.
Harry grasped weakly for the door behind him, trying not to fall as the veela's spell was broken. Fucking arrogant fucking veela always trying to fucking take.
“Shit... You're powerful.” Terrence pushed himself to his feet, feathers charred, smoke rising off his clothes. “Which just makes hunting you all the more fun.”
“Hunting?” Harry fumbled for the door handle, pretty sure it would still be safer with the parents at this point.
“Oh, yes. The high council has been trying to figure out who gets to keep you, Potter. Ever since we found out you could weave, they've been searching to pick someone strong enough to subdue you.”
“That was... that was just a spell. Malfoy showed me how,” Harry muttered, his mind whirring at the thought of the veela government trying to capture him.
“No, you ignorant thing. One cannot learn to weave. Malfoy woke you up and now we just need to figure out who is going to keep you.” Terrence began pushing his feathers back on his head, smoothing them down, some floating to the floor. “I think if I work on you long enough, I just might win.”
Harry had heard enough of this particular line of insanity. “Listen here, you rude piece of shit. No one is ever going to fucking own me or keep me or subdue me or anything. You tell your goddamn veela council if they don't leave me alone, I'm going to come after them. I will hunt you fuckers down and I'll weave your hearts out of oblivion. And it will not be an accident!”
Terrence had recovered himself enough, leaning on Draco's bed, eyes again alight with veela power. Harry quickly shut his eyes, drawing more power up in preparation to battle. “Potter, you hardly know how to do a simple weave. You might have amazing power but you don't know how to use it. You could never match my people. As for your little trick of earlier—Who the hell says I even have to touch you? I can make you so full of need that you'll be begging me to touch you. I could make you ride me without even—”
Harry could not see why Terrence stopped talking but the veela started making a strained, wheezing noise and his power dropped again. He debated whether it was a trick or not, then decided it mustn't be because Terrence just loved to hear himself talk too much to ever pretend otherwise. Harry opened one eye carefully, the second quickly following.
Malfoy was strangling Terrence. One handed, sneering silently, holding Terrence high over his head. Staring at the scene, Harry had two separate thoughts. The first was the question of if Draco was actually healed or was this the boy full of murderous rogue rage. The second thought being that Draco looked absolutely sexy when his muscles flexed like that.
“Er... You alright there, Malfoy?” Harry asked, biting his lip when Draco turned searing silver eyes his way. Shit, even mad as a hatter, Draco was really, really hot. It helped that he totally hated Terrence. But then... Malfoy was supposed to be friends with Terrence. He was supposed to have sent the veela to hurt him in the first place. Blinking, Harry decided it was time to go.
“Potter,” Draco hissed when Harry went to open the door and leave. Glancing back, his knees nearly gave out when he caught Draco glowing, transforming to feathery and sexy.
“What do you want me to do to him?” Draco continued, looking at the brunette meaningfully.
Harry swallowed hard, a wicked grin breaking across his face. Terrence looked very, very scared, eyes wide as he clawed at Draco's hand. Veela halflings were much more powerful physically than the full blooded types and Terrence was feeling it the hard way.
“Thought he was your friend, Malfoy,” he said, taking a step forward and then another, really wanting to see how Draco's muscles bulged up close. The boy wasn't even straining, still just holding Terrence up even though he had been stuck in bed for days.
“That was before I heard him say he was going to touch you,” Draco said tightly, anger making his voice hard. “No one gets to fucking touch you.”
Eyebrows raised, Harry was not sure what the hell to make of such a statement. Well, beyond his body's initial burst of lust. He stepped closer to the bed, resting at the foot of it, hands inches from Draco's feet. He glanced briefly up at Terrence, the veela looking paler than proper, eyes nearly bulging out. He smirked, bringing his gaze back to Draco. “You're still out of your mind.”
Frowning grimly, the blond just stared at him, eyes glowing brighter as if trying to pull the brunette into the bed with him. Harry really didn't mind. Draco was damn sweet when crazy, being protective and pretending he was actually someone the blond cared about. He wished the boy was like this all the time.
“Hurt him,” Harry said abruptly, answering Draco's earlier question. And while he rested his elbows on the bed, Draco did as he asked without the slightest signs of hesitation. It was quick, efficient, and brutal, the brunette admitting a great amount of arousal to the vicious sight.
Growling, Draco threw Terrence's whimpering, bloodied form to the ground, eyes again fixed on Harry. “You're mine.”
He shrugged, bemused with Draco's crazy conviction of such a statement. “Your asshole friends don't seem to think so. Actually, I'm pretty sure you didn't think so when you sent them after me at the beginning of the school term.”
Draco sat up further in the bed, tucking his knees until he was crouched in front of the brunette. “I did no such thing.”
“Oh? Then they just managed to know where I liked to hang out while having never been here before?” Harry kept his voice light, his body feeling numb just thinking about it. “They called me by my name outside the closed door. Told me how you had told them everything about what I had done that night. Terrence said I had 'brought it on myself.' His exact words.”
“Brought what?” Draco demanded, his eyes snapping down to the veela whimpering on the floor. When Terrence made no move to answer, Draco leaned down, hauling the boy up. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
“M-Malfoy, it's not what you think—Shit! Potter, you need to talk him down!”
Harry, who was feeling about as numb as he had ever felt before, didn't say anything. He watched with mild interest when Draco squeezed Terrence's hand a little too tight and something snapped loudly. Malfoy was just being crazy. Because even if he hadn't known, it still didn't mean he would fucking care.
“Fine—f-fine! We were sent to test him! To see if he was as powerful as you said—Dammit! You didn't tell us you claimed him!”
“Potter, is he telling the truth? Did they just test you?” Draco asked, his words muffled by his long, sharp teeth.
“No,” he said flatly, Terrence shrieking as another finger was broken.
“What. Did. You. Do.” Draco shook the veela with every word.
Terrence held on weakly, eyes again turned to Harry pleadingly. “Potter, please... you have to... calm him.”
He didn't have to do fuck. “I think you should answer the question. Poor Malfoy is very sick from the madness and you aren't helping things by being difficult.”
“He's not—Ahh!” Terrence screamed, Draco twisting his thumb.
“Not the right answer, Terrence.” Harry gave a bored sigh, pushing taller on his arms until he was standing fully. He wondered idly how many more fingers Malfoy would have to go through until the veela actually got the damn hint. It turned out to be two.
“Oh hell... we... we pulled him... We wanted to see if he could fight it... like you said...”
Draco went still, wrenching the veela up to his face, Terrence's head rolling forward, his neck unable to support the weight anymore. “Did you touch him?”
Draco gave a warning roar, suddenly standing and holding the veela by the head, hands pressing over his ears painfully. “Did you rape him!”
“No!” Terrence cried, eyes squeezed shut as Draco held his head tighter. Draco turned to Harry, eyes blazing for confirmation.
Harry stepped over, grabbing Terrence by the jaw. “You see what he's doing to you? If I ever run across another one of you fuckers trying to test me or touch me or rape me ever again, this is going to seem like a fucking picnic. You want to tell me I can't weave? The first time I tried, I was powerful enough to kill Voldemort while your full-blooded, shiny haired bitches kept getting eaten by the monster.” He turned away in disgust, anger boiling in him suddenly so much stronger than the numbness of before.
“Potter?” Draco growled, his unasked question clear.
“They tried, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “I was stronger. Fucking five glowing veela tried to break me. They touched me, and when I realized they were going to rape me, I wove myself the fuck out of there. Blinked into the damn Shrieking Shack and had myself a nice, lonely freakout. Fucking hate veela.”
Draco abruptly dropped Terrence, the veela crumpling to the ground in a pained heap. “Why didn't you tell me? Is this why—Damn it, you haven't said a fucking word to me since we started school! Why the fuck would you not tell me?”
Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Because I thought you sent them to do it, Malfoy!”
Draco stepped back as if slapped, his eyes wide. “My god... Do you really think so little of me?”
It was too much for Harry, Draco looking so shell-shocked and small. He was already upset from having to remember so much, from the veela to Voldemort. Now he had to feel guilty for thinking Draco had wanted to hurt him? “What the fuck do you want from me, Malfoy? You ran off that night. You fucking left me on the damn floor. You never tried to say a fucking word—And shit, you were right for it.”
“I came back,” Draco said weakly, hands reaching for Harry, who quickly stepped away. “You had passed out. I stayed with you. I left to get help and then I stayed with you while you were unconscious.”
Harry shook his head agitatedly while gnawing on his lower lip. “You left. You left me all alone to... to count them. Every heart. Every single one, trying to figure out who I had killed.”
“You were so weak! I had to get you help. I-I...” Draco took a deep breath, tears welling. “I forced you, Potter. You were so weak, bleeding and confused and I was so much stronger—”
“Stop! Why are you saying that?” Harry shouted, pulling at his hair fitfully. “You were under a spell. That fucking potion. You can't blame yourself over a goddamn spell!”
Draco groaned, turning and nearly tripping over the fallen Terrence. “I never drank the fucking thing! My father tried to make me and I blacked out. When I came to I had gone all veela for the first time.” He turned back, eyes begging Harry to understand. “I couldn't let them hurt you. I just couldn't. There was something inside me that wanted to kill everyone so that you would be safe. And that same something... it wanted to make you mine. Even though you were weak and didn't understand and couldn't fight back properly.”
Harry couldn't speak, his mind reeling wildly. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Malfoy had been full of a lust potion. He had wanted to have sex with him because of that potion, using his call. And while they were having sex, they happened to do a spell to kill Voldemort and save both their lives with Draco's veela powers. But... but if you took the potion out of the mix, how the hell had any of it happen?
“Wait, don't run away!” Draco shouted, racing Harry to the door and slamming it shut while the brunette struggled to open it. “Talk to me! Yell at me! Anything! Just stop running away from me!”
Harry growled, turning and shoving the boy back. “What! What the fuck do you want from me! So you didn't take the potion—What the hell is that supposed to mean? You left me and then you never talked to me again. And we started school and those fuckers came after me—”
“But I had nothing to do with that!”
“It still fucking happened!” Harry yelled, hitting Draco again, the taller boy stumbling back. Draco grabbed his fists before he could strike a third time, trapping them against his chest.
“I would never do that to you. My god, Harry, I felt bad enough for what I did to you that night. I would never... Never do such a thing.” Draco pulled him closer, trying to get the boy to meet his gaze. The brunette kept his head ducked, struggling still to pull away.
“I killed your mom,” Harry whispered hoarsely, tears in his eyes. “It was okay that you wanted to hurt me because I killed her. You should hate me... I-I hate me and you should too.”
Eyes downcast, Draco sighed heavily. He released Harry's hands only to thread his fingers through the boy's dark locks, pulling his face up. “What are you doing to yourself, my beautiful?” He whispered, pressing his forehead against his. “You didn't even know what you were doing. I was supposed to guide you. Keep you focused. I never even warned you that others could get hurt. It wasn't your fault.”
Harry just shook his head weakly, more tears falling from his blinking lashes. “I am so sorry, Draco... So, so, so fucking sorry,” he gasped out.
Draco tried to wrap his arms around the boy, but Harry began to pull away the instant he felt it. So Draco kept his fingers lightly on the back of his neck while his other hand combed Harry's hair. “It's okay. I promise.”
“I gotta... I need to go,” Harry mumbled, stepping back. “I just can't...”
“Please stay—God... just... just stay for a few minutes,” Draco pleaded softly. “You don't have to say a word if you don't want.” He pulled away, his hands out and open. “I won't touch you. I just... I just want to be around you.”
Harry paused at the door, eyes staring blankly at his bare feet. Draco relaxed slightly when the boy made no further signs of trying to escape. “Um... did you come in here to see me?” He asked, trying to draw Harry into a safer line of conversation.
Harry shook his head mutely. He chanced a glance up, gnawing on his now swollen bottom lip, only to look away when he caught Draco's eye. “I was trying to get outside for a bit but there were people out there.” He tilted his head towards the door.
“They, uh, didn't hurt you, did they?” Draco asked, remembering how the brunette had freaked out in the Great Hall.
“Nah.” Harry sighed, staring at the floor again. “Really, I should just get out of here and...” He needed to think. He needed to get away from the damn beautiful boy and think.
“Let me at least take you to your room?” Draco asked, taking a small step closer. “Just to make sure no one hurts you.”
Harry spared a glance behind Draco's legs, Terrence groaning in pain on the floor while he held his broken hands to his body. “You think that's a good idea? You're not quite yourself right now.”
Draco furrowed his brow, turning to where he was looking for a moment, then back to the brunette. “Harry, I've been free of the illness for ten hours now.” He stooped, picking Terrence up by the shoulder and throwing him unceremoniously on the bed. “My body actually fought the illness off, it just took a while. Pomfrey wants me to stay in bed for another day. You know how she gets.”
Harry just stared. His mind kept freezing up at the very thought of Draco saying all the things he had just said while at the same time not being infected. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the strange blush from his cheeks. He really needed to just get the hell away and think in peace.
He stepped aside when Draco approached, staring at the taller boy's back and long silky hair as he opened the door. “All clear?” Harry asked hopefully.
“Give me a second and I'll clear them out,” Draco said, stepping out the door and latching it behind him. Staring blearily at the doorknob, Harry wondered if Draco was out there throwing people literally out of the room. He glanced again at the broken pile of Terrence. Malfoy had systematically pulled the veela apart just because he had... What, exactly? Was it because he had asked Draco to hurt Terrence? Or was it because Draco didn't want anyone touching him?
And why, exactly, didn't Draco want people touching him? He had been upset in the forest too. Upset he had let Dren touch him. Draco had been begging that he only be his... And now he had beaten up Terrence, the ringleader of the asshole veela that had attacked him months ago. He had... Draco had said he was his...
The door suddenly pushed open, Harry starting, eyes rising to catch on Draco's. Staring at him far too long, Draco eventually stepped back so Harry could get into the now empty hall connecting all the single rooms together. Harry glanced down and sideways, catching Draco in his peripheral as the boy followed him slowly to his room. And then Harry was suddenly pushing his way into his tiny white room and Draco was in the doorway behind him, hanging on the frame, long hair blocking his face from sight.
“Potter, I need to talk to you about that night. Seriously talk to you.” Draco looked up, his expression tired but resigned. “It's... It's difficult, the things I need to say, and I just really don't know how to say them all. But I need to. Because I just don't know how to keep doing this.”
Harry sat heavily on the bed, hands braced on his knees. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. Just not...”
“Not now,” Draco agreed quietly. He straightened, staring at Harry's bowed head and shoulders. He walked further into the room, sinking down to his knees in front of the boy, Harry’s green eyes widening as he caught sight of him.
“What are you...?” Harry gasped, Draco's hands cupping his face firmly.
“You're in danger like this. And you're bored in this room. And I... I would really like to kiss you,” Draco murmured, nose brushing against Harry's lightly. “Would that be...?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut, Draco's hands warm on his skin, breath even warmer as he slipped closer and gently pressed their lips together. It was soft, sweet and tinged with sorrow. Exhaling slowly, Harry yielded into the firmer touch, Draco's fingers pulling him closer, tongue urging his lips to part. “Oh... oh hell,” Harry whispered weakly, shuddering as he melted under Draco's hot mouth.
Groaning, Draco tangled his fingers into Harry's hair and crushed the boy's lips as he surged forward, delving his tongue deep and tasting. Harry gave a resounding moan, arms wrapping around the blond's neck as he met each thrust of tongue with his own. Gasping loudly, he suddenly found himself in Draco's lap, the boy pulling him down to the floor on top of him. Harry wrapped himself tighter, straddling the boy's thighs while Draco slid an arm around his waist and ground their lower bodies together.
Harry could not fully understand why he needed to crawl inside the boy holding him but that was what he wanted, to pull Draco's flesh so tight to him that they would eventually meld and merge and be complete again. And Draco definitely understood, his grip so strong and forceful as he wrenched Harry's hips, twined their tongues and tried to breathe through the brunette's mouth as if it were his own. Harry pushed fitfully at Draco's pajama shirt, finding the hem and getting his hands underneath, seeking out the waiting hot flesh beneath. He tried to undo the buttons, his fingers uncoordinated and impatient, tearing and slipping on each small disk.
Draco growled, far less impeded, grabbing Harry's shirt by the bottom of the hem and pulling it up his back, twisting and folding until the brunette finally relented and raised his arms long enough to pull it free. Except neither was willing to break from their kiss long enough, Draco finally groaning and wrenching away so that he could have the boy topless, dark hair ruffled into a mess. Seeing that Harry had still not gotten his shirt undone, Draco quickly tore the two halves of his top apart, buttons popping and rolling away.
“Harry, your—mmph!” Draco was cut off by his desperate mouth again, groaning as the brunette attacked him with such force he toppled backwards, Harry following relentlessly after.
Forcing Draco flat onto his back, Harry kissed him hard into the floor, hands moving down his sides and up his chest, fingers fanning and digging in as he explored every hard plane he could reach. Draco explored his back, large palms running possessively over every bare inch of flesh and muscle, moving down and grabbing the boy's ass. Harry cried out when Draco suddenly pulled him tight against his hips, their hard lengths crashing into each other.
Glaring as he heard voices in the hall outside, Harry reached for the still wide open door, nearly losing his balance as he leaned to push it shut. Seeing him stretched out, Draco caught the boy's extended arm, other hand flowing over his body, lingering on his hips. Sharp hipbones peeked out from the waist of Harry's pajama pants that Draco immediately began to push further down, revealing more creamy, golden skin.
“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, Draco pulling him further up his body by his outstretched arm, their flesh rubbing together achingly. With his free hand, he braced himself on Draco's shoulder while the blond managed to get his palm down the front of Harry's thin pants and into his sweaty curls. Harry moaned loudly, hips rocking forward in hard, desperate thrusts, pumping into the fingers wrapped around his cock.
“That's it, beautiful,” Draco murmured huskily in his ear, releasing his wrist to grip the boy's hip and add more resistance to each grinding pump. “God, I've dreamed of this. Holding you again. Hearing you gasp and cry for me.”
Harry whimpered, panting into Draco's neck as he held the boy's shoulder and hip. It took everything in him not to say what he was feeling. How horrible and wonderful it was to be back in Draco's arms. It wouldn't last. It couldn't last. He was fucked in the head, and Draco... god, Draco was fucking perfect.
“Come for me,” Draco demanded, mouth wide as he licked up the side of the brunette's neck, teeth nipping into his jaw. “You are mine, Harry. Every time you come, it's for me. Every cry, every breath, every drop of your seed; these are the gifts you give me.”
“Draco,” Harry moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head when the blond's free hand pushed his pants down, fingers teasing between his cheeks. It was too much, those long digits stretching his flesh, dipping into his hole and touching inside him. Harry's cry was of surrender, his cum streaming into Draco's ready palm, hips jerking fitfully while the blond held him tight.
As Harry's breathing began to even out, the rest of the world started to filter in. The sun streaming in through the window. Voices outside the door. Draco, mouth moving over his neck, pausing only to lick his hand clean of cum with hungry strokes. He could feel the blond's stare, trying to catch his eye, trying to figure out what he was thinking. But he wasn't thinking. He never fucking thought anymore, he just reacted and acted with no regard for consequences.
Face buried in Draco's neck, Harry slid his hand down between their sweat soaked bodies, seeking out the hard length still burning into his hip. Draco caught his hand before he could wrap his fingers around his cock. Harry bit his lip, not sure why Draco would stop him and unwilling to seek the boy's face out to ask him.
Draco entwined their fingers together while pulling Harry's pants back up. “If you touch me, I won't be able to hold back,” he said hoarsely, kissing his cheek. “Every part of me is screaming to fuck you, my beautiful. I want to come inside you. I want you to come inside me. There is only so much I can control right now.”
Harry felt dizzy, the world spinning wildly at the very thought of Draco so close to the brink that just to touch his dick would be to break his self control. He made himself pull away. Forced himself to get up away from Draco's heat, sweat and breath and sit alone on the bed while not looking at the boy. Because he would touch him if he stayed. Just to see if Draco was lying. Just to have the boy inside him again.
Draco didn't move for a while as he collected himself. He stayed long enough for Harry's eyes to wander back his way, taking in his long legs, bare torso, fierce, contemplative face while the boy breathed haltingly with his eyes closed. He was beautiful. Harry fought the urge to go back, to unveil Draco's erection and wrap his lips around his cock the way he'd been dreaming of doing nearly every time he closed his eyes.
“Harry,” Draco whispered, his eyes remaining shut. Harry wondered if they were shining behind his lids even though he felt no pull.
“The spell should be gone.”
Wetting his lips, Harry slowly got to his feet. “You want me to go?”
Draco gave a harsh laugh, his hand covering his face. “Never. I want you to never leave my presence again. But if you don't get the fuck away from me soon, smelling the way you're smelling, I'm going to lose my shit.” He trailed of, groaning softly as the world again went dizzy for the brunette.
Harry paused, standing over Draco, watching the boy determinedly keeping his eyes closed. “Is that all it is? Just some sort of scent?”
Draco didn't say anything for a long minute, his fingers threading through his hair. “Everyone has a scent,” he finally answered, choosing his words carefully. “The same way the arrangement of facial features, physical attributes and even desirable emotional states can provoke a response of attraction.” He hesitated, finally adding softly. “Just... I don't notice anyone else's scent but yours.”
Heart racing in his ears, Harry bit the side of his thumb. “Why's that?”
Draco shrugged, hand again covering his eyes. “Not sure. Probably because... well, it's one of the things I need to talk to you about. Soon.”
“Oh... okay.” He was too distracted to move his feet even though he knew he should. Draco was waiting for him to leave. Needed him to go so he could get himself back under control. His body just didn't seem to care. “What happens if you look at me right now?” He asked softly, both of Draco's palms now over his eyes.
“Nothing.” Draco lifted his hands away, his eyes perfectly normal and free of glow. Except the tears streaking from the corners of his eyelids, fresh ones even now threatening to spill.
Harry swallowed hard, not sure what to do. “Why are you...?”
“Missed you,” Draco said simply, closing his eyes again. “A lot.”
His throat feeling tight all of a sudden, Harry nodded weakly. “I'm gonna go,” he mumbled, stepping around the boy.
“Yeah.” Harry escaped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Sirius, Remus, Severus and Dren all looked up at him, the four in a huddle as they conversed. Harry barely noticed them, walking past and ignoring their calls.
Harry skipped classes for the next three days, wandering the dungeons of the school, eventually hiding away in the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't know what to make of anything except the realization that his heart was breaking and had been doing so for a very long time. Before that summer. All the way back when he had fallen for a rather brilliant, cocky, son of a bitch Slytherin whose family had been so deep in Voldemort's pocket, Harry had known he would never have a chance with the boy.
One incident had changed everything and nothing. They had gotten Voldemort out of the way only to pile a stack of bodies so high between them, there was no way to see past. Which was probably why Harry ended up in the Shrieking Shack tonight, drinking himself blind.
Draco killed Lucius and he killed Narcissa. Whatever weird, animalistic instincts took over veela halflings, it was apparently able to ignore very terrible facts like that. Harry couldn't. He knew how horrible it was to have your parents be murdered and he had just been a baby at the time. Malfoy was fully aware of the horrors that had happened and whatever his veela blood was doing to him, it didn't warrant forgiveness.
Now, apparently, Harry had fucked up any other family connections for the boy. Terrence had been shipped off to wherever they kept full-blooded veela assholes with a very big chip on his shoulder that would likely keep Draco from ever being welcomed back. And fuck—Harry honestly didn't feel bad. Because he fucking hated the veela and hated that Malfoy had ever left with them in the first place. Draco should have stayed with him. They should have fucking talked the second he had regained consciousness and tried to figure something the fuck out.
“Damn it,” he growled, getting unsteadily to his feet so he could explode the broken bits of furniture around the room properly.
It wasn't fucking fair! How dare Malfoy still want him after all this. He had fucked up beyond all reproach, had killed a house full of Death Eaters, and that fucking prat could cry over missing him these last months? He had iced Harry out—had been a fucking stone around him every time they made eye contact. How dare Draco feel underneath it all while Harry had been bleeding raw the whole fucking time!
“Hate him... fucking hate him...” Now he was supposed to just talk to him? What, have like some fucking pity party over how it had all gone to shit that night? Grunting, Harry glared at the banister leading to the stairs, each wooden rung exploding one after the other in a shower of splinters and green smoke. Harry didn't need to go over how he had fucked up. He had gone over it so many fucking times in his head as it was.
Malfoy thought he rape him... The fucking moron.
Harry would have taken a seat next to Voldie and downed a glass of poison to have a chance at Draco. Even now, pissed out of his skull, legs unresponsive, and angry as fuck, if Malfoy walked in there, Harry wouldn't think twice to get on his knees and take anything the boy wanted to give him. Fucking idiot.
“Hate you!” Harry slammed his arm into the wall, scowling as his bottle of Firewhisky shattered all around him. With a sloppy spell, it was back together, allowing him to throw it across the room with a more satisfying glitter of glass. He stumbled up the stairs, glaring at the bedroom door hanging off its hinges until it relented and exploded.
He would not let Malfoy forgive him. Holy fuck, the boy had to be out of his fucking mind. He had killed his mother. His fucking mother! If anything was going to kill a relationship before it started, that was it. Fucking veela. He shouldn't be forgiven, no matter how fucked in the head Malfoy was.
“Fuck, he's a good kisser.” Harry fell to his knees, halfway in the bedroom door, his head heavy but anger still burning strong. Missed him. Draco had missed him. What a fucking moron.
For an instant Terrence's pain twisted body flashed in his mind's eye. Harry snorted, chuckling as he fell forward, face slamming into the rough floorboards and bruising his nose. “Drake, you are one hot psycho when you're angry,” he mumbled.
God, he had wanted to fuck him so bad. In the forest after the rogue was dead and Garruth incapacitated. Malfoy belonged in the woods, hunting things, hurting things, covered in the blood of his enemies. So what if it meant Harry was fucked up? Malfoy was a killing machine, and it was so fucking hot.
He was not a good drunk, he was realizing as the floor wobbled nauseatingly.
Keep him. Fucking veela. They were just as bad as humans. Everyone wanted a piece of Harry fucking Potter. Well Harry fucking Potter was tired of being him. He should have beat Terrence himself. Should have exploded his fucking fingers instead of Malfoy carelessly breaking them. Fighting over him like a quaffle—Why? Because of some fucking scent? Because he could weave a spell? Terrence had said... had said he was made for veela.
Was that really all it was for Malfoy, just some sex scent gone crazy in his head? Harry hadn't bothered to study up on veela and, after his run ins, had chosen to avoid anything to do with them including research. All he knew was that he hated them even more so after learning what their council intended for him. Own him. Fucking own him. Fucking arrogant, piece of shit, manipulative predators. He would show them what it meant to mess with Harry fucking Potter.
He killed seventeen people with one fucking spell by accident. Just think what he could do if it was on purpose.
The floor dusty beneath his scraped cheek, Harry closed his eyes. Fucking veela.
Missed him. A lot.
Harry exhaled a long sigh, fingers curling on the ground. “Miss you, too.”
Stuck in the Headmaster's office, facing Dumbledore, Elder Hollands, and Madame Pomfrey, Draco was doing his best to keep his temper in check. It was about Potter, of course. The boy had disappeared days ago, no one seeing hide nor hair of him. He assumed it was another of Harry's passive aggressive ways to avoid him and the many things they needed to talk about. Draco hadn't deluded himself in thinking Harry would make it easy. Harry was erratic and stubborn and had spent months thinking he had sent veela to rape him. There was no way that was going to fix itself over night.
Draco had first thought Elder Hollands, the veela spokesman, had come there to reprimand him for his actions against Terrence. No, his reason had managed to be far more annoying than that.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you might just have some insight into his whereabouts?” Dumbledore asked. “It's imperative that we find Harry as soon as possible. If what Elder Hollands says is correct, he could be in a lot of danger.”
“He's fine,” Draco grunted out, glaring at the veela. “And even if I did know where Potter is, I'm sure as hell not telling him.”
“I understand that you're upset right now,” Holland said, his handsome face stern, back straight and tight with perfect posture. “I don't even understand how you've coped this long, Draco. You should have told us immediately when we took you into our care. We could have avoided what is undoubtedly unbearable pain for the both of you.”
“Like fuck,” Draco snarled, standing and pushing into the man's personal space. For the Elder's credit, he didn't flinch or step away. “You would have broken it somehow. Would have torn us both apart so you could chain him to some full-blooded veela. I never would have let you in this castle if I had known you were interested in him. Would have killed every fucking last one of you—”
“Mr. Malfoy! Calm yourself,” Poppy admonished. “I have brought the needed draughts with me if you cannot handle this conversation without losing your control.”
“I am in perfect fucking control,” Draco gritted out, never taking his eyes from the veela Elder. “Ask him. I found out that every goddamn veela out there is fighting over who gets to win Potter—That's how they see humans, if you didn't know. Things. They think Potter is some fucking thing that they can just give away to another. Like they own him. I have killed no one; I am in control.”
“It's more complicated than that, Draco,” Elder Holland said stiffly. “You have gotten your information from an adolescent, one still in the throes of his aggressive mating cycle.”
“What, you want to tell me he was lying?” Draco kept his voice low, knowing if he started shouting it would all go to shit soon after. “The council isn't trying to win Potter?”
“That is not...” Holland fell silent, flicking a loose strand of silver hair over his shoulder. “No one is authorized to approach Harry Potter until he has come of age next summer. And when that time comes, adolescents are discouraged from participating because of the dangerous nature of the boy's power. It is important that we remedy this situation as soon as possible. That Terrence has aggressively—”
“Twice,” Draco growled, the first of his feather's sprouting, fangs already tipping, claws quickly following. “The first time I wasn't there to stop him. Did Terrence tell you that as well, Elder? That when my supposed brethren entered this castle at the beginning of the year, all five of them hunted Potter down with the intent to rape him?”
By the surprised looks all around, that information had not reached veela or professor ears alike. For some reason it only made Draco angrier to realize Harry had managed to suffer so much alone, not only blocking him out, but his teachers as well.
He stepped back, the rest of his feathers rippling through him along with his anger. But he wasn't here to fight with the Elder, he was here to keep the man from making things worse. “I invited my brethren into my territory because they had shown signs of wanting to get to know my other people better. They lied to my face, wished me well in my endeavors and then tried to rape my beautiful mate. Do you seriously think anything you say is going to remedy this?”
The Elder was silent as he thought, eyes straying to Dumbledore, who had lost all twinkle in his blue gaze.
“This doesn't change the fact that he's in danger,” Elder Holland finally said, directed at the Headmaster. “If anything, he'll be more unstable and in need of guidance.”
“That may be the case, but I can hardly trust you to protect him. These revelations are beyond grievous,” Dumbledore replied sternly.
“The boy could be lying,” Elder Holland pointed out, ignoring Draco's growl. “Potter looking for attention to feed his self destructive spiral. The halfling desperate to have Potter to himself. You really don't know just how strong these instincts can go.”
Dumbledore sat taller at his desk, his fingers bridging in front of him. “Oh, I'm getting a clear picture, Elder. All the more reason for me to believe that five adolescent veelas with full instincts would cross a line that their kind have been known to cross before. I might be willing to offer lodgings for a veela that would help Harry with his new instincts, but I do not believe I will be granting him leave of these grounds during the school year.”
Pensive, the Elder eventually nodded. “Very well. I will need to confirm that he is indeed a Gilt before anything else is determined. Mr. Malfoy, if you would happen to have the names of those adolescents that accompanied you to your school, I require them for further investigation.”
Draco wrote them down with an angry scrawl, hating the man even more. Nothing would be done. Veela didn't give a fuck about humans—He had figured that out very damn quick. If anything was done, it would be just for show, to set Harry's mind at ease. It wouldn't be enough, whatever it was. Nothing would ever be enough to fix what those fuckers had done to his Harry.
Reading the parchment, Holland folded it up and slipped it into his long, grey robes. “Alright. Now, if you will lead me to Mr. Potter, I can get on with the point of my visit.”
Draco just stared at him, disbelieving. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”
“Because if you care a thing for the boy, you will see that he is in need of help,” Elder Holland said evenly, without any animosity or smugness. “From what your professors have revealed, his health has been degrading along with his mental stability since returning to school. You must feel it. The boy will be poisoning you soon enough with his toxic energy, if he isn't already.”
Draco looked away, glowering.
“It is not a betrayal to get him help. That he turns from you as well only shows how ill he truly is.” The man's hand was cool on Draco's arm, jolting him. “Gilt veela are emotionally erratic under good circumstances. His circumstances have been anything but.”
A war was waging in Draco, one with too many sides to fully comprehend. He wanted Harry well and safe and happy. He wanted Harry for himself. He wanted to be the only one that could help the boy even though he knew he had been failing miserably at the task since the very beginning.
“I don't know what to do,” Draco finally admitted, his heart feeling painfully tight in his chest. “You're... you're going to try to take him away from me.”
Hands cupped Draco's face, raising his head to meet the Elder's gaze. “He was never truly yours.”
Draco winced, shutting his eyes.
“He couldn't have known what it meant to you,” Holland continued gently. “His type wake up slowly. Genetic memory kicks in much later for the Gilt. That he survived his first weave was accomplishment enough for one just waking up. Call him, Draco.”
Draco wrenched himself away from the man's hands, his body trembling. “Fuck you.”
“Call your love to you and see if he bothers to answer.” By the Elder's tone, he didn't expect it. Neither did Draco. Harry never answered him. Not once had the boy come to him when he called.
Harry felt it, tendrils of warmth and light curling up his legs. He was half awake, staring blankly at the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He had somehow managed to end up in the broken kitchen downstairs, although how he had gotten there was a mystery to him.
His mouth tasted like a gutter and his joints were stiff and pained. Rolling on his back, he found the ceiling, a huge hole gaping above him revealing the bedroom above where he had been in. Vaguely he remembered waking up, angry, lashing out and exploding everything around him. Apparently the floor hadn't been able to handle it.
“Drake?” Harry sat up stiffly, grabbing his pounding head. God, he felt like shit. Fucking Terrence. This was definitely all his fault. And Dren's. If Dren hadn't been in that damn clearing, Malfoy never would have known a fucking thing about him wanting the blond... Well, except that apparently the boy could smell him... Fuck.
Groaning, Harry got to his feet, the world shifting around him. “Shit... what the fuck do you want?” He grumbled, the boy's power licking at the edge of his consciousness. What day was it? Didn't Malfoy know he was hung over and didn't want to fucking talk to him, like ever? Shit, what a pain. Harry stumbled to the door, stooping through the underground entrance to the Shrieking Shack. He blinked his way outside, nearly getting bowled over by the willow before he remembered to spell it still.
Draco was out on the grounds, Harry freezing mid step once seeing him. The halfling had a strange mix of sorrow and hope on his face Harry was having difficulty reading. “Err... hey,” he greeted, eyes skimming over the three adults standing behind Draco and watching him like he was about to start killing people. They were far less interesting than the silver haired boy and he focused in on Draco's eyes that were no longer glowing. “You, um, wanted something, Malfoy?”
Draco made as if to step forward but a hand clasped down on his shoulder, keeping him still and silent. Harry narrowed in on it, glaring at the pale man standing behind the boy.
“Who's the veela?” Harry asked, his guard immediately up. He still felt like shit and seeing a full grown veela was not helping anything. “You better not be here to punish Malfoy. It was my fault what happened to Terrence, not his. It it wasn't for Malfoy, I would have killed the asshole.”
“My name is Elder Holland,” the man said, dismissing Harry's angry rant. “I'm here to determine just what exactly you are, Mr. Potter, and how to help you.”
Scoffing, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, walking up to the group. “Listen, man, I don't actually care who you are. Just get your fucking hands off of Malfoy and get lost. I have no interest in your damn veela crap. Actually, I'm pretty sure I was straight with Terrence about this. If you're here looking to fucking own me—or so help me, you try to touch me—I'm going to fucking lose it.” He grabbed Draco's arm, the taller boy's eyes widening in surprise when Harry snagged him away from the Elder in a show of possessiveness.
“What did you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked, barely glancing at Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey, his head ducked down to whisper to the blond. “You don't do that pull thing unless you're losing it or looking for me, and you don't look like you're losing it... Are you?” Harry tilted his head, studying Draco's face a long moment.
Swallowing hard, Draco gave a nonchalant shrug that looked stiff more than anything. “They want to talk to you. Asked me to get you.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, looking away for a moment. He turned back, sighing in exasperation. “Don't... don't waste my time like that, Malfoy. If you want me, call me. Don't do it for someone else. Fuck.” He shook his head, making as if to leave but Draco curled fingers around his wrist, holding him still.
“I didn't think you'd actually answer,” Draco said quietly, pinning Harry with an unreadable expression. “You always walk away.”
“Yeah, well, things are different now.” Draco wasn't glowing but even just having him close, warmth radiating from his skin, familiar masculine scent and sexy, elegant feathers was driving Harry to distraction. The fingers on his wrist felt like electricity and before he had realized it, he turned in the grip so that he captured Draco's arm while the boy held his. “I'm... well, shit. I'm trying. I mean, I just went on a brooding bender and all but I'm trying to piece it together like it actually happened and not how I spent the fucking year thinking it happened. So, eventually, I'm probably going to stop being so pissed off at you because you didn't actually do all those things I thought you fucking did. You know?”
Draco nodded silently, his expression still revealing nothing. It was actually starting to piss him off, the boy being cold to him again. Except his hand. His hand was anything but indifferent, Draco's claws scratching ever so lightly against his arm, sending shivers of lust through Harry's entire body. Shit, he must be really hard up if a few little scratches were doing it for him. And Draco had to know, his nose able to pick up his arousal. So even if the blond was totally a mask to read, he kept lightly tracing over his arm, clearly intent to drive him crazy. And Harry really wasn't complaining about it.
Harry didn't let go of Draco's hand even when he turned and finally addressed his headmaster. “So, why am I here?” He asked, staring Dumbledore in the eye.
“A few reasons, actually,” Dumbledore said, hardly nonplussed that Harry had skipped school and still managed to seem put out for being called back. “But I'd say the most pertinent would be discovering if you're a Gilt veela or not, so our guest can finally be on his way.”
Eyebrows raised, Harry glanced over to Draco. “Err, I don't really think I look much like a veela, Sir. And I don't just mean feathers here.”
Dumbledore gave a small smile. “I can see how you might think that. But there are different species of veela and the fact that you destroyed Voldemort by weaving a spell suggests you may be a very specific breed.”
Harry absorbed this information with a furrow to his brow. “Huh... part veela. This might end up with me hating myself even more than before. Alright, what do I have to do for you to figure it out? Nasty potion? Blood draw?”
“Nothing so barbaric,” Elder Holland broke in, stepping forward. “I will pull you and you—”
“No,” Harry said hoarsely, taking a large step back, hand tightening around Draco's wrist. “No way in fuck I'm letting anyone pull me.” A full-blooded, fully grown veela was more a threat than the five punk kids that had cornered him in the classroom. Veela magic only grew with age, as did their control. And Harry could feel it in this man. The power. The confidence of control. The ease he would use to try and break him just because he fucking could.
“It's just for the test, Harry,” Dumbledore said soothingly. “We're all right here. No one will... No harm will come to you.”
Harry just shook his head, his panic growing to realize that Dumbledore wouldn't be supporting him on this. “No. I don't want—I can't—I just can't. And if he tries something, I can't promise I won't fucking lose it. Just get him away and, and shit, I'm serious!” He shouted, taking another step back when the man began to ripple feathers and glow.
Suddenly Draco was in his line of sight, the boy wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders. And damn, but Harry couldn't stop himself from burying his face into the blond's chest while he gasped for air as unfamiliar veela energy rose around him. Too strong. The man was way too strong, threatening to overwhelm him, steal his will away.
“I have you,” Draco muttered, glaring over Harry's head at the other veela. “You need to stop this!” But Harry didn't notice, too busy pulling his power up, weaving a barrier to stop the call currently trying to push him down to the ground.
“Get him off me, Malfoy,” Harry hissed, feeling something underneath the call trying to probe him, read him, change him in some way he had never agreed to. “I'm so sick... of you fuckers... taking from me!”
Harry wasn't sure what happened next, his panic and anger cracking something inside him. His power rose up, a curtain of protection, and then the Elder was on the ground, gasping for air. All Harry knew was that the pressure had stopped and he felt dizzy and full of fear, the world tilting the wrong way.
“You never should have gone against his wishes like that,” Draco snarled from far away. “You could have waited to let him calm—Could have bothered to explain to him. Asked for his permission! What did you honestly expect? You might as well have attacked him.”
“Madame Pomfrey, can you...?”
“I'm doing the best I can, Albus, but he's losing energy quickly. I think... You need to stop Harry.”
Suddenly the darkness faded and Harry was eye to eye with Dumbledore. He wasn't sure when he had ended up on the grass but the man's long nose was inches from his. “Harry, can you hear me?”
Harry nodded weakly, the world spinning from the motion.
“You're still connected with the Elder. You need to let him go. You have him wrapped in your power. Do you understand me, Harry? You need to release him or he's going to die.”
Harry didn't understand. He hadn't wrapped anyone in anything. At least, he didn't remember doing such a thing. Closing his eyes, he sifted internally, seeking out the threads of golden power that were reaching outside of him. He followed the strands, finding the Elder veela like a fly within a web, struggling weakly, heart and lungs wrapped so tight they could barely move. For one terrible, angry moment, he felt the hot pulse of what it would be like to just pull a little tighter, to crush the man that had so easily filled him with unbearable fear.
Harry breathed and he let go. His anger. The veela. The unfairness of the world for demanding so much of him unapologetically. He unraveled his energy and twined it back within, then he shook on the ground, hands buried in his hair.
“Oh, thank god,” Madame Pomfrey murmured, throwing status spells up while gently slapping the Elder's face. Harry watched, feeling numb and empty inside as the man came to, Dumbledore and Draco also by the veela's side.
He had fucked up. Again. Had nearly killed someone just because he had been scared. God, he couldn't do anything right. Couldn't fucking get anything straight in his damn head.
Harry struggled to his feet, determined to get the hell as far away from everyone that he could. But Draco was at his side in an instant, pulling him close, trapping his arms when he tried to break away. “Let me go!”
“You were defending yourself,” Draco said evenly, holding Harry's fists in place. “You thought he was going to hurt you and you defended yourself.”
Fuck, was he a fucking mind reader now? “Get off me, Malfoy. I don't need your goddamn pity or understanding—or whatever the fuck—Oh.” He fell silent, Draco slamming him into his chest with a growl. Damn he was hot.
“You are fucking amazing,” Draco rasped, breathing deep against his neck and ear. “Do you even understand how powerful an Elder veela is? Less than a minute and you had him completely subdued and defenseless. My god, Harry—You're magnificent.” Hands tangling in his dark hair, Draco pulled him up, hot mouth descending and claiming his possessively.
Ignoring the fact that he was in four day old clothes, likely tasted like death and reeked of stale booze, Draco wrapped Harry into his arms. Moaning, Harry hooked an arm around the blond's neck, tearing at the boy's shirt, drinking down every noise Draco let loose.
“God, you're beautiful. Fucking... brilliant.” Biting at Harry's lip harshly, Draco nipped down the boy's jaw and throat, pulling loud gasps. “The things you do to me...”
“That, unfortunately, is the reason Elder Holland has traveled here.” Before Harry could fully discern Dumbledore's words, he found himself again on the ground, the strange dizziness of earlier sweeping through him. This time Draco was with him, the boy lurching sideways as he struggled to keep his balance.
“Elder, I can assume you have gotten the information you were seeking?” Dumbledore asked the still slightly stunned man.
“Yes.” Smoothing his long hair down, the veela stood tall again, eyes sweeping to where Harry was fighting gravity on the ground. “He is a Gilt and given his overly emotional reactions, soon to transform. He will need training. Immediately.” He met Dumbledore's eye, his expression growing grim. “I would isolate him from all veela interaction. His ability to corrupt his own will only add to his confusion when he reaches his next stage.”
Harry finally found his balance, glaring at the two of them. “Stop talking about me like I'm not even here. And shit—Seriously, that was really fucking rude what you just did there.”
“You're not yourself,” Madame Pomfrey said tightly while casting status spells over Harry. “You're erratic, unstable, emotionally explosive—”
Harry scowled, pulling away. “I'm a teenager. Not everything is life and death. If I want to kiss Malfoy, I don't need you trying to 'save' me from it. Sure as hell didn't ask you to sic a fully grown veela on me after having to fight Terrence off days ago. Are you trying to fuck me up even more? Where the hell is Sirius? You're not doing another goddamn thing to me without my guardian present. You never would have done anything like this to any other student without their parents present—None of this is okay!” He was yelling by the time he was done, breathing heavily, anger crackling around him in electric sparks.
Draco found his feet as well and with a warning glare at the adults present, wrapped an arm around Harry's angry form and pulled him close. “They think you're going to go nuts and start killing for the fun of it. They want to bond you to an older veela to keep you stable. That's what Terrence was trying to do. They want someone strong enough to overpower you to keep you in line.”
“Well fuck that, I don't want to be controlled,” Harry hissed, directing it towards the elder veela even while pressing into Draco's touch. “And if any of them try it, I make no apologies for my actions.” There was a fire in Harry's eyes, a stubbornness that had not worn no matter how exhausted he was. No, it had only seemed to grow. But that was Harry. Pure will.
As if to prove just how beyond everyone's reach he was, the brunette pulled from Draco's hold and began walking away towards the castle.
Draco, glaring at the Elder that had started this mess, whirled, following after the boy and falling in step beside him.
“Mr. Malfoy, please don't do anything rash,” Elder Hollands called after, his voice full of command. “Reestablishing the bond at such a time could harm you permanently.”
Draco kept walking, his shoulder's stiff, a low growl rumbling through the tall boy.
Harry didn't say anything, just glancing his way a moment. He wasn't yelling at him to get lost—something Draco knew the brunette was more than willing to do when he wanted him gone—so he took it as a good sign and committed himself to repairing any trust he might have fucked up by calling Harry to the meeting with Elder Hollands.
He never should have let anyone interfere. Things were fucked up enough between the two of them without adding a nosy veela with ulterior motives into the mix. It didn't remove the unease he felt though. Harry was messed up, unstable and dangerous. He didn't want to hurt the boy more, even if every cell in his body was screaming to mate him again, make him his. It wasn't safe.
Glancing his way again, Harry's fingers brushed against his hand, the brunette lingering for a moment. Draco inhaled sharply, nearly losing a step from the simple contact. “You still want to talk?” Harry asked quietly.
What Draco really wanted to do was dig a hole so deep he'd never have to face this fucking topic ever again. “Yeah. It's important,” he finally said, spreading his fingers wide until he found Harry's hand inches from his own and touched again.
“Alright. I need a shower first.”
Draco paused once they were inside the castle, Harry stopping to look at him. “I'll meet you at—”
Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing the blond's hand and walking again, Draco stumbling forward, eyes wide in surprise. Keeping his mouth shut, he let Harry lead him to the closest men's room with showers, his stomach clenched tight with nerves.