SCENE #The enchancubus

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.

SCENE #A confounded spell

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.

SCENE #Healing Harry

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.

SCENE #The dream

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.

SCENE #17 lives of guilt

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.

SCENE #Harry’s protectors

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.”

“You’re sweating.”

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.

SCENE #A simple kiss

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.

SCENE #The rogue

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?”

Kill me!

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.”

“Harry…”

“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.

SCENE #Infected

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.

SCENE #Draco dreams

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.

SCENE #Veela physiology

“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.

SCENE #The veela Terrance

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?”

“Y-Yes…”

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.

“Yeah?”

“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.

“Soon, Potter.”

“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.

SCENE #Troubled Harry

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.”

SCENE #Web of manipulation

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.

SCENE #Draco’s call

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.

SCENE #Harry needs Draco

“Dren is looking to take the wolf back to his home now that he’s healed. And the cubs are well, running about and apparently taking a liking to Lupin. I never would have thought a werewolf would have any positive effect on an animal, given the scent the creatures give off…” Draco was rambling and couldn’t stop it. Harry had stalked into the bathroom with him in tow, stripped right in front of him and then jumped into a shower stall. It was taking all of his restraint not to follow after and look, touch, fuck the boy senseless.

“Okay,” Harry said, his voice echoing in the tiled room. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Draco shook his head, the brunette unable to see. Just the sound of Harry’s voice, knowing he was feet away, naked, wet… No, this had not been a good idea. “I can’t speak of the other thing like this. I need to see your face. Your reactions.”

Huffing, Harry pushed the stall door open, Draco’s freezing in shock as the boy stood before him sleek with water and nothing else. Hard. Fuck the boy was hard. “Better?”

God, what the fuck was he doing to him? Groaning, Draco forced himself to turn away, glaring at the wall so he didn’t have to see every bare inch of Harry’s warm flesh and toned muscle. His eyes were glowing, he knew it, but could do little about it.

Shrugging, Harry let the door swing shut, soaping himself up and ducking his head under the spray of hot water. Having Draco just outside the stall was doing something to him, and not just the trickles of the boy’s warm call. He let his hand slip lower, grunting as he wrapped his fingers around his hard cock and stroked slowly. The spell to protect himself from the Elder had gotten him hard. It seemed a side effect of sex magic, arousal, and Draco right outside after just defending him, having kissed him only minutes ago was maddening.

He leaned forward in the shower, bracing his hand against the wall, smirking when he heard Draco snarl in frustration. Could the boy smell him? Could he hear every slick movement of flesh on flesh, every small, needy gasp he made. He really hoped the boy could. If Harry couldn’t have him in the stall he at least wanted the blond to feel as crazy as he was.

Harry kept his gaze straight ahead when the stall door swung open, Draco’s presence filling the doorway. He continued to stroke, groaning when a large hand pressed against the flesh of his ass and squeezed.

“Tell me to leave,” Draco rasped out, his voice full of unrestrained need.

Biting his lower lip, Harry remained silent beyond his soft pants for air. Draco took a hesitant step closer, water hitting his clothes and bouncing off loudly.

“I’ll go if you tell me to,” Draco insisted, his hand moving slowly up Harry’s sleek side.

“Stay,” Harry whispered, his back arching when Draco ran his hot palm down his spine. “Fuck.”

Draco inhaled sharply, Harry wondering if the blond had taken his curse as a command. He wouldn’t mind—God, he really wouldn’t fucking mind. He needed Draco inside him. Needed the boy to fix it all and he could think of no other way.

***

SCENE #The other side of grief

He was late for breakfast and Draco was surprised to find Blaise and Pansy waiting for him. Chatting with his friends were Weasley and Granger who were sitting across at the Slytherin table. The Great Hall was nearly empty, but still, it was a bizarre sight.

“Are you two lost?” Draco sat down between his friends and stared pointedly at the Gryffindors.

“Nope, just wanted to say hi to Harry,” Ron replied cheerfully.

Draco glanced at Blaise and Pansy, who did not seem remotely surprised at the news. “And you just assume Potter’s following me around everywhere I go?”

“Duh. Given the chance, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t.”

Draco sighed. He was getting somewhat annoyed with everyone insinuating Harry had a thing for him. Then again, he was late because he ended up having to heal all the fucking bites Potter left on his neck from the night before, so maybe there was a damn point to it. “I haven’t eaten yet, and I would prefer to enjoy my breakfast without having to write at the same time.”

Hermione waved her hand airily. “No really, just to say hi. I doubt he wants to write all the time either. Oh, and to let you know Dumbledore’s specialist has arrived and is waiting down in Snape’s office when you’re done.”

“Okay.” Draco started eating, only to realize the Gryffindors were content to stay where they were, talking to Pansy about something. “Am I missing something here?”

“Just catching up on the feathers and scale thing.” Blaise grinned wickedly.

“Ah… crap.” Scowling, Draco began to shovel food into his mouth to prevent anyone from asking questions. Harry hovered behind him by his shoulder, not touching him for a change. Draco couldn’t tell if he was upset, or what. Harry hadn’t touched him the entire morning, except for a brief moment when Draco held his hand out to make sure the invisible boy was out the bedroom door.

Draco wasn’t oblivious to the relationship Pansy and Blaise had with Potter’s old tag-a-longs, but this was the first time it was blatantly flaunted in front of him. It was a bit odd, but then, so were his friends and he didn’t have an interest in losing them over something as trivial as lions.

“You told them to keep it hush about Potter, right?” Draco asked. “The wrong people could hurt him.”

“Yes, although I still don’t see how that can happen,” Ron said, looking around as if he expected to see Harry. “You’re the only one he can touch.”

“And magic,” Blaise added. “Magic can do a lot of things, even if it’s as simple as caging him and squashing him flat.”

Draco was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t even thought of that, fixated on his fear of someone taking over his body to attack Harry. Without thinking, he reached up behind him until hesitantly Harry touched his hand.

Seeing Draco’s distressed look, not to mention how pale Harry’s friends had gotten, Blaise added quickly, “If anyone could even see him to find him. He did defeat the Dark Lord, after all.”

“No, you’re right,” Draco muttered. “We should be testing him to see if he is effected by our magic.” Draco let go of his hand, only to have Harry wrap around his shoulders and lean on him. His hot breath ruffled Draco’s hair. Apparently he’d given the paw me and hover signal.

Pansy gave Draco a long glance and eventually pointed to his hair. “Bit clingy, huh?”

“Something like that.” He ignored her amused smirk and went back to eating. Granger and Weasley started talking to Harry as if he could answer back. They went over all the things that went on at school that year, what he missed, and how they kept his things in storage at the Burrow. It all blurred in Draco’s mind, especially when Harry shifted. Heat suddenly was on his neck as Harry leaned onto his shoulder for support.

“Potter, are you alright?” he asked quietly. Harry’s face was now pressed against his throat. Draco suddenly groaned and grabbed the idiot by his messy hair as Harry licked up the side of his neck. “Fucking ass! Last time I worry about you!” He shoved Harry backward and tried to ignore how his neck was tingling, his cheeks were flushed, and everyone was staring at him.

Ron burst out laughing and Hermione shook her head in a cross between amusement and reprimand. “Harry, that’s not very polite.”

Draco realized they must have seen his hair move. He covered his face with his hand as Pansy cackled in his ear. “You know, I don’t have to take this. I don’t have to help that stupid wanker, and I don’t have to hang around and let you lot make fun of me.”

“No—No one is making fun, I swear!” Ron choked out between laughs. “It’s him… laughing at him… He used to say something about… making you untidy.”

Draco scowled and moved his hand up to find Potter had ruffled his hair into a mess before being thrown back. “For fuck sake.” He combed his hair back into place, and met Blaise’s twinkling eye.

“I’m sure he’ll stop if you stop reacting to him. He seems like a five year old.”

As if to prove his point, Harry suddenly wrapped arms around Draco, pulled him back on the bench and held him tight against his chest as he whispered something into his ear he could not hear.

Draco twitched, the air very ticklish and skin very warm. He watched as Harry lifted his writing hand and held it out for a pen. Hermione was ready, quill and parchment placed before them. Draco was only just getting the suspicion whatever Potter was going to say would likely be just as bloody annoying as his current behavior, when Harry moved his hand across the paper.

Three year old. I’m very much in need of attention.

Pansy frowned and looked at Draco. “You sure you didn’t write that?”

Please, he’s pretty sure I’m just a dog humping his leg. Right Malfoy?

“Bitter and true.” Draco glared in the direction of Harry’s face.

“Oh Harry, what have you done?” Hermione asked woefully as she read the words upside down.

Well, you’re bloody wrong. And my friends will be happy to tell you.

“I don’t need your friends to tell me you’re a fucked up perv, Potter.”

Ron held the quill still before Harry could respond. “He’s in love with you and let’s leave it at that,” Ron said sternly. His eyes went to Draco’s very wide ones, then to where Harry was pressed into his hair again. “Harry, stop pestering him. He thought you were dead. We all thought it. Have some damn consideration.”

Draco wasn’t sure if he was more shocked the Weasel just said Harry was in love with him, or for berating Harry to protect him. He blinked down when Harry used his hand to write again.

Consideration? Try existing like a fucking ghost for nearly a year, all because some sick fuck didn’t have enough power to kill me.

It was Hermione’s turn. Her hands thumped flat on the table as she stood and glared at Draco’s shoulder as well. “You want a damn pity party? Think we’re going to all sit around and cry because you’re stuck and falling apart in that dimension? Not bloody likely, Harry. Buck the hell up and remember you’re coming back home. Start acting like it.”

Harry tightened around Draco, anger clear in his tense muscles. There was the echo of another spark, as if something jolted Harry around his back. Just as quickly, he was gone; Harry released Draco and stepped away. Draco grabbed the table in surprise to keep from falling backward.

“He’s pissed,” Draco muttered to no one in particular.

“He’ll get over it,” Ron said flatly. “He’s been alone for a long time and he needs to realize you’re a person, not just some fantasy. He probably thought you were dead, too.” He pushed himself up from the table and held his hand out to Hermione. “Come on. We have our whole Sunday still. You know he’ll sulk the day away.”

“Probably.” Hermione turned to Draco with an apologetic look. “Don’t let him bully you around. He’ll hate himself later for it. Whether he’s back and healthy or dies in that place.” She looked up and glanced around the room. “You know I’m right, Harry. Try and get your head on straight.”

Draco stared after their retreating backs. His eyes narrowed as he turned to his remaining friends. “Why would he think I was dead?”

Blaise looked away, but Pansy didn’t back down. “He heard us that night trying to convince you to keep living. Told them. They approached us around Christmas after he died. They didn’t want to talk to you about it but they were worried about you. We were all worried.” She stopped and stood as well. “They helped make it easier for us while we watched you fall apart. It’s been a damn difficult year.”

Draco didn’t say anything, studying his hands instead. He was barely passing his classes, barely eating, barely playing quidditch… barely living. Did he have to feel guilty for his friends’ suffering too?

Pansy didn’t leave right away. Her hand grazed Draco’s chin until he met her eye. “Not blaming you, just explaining how it’s been. We’re all very glad that you made it through.”

Draco nodded and let her kiss his forehead. “Sorry.” He pushed his plate away, not even remotely hungry anymore.

“Did you want me to come along with you?” Blaise was very still as he sat next to Draco.

Draco shook his head. He watched as Blaise got up and left the Great Hall to catch up with Pansy. “Shit. Don’t I feel like a fucking ass?”

He didn’t get an answer for a long time. Harry was off doing whatever it was he did to let off steam. Draco waited patiently. The rest of his day was going to be dedicated to figuring out how to get Harry back. He wasn’t resentful. A part of him wanted to be. A part of him wanted to want more than to spend time with Potter and try to save him. But he wasn’t. Draco was near happy he could help him, even with how annoying and frustrating things were between them.

Was that why Potter stared so much the end of last year? Harry discovered he was going to protect himself against Voldemort the only way he had available. By taking his life. For someone with a severe hero complex, Harry hadn’t said a goddamn word, or tried to do a damn thing. Draco appreciated it. It was his life, and his choice on what to do with it. That Harry loved him…

Well, that was a lot of food for thought.

Maybe Potter wasn’t a groping, pawing dog trying to get into his pants once he realized he liked guys. Maybe Harry didn’t even think he had some right to him because he killed Voldemort. Maybe he was just fucking lonely, and lost, and very much wanted to share feeling alive with another warm body. A warm body he apparently had feelings for since last year.

Harry was again across the table, Draco noticed with a start when a hand pushed into his aura of awareness. Draco slowly ran his hand over the table and stopped when his fingertips found Harry’s. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

Harry’s fingers brushed over his hand but Draco resolved to stay and not react angrily like he kept doing. He wasn’t angry Harry insisted on touching him, he realized. He was more angry he wouldn’t be able to have it always. Every touch was intense, hot and wild, and it made Draco jump. It was hard enough dealing with the madness it drove him towards and it would soon be taken away. Harry would be brought back and go on with his life as the savior of everything. While Draco would continue on his path of numbness with no more wild sparks to make him feel alive.

Harry’s hand stilled and rested lightly on his. With wicked impulse Draco pulled and smacked his hand over Harry’s. “How the hell did you beat snakehead with reflexes like that, hmm? I can’t even see you.”

He felt Harry’s hand twitch as he got ready to strike. Draco pulled his hand away with a smile. “Too slow—Hey!” Harry grabbed his wrist in his surprisingly strong grip and slowly pulled his hand closer.

“Don’t be a poor loser, Potter. Ah…” His lashes lowered as breath warmed his fingers. He felt words mumbled into his hand. Draco used his other hand to push the parchment and quill towards Harry but he didn’t seem interested. Lips pressed to his fingertips next. Draco took a shaky breath. His eyes flitted around the Great Hall, which was now empty of anyone else.

When Harry started to nip at one of his fingers, Draco wasn’t too concerned with being seen gasping and hand hanging in the air like a weirdo. He wondered what Harry’s expression looked like. Was it was intent on the fingers he was gently biting, or on his face to see him react. It was frustrating not to know, not to see him at all.

“Oh… oh, okay. I don’t know if…” Draco trailed off as Harry’s tongue slipped around his fingers. Two were pulled into his hot mouth and sucked down and Harry’s tongue lapped further to reach his palm. Maybe Potter was just a fucking dog trying to hump his leg every moment. Draco could feel his teeth, the brush of the roof of his mouth and then the flat of his tongue with absolutely nothing in front of him. He was torn between the damn delicious sensation and the bizarreness of it all.

Swallowing, he closed his eyes and carefully pulling his trapped finger out of Harry’s mouth. He lingered on the warm swell of flesh when he pressed into his lips. He couldn’t see the saliva but could feel it clinging to his flesh. It was such an odd thing; to be at the cusp of a window with no way to see the other side, but still, just so close. With his eyes closed it was far more real. Harry was just on the other side of his eyelids licking his hand like some perverted deviant.

That it was turning him on was more Draco’s problem than anything to do with the continued fact that Potter was totally messed up. He slowly extracted his hand from Harry’s and let it fall to the table again. When he opened his eyes, all their information revealed he was completely alone in the room. “Come on, Potter. Let’s get you fixed up already.”

SCENE #Jaz McVicar

Colin Jaz McVicar was the highest authority on dimensional planes and the creatures who exist and crossed between those planes. Unsurprising, the strange man was one of said beings. He existed in another realm simultaneously to the one everyone was currently inhabiting. He appeared to be in his late thirties. His white wavy hair was cut shoulder length and was stark contrast against his golden skin. He wore dark framed, narrow glasses, black lipstick and had the odd habit of nerding out in rants of information while humming obscure muggle music.

Severus, who just spent the last forty-five minutes with Jaz in his office explaining the situation, looked ready to throw him through a window. Preferably one connected to a tall tower. They were all currently standing around Snape’s desk. Harry watched from a corner while Jaz tried to explain what they needed to do next.

Harry didn’t exist with Jaz on any of the planes he was on but he didn’t doubt the man was within more than one. He could see a golden glow coming off Jaz, especially when viewed through the fifth plane where magic and Malfoy were easily recognized. Considering where the light flowed, Jaz probably had a tail and was much taller than his average height seen.

Although Harry was certain Jaz couldn’t see him, at the same time, he seemed to have Draco’s odd ability to know when he was near. His stare would point in Harry’s direction whenever he stood close enough. Harry had walked through Jaz a few times and startled the both of them from the odd sensation. Eventually Jaz insisted he stop and started babbling about energy switching while flipping through his never ending notebook.

“Now, Mr. Malfoy, you claim you have actual physical contact with Mr. Potter through the sharing of one plane. And this has been demonstrated, along with Mr. Potter’s interaction with a phoenix. Now, given that there are at least ten, and not the previously thought seven planes phoenixes dwell in, I feel focusing on Mr. Malfoy’s plane would be the fastest way to connect with Mr. Potter and then pull him back.”

“Is it that simple?” Draco asked, doubtful. “He said he ended up scattered from a huge explosion of magic and strewn across dimensions.”

Jaz nodded and riffled through his notes again. “Yes. Yes, but I have a suspicion Mr. Potter has always dwelled in at least one other plane besides ours. I know for a fact Tom Riddle, the fallen Dark Lord, did. I saw the spell first hand he used to cross the dimensions. Considering how Riddle fell and Potter didn’t suggests to me Potter may have always been in these five planes. Deeply embedded like yourself and I in our own, just never viewed from his current location… Which suggests he may be something a bit different than what we first thought… But what that could be, who is to say as long as…” Jaz looked up and met the confused expressions with his own confusion.

“You are rambling,” Severus snapped, his eyebrows knitted darkly. “Again. What must we do?”

Jaz pushed his glasses up his nose with a practiced move and tossed his notes aside on Snape’s desk. “Right. We must locate the dimension he’s in. First thing’s first. If you’re correct and he’s unraveling, specifically on the plane he shares with Mr. Malfoy, then that is the most important dimension to find. Again, it is just speculation at this point, but I believe his loss of connection with our world has ungrounded him. He’s in a limbo of sorts and although likely quite belonging where he is, without an anchor here he cannot sustain for too long. I’ve seen this actually with…”

Severus raised his hand to cut him off. “How do we find the dimension?”

Jaz waved his hand at Draco, his black talons glinting in the light. It was if he already explained it and was waiting for everyone to catch up. Confusion again flashed across his face when no one seemed to understand and Jaz went again for his notes.

Severus reached over and firmly took the book from his hands. “Mr. McVicar.”

“Jaz,” he corrected. He pushed his glasses again into place and stared up bemusedly at Severus’s stern expression.

Severus sighed in annoyance and his frown grew. “Mr. McVicar, what must we do with Draco’s help to find the dimension?”

“I will need his blood. A lot.” Jaz smiled and revealed sharp, pointed teeth. Draco shivered in response. “Also, a complete intake of his genetic history might alleviate a bit of that, depending if the dimension is already known. They’re like fingerprints, dimensions. Very similar, side by side and infinite in amount. It takes a lot to actually pin point exact ones, and even more difficult to entrench yourself once you do find it. But with the right spells, the right anchors…”

Harry stepped up to Draco while Jaz started another tangent. He placed a hand on his shoulder in show of support. Draco, naturally, threw him off. Malfoy was far less accommodating when other people were around, Harry was figuring out. He suspected it had to do with all the teasing tickling he inflicted in McGonagall’s class. Harry couldn’t feel the least bit sorry for it considering the results of said teasing afterwards.

He considered a moment and held Draco’s hand instead. Draco stiffened for a moment and then relaxed when Harry did nothing else. Maybe Ron and Hermione had something to it by not being so aggressive. It seemed stupid they didn’t think he was treating Draco like a person… but then, he couldn’t really remember how people were around each other.

Touching Draco because he could actually touch him seemed totally natural, if not obvious. That he hadn’t cared much if Draco wanted to be touched probably was a problem. Probably. He wasn’t certain Draco didn’t want to be touched no matter all his loud complaints. Actually, he was pretty certain he did and Harry was a lot of difficulty discerning the difference.

Jaz was saying something again after he finally and calmly wrested his notebook back from an irate Severus. “I understand your beast inheritance has not been awoken, Mr. Malfoy. Was that something you were considering to help in this process?”

“No,” Severus spoke up before Draco could answer. “Let him stay human.”

“Severus, I do believe you do not like what I am,” Jaz mused, looking him over as he peered up from his notes. Severus just raised an eyebrow brow, not denying or confirming. “Mr. Malfoy is no more human than myself; he just looks it. I look it, when I choose to. I’m sure Mr. Potter could be quite descriptive in just how non-human our glowing friend here is,” he said as he waved at Draco again.

“I can see some, such as the glow because my eyes and other senses are connected to my other dimension. Magic is a very visual experience there. From what I can gather, Mr. Malfoy’s sense of physical self through touch is in his dimension, along with his sense of smell and taste. Sight and hearing seem to be missing but that could change if he’s woken up. Having someone actually able to see Mr. Potter might be useful, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No,” Severus repeated. His was voice flat and left little room for discussion. “We will do without seeing Mr. Potter. Draco is not an experiment; he is someone caught up in all this. As his Head of House, it is my responsibility to make sure he is not exploited.”

“Exploited? You really don’t like me.” Jaz started flipping through his notes. He idly hummed to himself and completely ignored the glower sent his way. “Mr. Potter, do you have anything to add to our discussion, seeing as Mr. Malfoy has been spoken for?”

Harry raised his brows. No one bothered to get a quill and paper for him. “Er. You can’t hear me, can you?” he asked hesitantly. Given the silence, that was a no. He pulled at Draco’s hand when no one seemed willing to actually assist in him talking.

Draco blinked in his general direction, his brows furrowed for a moment. Harry rolled his eyes. He placed Draco’s hand to his head and nodded emphatically until he understood he wanted to talk.

“Ah, I need a quill.” Draco looked at his professor expectantly. Severus seemed relieved for something to do besides glare at the man infringing in his office. Odd to Harry, considering although a bit talkative, Jaz was fairly fun, not to mention helpful.

Draco sat at Harry’s urging and picked up a quill. Staring a moment at Draco’s bowed head, Harry bent down and wrapped an arm around his chest. He was getting used to the way Draco gasped and grew warm in response. Because Draco wanted him to touch him. Harry reached out his hand, grasped Draco’s, and stole a moment to stare at him from the side while Draco’s eyes fixed on the paper before him. Except silver quickly turned his way when Draco felt his breath so close. He really needed to stop breathing so much.

You mentioned waking Malfoy’s genetics up could help him sense more. What about me? If I’m in multiple dimensions like you think, would waking up my genetics help the situation?

Jaz hummed and notes again flipped. He sat on the side of Severus’s desk and missed the glare sent his way. “I was considering something like that, Mr. Potter, but the reality is, I can’t reach you to wake you up. Mr. Malfoy could through appropriate spells, but it would certainly require him to be woken for it, which is not an option.”

“Would it fix him?” Draco asked quietly. “I’d be willing, if it saved him.” Harry peered around so he could see his expression but Draco ducked his head.

This time Jaz held his hand up to interrupt Severus’s oncoming rant. “There is no guarantee. It’s never been done before, to my knowledge. Mr. Potter’s situation is unique because usually one does not cross dimensions unless one is made for it to begin with. Most in his situation ended up there from their own neglect in spellwork and…”

Severus cleared his throat, his long fingers tapping to keep the man from rambling again. “What would the likelihood be, Mr. McVicar, of Potter being saved by transforming?”

“Ah. I don’t honestly know.” Jaz turned and casually leaned his hip on the desk. He placed his notebook flat on the surface to page through and stopped to read a line. “We don’t know what Potter is, do we? No… Really, do we?” he asked as he blinked up at Severus.

“No. He said he is dark to see, with light cracking through his skin.”

“And that could just be signs of his poor condition, not even his actual form,” Jaz hummed. “Waking him up while still in limbo could possibly do harm. Or good. Like I said, it’s a unique case. It would be best to approach in the most known way and find the dimension.”

“So, how much blood are we talking about here?” Draco asked nervously.

“Oh, a few pints or so. Maybe more. No more than half of what you have.”

“Mr. McVicar!” Snape snarled as his hands slammed on his desk. “That would kill him!”

Still riffling through notes, Jaz didn’t bother to look up. “Severus, I have been clear. I prefer to be called Jaz.”

Harry was fairly certain Snape reached his hexing point. He’d never seen Snape attempt to bodily harm someone, but apparently Jaz was just too much for his quiet sensibilities of potions and solitude.

“I was wondering when it was going to come to this,” Jaz mused lightly. His eyes raised from his notes as Severus grabbed him by his collar. “Is it my glasses? Too hipster for you? No, you wouldn’t know that term.”

It was not helping. Severus dragged him up and pulled Jaz towards his door. “You will not drain my student of his blood.”

“The lipstick, I think. You know, I get a lot of crap for the lipstick, but it’s really just the natural color of my lips.” Severus opened the door and Jaz stared out into the hallway. He raised his white eyebrows, and his blue eyes met very black, very angry eyes. “Well? Think you have it in you?”

Harry burst out laughing. Draco sighed in dismay when Snape gave a ferocious growl and shoved Jaz toward the hall. It didn’t work. Jaz planted in place and was suddenly very tall as the potions master leaned over in attempt to push him out.

In what could only be described as graceful, Jaz fluidly spun Severus, set him in his chair, and shut the door to the classroom where he leaned against it. Transformed, he was tall and narrow with a long, cat like tail that flicked languidly against the door. Jaz studied his claws and let Snape calm down. “Mr. Malfoy, the blood would not be all at once, of course. Ideally, we would find Mr. Potter before reaching such a volume, but I do not like to mince words when it comes to the things needed to sacrifice.”

Draco didn’t reply. He was too busy staring at Severus’s confused, dazed face. Severus was holding his head in both hands while hunched forward in his chair like he was going to be sick.

“Don’t mind him. It happens from time to time. He should be okay in about fifteen minutes.” Jaz reached for his notebook once again. “The energy creatures like us give off just rattles some people. It makes them a bit irrational at times. Volatile. Likely why your Mr. Potter was always getting into so many fights.”

Harry raised his brows at that. How he remembered thing, most of those fights were with Malfoy, who was apparently another creature.

Do unwoken creatures tend to react to each other?

“Oh my, yes. It’s usually how they wake up. Bit too much energy… mix some bloodlust in there. We’re all just animals at the end of the day.”

Draco slid his gaze toward Harry, his silver eyes a bit hazy. “Always violent, or maybe sometimes just, um, lust?”

Jaz grinned wickedly, his sharp teeth again making an appearance as he flipped through pages. “I would avoid sex with another creature, if that is your concern. Many wake up that way.”

“So there might be a drive, then?” Draco gnawed on his lip and looked determinedly away from Harry’s direction.

“Mmm, most assuredly. Usually initiated by scent, sometimes blood, too.” As if he just heard himself, Jaz glanced up and met Draco’s gaze. “You may not want to be so close that you can smell him. Scent can be a rather dangerous game.”

Draco swallowed and shifted forward from Harry’s embrace. The back of his neck turned red. “But, they’re not all the same. Not everyone is going to, uh, respond, right? He might not even be anything like me.”

“Oh, he’s something. Same dimension, with intense power and strength. Tell me, would you say he’s possessive at all?”

I’m right bloody here, you know. Harry scrawled. Jaz and Draco’s eyes drifted to the page but neither bothered to address him.

“Definitely relentless,” Draco said with lashes lowered. “Entitled, like he just expects agreement. Bold, with no sense of personal boundaries at all.”

“That does sound like the type. Jealous?”

“Yes. He seems to be intent to make sure other’s know just how bloody close he can get to me.”

It’s the only way to show I’m here.

“Bullshit. You grabbed me in the Great Hall just to show them you could,” Draco snapped. “Licked me right up my neck. Who the hell does that?”

Harry glared and then shrugged. He nuzzled into Draco’s neck and fanned hot breath on his skin. “Yeah, so who the fuck cares? Not like you don’t like it.” He was fairly certain Draco fucking loved it, given the way his pulse increased and body tightened and then relaxed into him.

“It sounds like he’s chasing you,” Jaz spoke slowly, his eyes tight to where Draco’s hair was shifting. “Might be, he even thinks he’s caught you, which would explain his lack of the more competitive, aggressive behaviors. There’s no competition on his particular plane.”

“Oh, we used to fight all the goddamn time when he was visible,” Draco said shakily. He tried to throw Harry off his shoulder and failed. “Competed in quidditch to the point of a lot of bloody fist fights—Potter, I am fucking warning you,” Draco growled.

Harry just smirked and kissed his neck again. He let his teeth slide over the sensitive flesh. “Hey, you’re the one ignoring me.”

Jaz raised a brow, his notes discarded on the table. “Has he ever fought over you, not just with you?”

Draco went to shake his head and then stopped. “Once, I think.”

“Mr. Potter? Have you?” Jaz asked as he looked in Harry’s general direction.

“Oh, so now everyone cares what I think.” Anthony Holt called him a death eater in training and I beat his face in. Harry wrote out.

“I was thinking about Boyle, actually,” Draco muttered.

Ah. I could see how you might think that.

“Because he tried to kiss me…”

Shouldn’t have done it in front of me.

“It was just a fucking game,” Draco snapped.

So is quidditch and I fucking own in that too.

“You arrogant, bullheaded piece of shit…”

Jaz snorted loudly. “Well it doesn’t get much clearer than that. I would recommend some space if you’re serious about staying human. You two are a damn powder keg.”

“I’ve been trying to get space but the bloody bastard won’t give it!” Draco snarled and attempted to pull himself from Harry’s arms when both suddenly wrapped around him tight.

Harry pushed forward and trapped Draco against his chest instead of the chair back. “Maybe if you would stop moaning every time I breathe on you, I’d be more willing to give you space.” Although, even then he probably wouldn’t. He’d try pull said noises from Draco in other ways.

“I think the first thing we need to do is make you a proper pen. This,” Jaz indicated Draco’s flustered form as he tried to free himself, “Is not helping matters.”

Draco nodded quickly, then yelped as Harry bit his neck. “He can touch things that hold enough magic.”

“Maybe we could wrap you in some sort of barrier? So that he can’t… He does not seem happy about that idea, does he?” Jaz hummed as Harry began to scrawl furiously with Draco’s hand.

Are you fucking serious? I haven’t had physical contact with another human being in nearly a year and you want to—

“Malfoy!” Harry growled when Draco slammed his free hand down on the quill.

“Potter, you will compromise and acknowledge some fucking boundaries, or I’m putting a barrier up and keeping it up.”

Glaring at the very determined look in Draco’s eyes, Harry slowly relaxed his hold around his torso.

“More,” Draco insisted.

I won’t be able to write if I let go.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

You look like you want to be fucked, you sexy prat.

“Son of a—You are so fucking dead!” Harry realized very quickly although Draco couldn’t punch through the chair to get at him, he was more than willing to grab him by the hair and shove him to the ground.

Jaz waited patiently. He seemed unperturbed Draco was fighting an invisible force and kicking the ground ferociously. “Careful, Mr. Malfoy. He won’t fight you back and he’s already damaged.”

“It’s Potter; of course he’ll fight back,” Draco snarled.

“Not anymore. Considering your description, he’s going to be clingy, aggressive, and absolutely yielding to anything you want. Except space, because he likely can’t help himself.”

Draco stopped his vindictive kicking when he realized although Harry was blocking his feet very well, he wasn’t actually lashing back. “I thought you didn’t know what he was?” he asked, his face flushed as he sat back down.

“Still don’t. This is more identifying common behavioral traits in beasts. The same way you’re showing the common signs of pursuit through hot and cold behavior, luring attention and then pushing away…”

“Bloody am not!”

Jaz tilted his head. “And likely making things very interesting, if not confusing for our invisible friend here.”

Harry sat up and licked his bloodied hand. “Fucking knew it, Malfoy. You’re a bloody fucking tease.”

“Ridiculous. Luring… I didn’t even know he was here until yesterday!”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and waited for him to grudgingly pick up the quill.

Scent, remember?

Draco scowled and refused to speak.

You Want Me.

“Potter I will wake up Snape so fucking fast, you won’t even understand how strong his protection spell will be!”

Jaz looked over at Severus, who had slipped from dazed into sleep at some point during the commotion. “That can’t be good. He must be particularly sensitive. Troubling, considering all the help I’m going to need from his potion work.” He pushed his glasses back from their slipped location and went to his bag across the room. “Alright gentlemen, I think it’s time we wrap this up. Mr. Potter, I will be taking some of Mr. Malfoy’s blood and I ask you be calm about it.”

Harry glanced up from where he was watching Draco’s emotions swiftly shift across his face while he kept reading the last line left on the page. He seriously doubted he was going to flip out over Draco getting a damn needle in the arm… Harry saw the wicked blade in Jaz’s hand and without any thought, pulled Draco up over the chair backward and across the room.

“It only looks gruesome, I promise,” Jaz said lightly. “The spell does the slicing and collecting. I just enchanted a weapon so no one would confuse it for something else.”

“Potter, you’re being ridiculous,” Draco muttered but Harry could see his was pale in fear.

“If you want, you can hold him steady. But it’s not going to hurt.” With a swift, fluid motion, Jaz crossed the room and pressed the blade to Draco’s inner arm.

Harry and Draco both stared. Draco went stiff in fear but not in pain. A container in Jaz’s hand swiftly filled with dark, deoxygenated blood and the blade was removed. Draco was left to stare blankly at the small drops of red left on his arm. Harry ran his finger over the fluid as he sought the wound, only to have the blood stick to his fingertips.

“Look at that.” Jaz hummed when he could see some shape to one of Harry’s fingers as the blood wrapped around his flesh. “Hardly a longterm solution, but you could just cover him in some of your blood.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Draco wasn’t about to split his veins open just so he could see Harry.

“Alright, off with you. I need to fix your grumpy professor here and get this potion going. We should have some answers within the week. Hopefully.” Jaz waved them away and his eyes again strayed to his notebook. He left blood and blade on Snape’s desk as he looked something up. Harry had to wonder how long the strange man was going to let Severus sleep before he remembered to wake him.

SCENE #char left on the bathroom floor

Alone with Harry back in his bedroom, Draco found himself uncomfortable. Although Harry didn’t make another attempt to touch him beyond his hand to show he made it in the door, Draco felt edgy and flustered. He was expecting him to at any moment.

Partly, Draco wanted to ask Harry a million damn questions, many of them concerning just what the fuck he wanted from him. But that would involve the quill and the extreme closeness. Draco didn’t think he could handle that in his current state while alone with no other people to interrupt.

He missed lunch, barely ate breakfast and was not really in the mood for dinner even though it was the right time for it. Draco decided to catch up on some homework since he was extremely behind in most of his classes. He tried for as long as he could as his eyelids grew heavy and revealed just how difficult it was for him to concentrate. He kept trying to feel Harry’s presence but he was tucked away somewhere and wasn’t making himself known.

He dozed. Draco nodded awake to a dimly lit room and a full bladder. There was a spell in place to lower the lights during sleeping hours. He stumbled around his desk, careful not to knock his books from the surface as he made his way to the bathroom. Blearily he stripped and swayed in the tiled room after he dried his hands. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to shower or just go straight to bed. He’d have to wake up early to shower in the morning and that sounded miserable too.

Hands touched his shoulders in the dim light, warm compared to the chill dungeon air on his skin. With a shiver, Draco didn’t resist when Harry pressed his hot body up against his back and held him lightly. “Thought I told you to stay out of my loo,” Draco murmured sleepily. Harry’s hands moved around his waist and with palms flat, pushed up his sides. “Oh.”

Harry bent his head against Draco’s neck, speaking something he couldn’t make out beside it being tickly. Draco’s gaze drifted down with nothing to focus on. He could feel Harry tremble behind him; his chest heaved as if he just ran and his pulse fluttered in the fingers digging in to his sides. “Potter, are you…? Oh, hell.” Draco’s eyes fluttered shut. He shifted so Harry had better access to his neck as hot, open mouthed kisses rained down.

This was very much a bad idea. Draco remembered the words Harry wrote while in Snape’s office. They were very true words, which made them dangerous. He wanted Harry. He wanted Harry to want him, take him, fill him. Right now, half asleep with Harry rubbing strong, unsteady hands over him, he couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea.

Draco arched back with a loud gasp when Harry’s hands moved up his flat stomach and chest. His hands slid down and fingers dragged wonderful friction with every inch. Harry stopped right above his boxers, his fingertips just brushing to prove if he went lower, there would be no fabric to stop him. His fingers splayed wider, Harry hands moved slightly to the sides and he palmed up his body again. His touch was slow and so heated, Draco could only moan. Fingers teased around his nipples and squeezed, fire tingling all the way down to his toes.

It was quiet. Draco’s uneven pants were broken by soft, aching cries that echoed in the dim bathroom. There was the light scrape of flesh on flesh as Harry rubbed his palms down and dared lower. Draco watched unseeing as fingers ran over the front of his hips and caressed his soft flesh stretched over hard bone. Harry moved lower to the tops of his trembling thighs. His large hands wrapped possessively as Harry stopped and again bit fingers in to indent Draco’s flesh.

“Harry.” Draco exhaled as the world spun. He could feel the unmistakable press of Harry’s erection against his ass when he bent over him. His eyes closed and Draco’s head fell back to land on the wide shoulder behind him. Soft hair tickled against his ear. Harry turned his face and kissed him slowly, deeply, until Draco couldn’t stand anymore and his knees grew weak. Harry’s hands moved to his hips again and held him up. He rubbed small circles on his flesh while Draco quaked.

“Oh god… hell. Potter, please stop. I-I can’t stop.” Harry pressed up against him and ground his hard length between his ass cheeks. Draco was certain if he just moved a small inch or so, it would be up against his hole, stretch into him, claim him. It would be, god, so good. It would be so, so fucking good. “Please… have to stop,” he moaned even as he pressed back into the delicious sensation.

A low rumble tore through Harry’s chest. Cold suddenly hit his back when Harry stepped away, his large hands holding his shoulders hard to keep Draco from falling. Draco swayed with head bowed forward and gasps shaking him.

Harry’s hands felt like steel and his breath scalding as it hit the back of his neck in harsh pants. Harry pushed him forward, step after step. Draco raised his hands to catch the cool tile before his head fell against it. “Stop,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and rested his face on the wall. His hard cock jolted from the cold feel of the tile through his fabric barrier.

Rough, forceful hands pressed to Draco’s back, moved over his shoulders and shoulder blades, grasped and massaged and rubbed into him as if trying to ingrain his touch into his muscles. Down, over his back and lower back, the curve of his spine and up his sides again, fingers dragged, and short nails scratched. “Oh, fuck… fuck, Harry.” Lower still, they grabbed Draco’s hips, fingers splayed over his ass, thumbs dug in and pressed firm as Harry cupped his cheeks and pushed him forward. “Oh, god. Please.”

The hand found his thighs, grabbed the thick, tense muscles and spread them wide. Harry kicked Draco’s feet as the side of a hand pressed against his crack and pushed in and brushed his hole. Draco jerked forward into the cool tile and cried out. His entire body was tense as Harry turned his hand and touched fingertips ever so lightly against his tight entrance. Draco sobbed from the soft touch. Sweat dripped down his face and he spread his legs wider in anticipation.

Harry roughly turned him, pushed him back against the tile and kissed him hard and demanding. Draco did everything he could to not beg for more, to not turn and bend and beg Harry to finish what he started. Instead he threw his arms around his neck and clung on the best he could while Harry kissed and nipped down his throat, his hot breath exploding in fast bursts. Harry’s hands moved over his sides possessively, his hips rubbing his hard burning cock into Draco’s. Draco spread again and lifted his knee up the side of Harry’s strong thigh. Harry grabbed his leg, pulled it up higher with a wrench and ground against Draco’s tight body. Shakily, he pushed away.

Harry was gone. His body heat and presence disappeared and left Draco cold and confused. Trembling, Draco moaned. His legs were unable to stand and he slipped down the wall onto the floor in a heap.

“Damn it… fucking damn it.” His head bowed down, Draco gaped. Sweat dripped down his face and his body was so fucking tight and aching he didn’t know how he wasn’t on fire. Just char left on the floor. He buried his face in his hands, felt the saliva drip down his chin. He followed with his hands, over his jaw, down his throat with hard, dragging fingers as he groaned. “Fuck!”

Fucking Potter. God, how the fuck was he supposed to ever touch that mean bitch after this? Bear a child with her? Fuck. A turkey baster had a better fucking chance.

Draco’s hands were on his thighs and through his boxers before he even realized it. One moved down to grasp his painfully hard dick and the other pushed fingers and roughly probed into the heat inside his aching hole. He didn’t care he was loud. His moans echoed as he bucked on the floor and wished it could be Harry fucking him instead of his narrow fingers.

He came with something near a scream. His head slammed back against the tile, body tingled, blood roared in his ears as red flashed behind his eyes.

He was so fucked. So impossibly begging for it, on his knees, fucked. God damn fucking Potter for ruining his fucking life.

SCENE #The dark beast rising

Draco didn’t say a word when he woke up. He dragged himself from bed, collected his school things and got ready for class. He ignored Harry at the door by holding it open long enough but without reaching his hand out to make sure he followed. He didn’t acknowledge him in the Great Hall no matter how curious glances Blaise and Pansy cast. It was a full table and it wasn’t safe to talk about him anyways.

Harry was relieved. He almost stayed behind in the room. To see Malfoy was to want him every fucking moment. Harry had fought with himself repeatedly while Draco slept. He went so far as to hide in the bathroom so he wouldn’t be constantly faced with his beautiful, sleep filled face and long, pale limbs… hard, tight torso…

He couldn’t remember wanting anything so badly in his life than to touch Draco Malfoy. It was insane to think he once thought he could sit back and look and just breathe hot air. He once stood mere feet away while Draco shoved fingers deep inside, cried his release with his name on his lips and he hadn’t taken him. Pure madness.

He hadn’t planned on touching him last night. He was just checking up on him. Draco looked so tired when he stumbled into the bathroom, he just wanted to make sure he didn’t fall asleep. Draco was just standing there, staring at the shower with his slender, nearly nude body shivering in the cool air. All Harry could think about was the first time he saw him shower. It played out vividly in his mind until he was left shaking, staring at Draco and needing.

The dangerous feeling was all around him when he slipped hands on Draco’s bare back. Draco’s sleepy sigh only made it worse. He was going to need to find somewhere else to stay at night. He nearly had him twice. Twice he could have been buried deep inside him that very night. Fuck, even a third when Draco’s cries rang out as he masturbated. Harry forced himself to stay in the bedroom to keep from taking what he so readily wanted. He almost went back in. He knew if he did, Draco’s wouldn’t have resisted and he wouldn’t have been able to stop.

It was the worst part, what stole the last of his damn restraint. He felt Draco give in and it broke something inside him. His self control crumbled when Draco pushed back and tried to get his unstretched hole against Harry’s hard cock while at the very same fucking time begged him to stop. Harry wanted to scream. He had screamed in the bedroom when he finally gained some control. When he finally pried his hands from the gorgeous guy who fucking wanted him, needed him, and still refused to have him. After Harry shouted and yelled the unfairness of it all into the ether and Draco went to bed, he hid in the bathroom. He jerked off where he wouldn’t have a sleeping Draco to look at and imagine covering with his hot, claiming fluids like a deranged pervert.

He never thought he was a pervert until Draco Malfoy. He never wanted to dirty someone so thoroughly until he saw the immaculate prat. After watching Draco fight his own very human needs for a lie of breeding and family, Harry wanted to do fucking terrible, degenerate things. A part of Harry hoped if he soiled him dark and deep enough, it would make Malfoy realize there was no going back.

The beast inheritance would let him do exactly that. He could wake up Draco’s beast with enough filthy, dirty sex until he was nothing more than a panting, begging animal. That version of Malfoy would never choose a fake marriage over him. No, he would bend to him whenever he wanted, stay at his heel, under his thumb, and ride his cock whenever he demanded it. Fuck, and he would demand it.

A shift happened in Harry as he paced the Great Hall. His thoughts grew darker and his body and energy changed to reflect his very needy, possessive thoughts. He felt strong again even with the bursts of energy warning him he wasn’t stable. He felt like he was facing down Voldemort again and he was powerful and unmatched against his enemy. But it wasn’t an enemy, it was Draco. It wasn’t fighting but fucking his body was consumed with.

Harry wasn’t certain if he did fuck Draco the feeling would disappear this time.

Draco got up from the breakfast table to go to class. Harry hung back and followed far behind. He waited outside the classroom door. He didn’t want to see Malfoy, didn’t want to be tempted with his glowing pallor and crystal clear gaze that looked right through him. Harry knew he couldn’t stop himself. The same way he couldn’t stop himself from kissing Draco the other night, he couldn’t stop now. And this time he wanted far more than kisses.

SCENE #A wedding and a ring

Draco was called to Dumbledore’s office after a tasteless lunch. His morning was a blur of slow, mundane classes and wild, tilting thoughts of sex, Potter and his farce of a future. Almost as if his state of mind beckoned her, Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for him, elegant and stiff in Dumbledore’s office.

His mother was not alone. Snape, Jaz McVicar and Dumbledore stood across from her like they were facing off in a duel Draco interrupted with his presence. With sinking dread, he realized she must know about Potter. Otherwise why include the men working on the solution? He could be wrong and he made sure to not make any movements which could attract Harry to his side. Although he hadn’t spoken with Harry all morning, he was certain he was still there, even though he could not scent or sense him at the moment.

“Hello, Mother. Is everything all right?” Draco asked blandly as he stepped into the room and watched all eyes turn to him. His head of house was looking murderous, Dumbledore’s twinkle was lost from his eyes and Jaz was showing his teeth. The sharp fangs peek out in quiet threat to the woman before them. Narcissa was still, her face a perfect mask of docility and properness. It was very much her battle mask and Draco braced himself.

“I’ve arranged for you to come home, Draco,” Narcissa said softly, her hands stiff before her. “I have hired a tutor to help you with the NEWT finals and catch you up with the rest of your classes. It’s all been organized. We’re just in need of you and your things.”

“I see.” Draco stepped further into the room and walked up to his mother. In a practiced move, they embraced briefly; Narcissa managed to be hugged without actual contact. It was a skill Draco never quite learned or wanted for himself. “Mother, may I ask why you feel such drastic measures are needed? I’m only months away from the end of my school term.”

Narcissa pulled away and glanced at the men on the other side of the room. “It’s come to my attention your grades have been slipping. I am concerned, Draco. Your wedding is coming up and I want you to be focused.”

Draco could sense the lie and decided to unwind it. “Mother, removing me from school would only make things more difficult right now. I have goals here and connections to forge for my career at the Ministry. Skipping out on my graduation will undermine that, as I’m sure you’re aware. I cannot accept leaving early. I can always retake the NEWTs at a later time, if needed.”

Narcissa’s eyes flashed, a small crack in her well worn mask. Lucius being away had made her tired, troubled. Her own short time in prison didn’t do well for her either. “Draco, I will not allow you to participate in what is happening here.”

“I don’t see how you can think to stop me.” Draco stepped around her and joined his teachers on the other side of his mother. “I’ll do as I please in this.”

“You are jeopardizing everything,” she said louder as she turned to face the four of them. “For—for that boy. It will be safe at home and without such distractions. You don’t want to be known as the one who saved him.”

Draco raised a brow, inwardly shocked she would be so outright. “Mother, that is exactly what I want. Nothing has been jeopardized. I will marry Miss Vellamorn in a few weeks time. I will return home from school after graduating. When I join the Ministry to start my apprenticeship, I will be known as the man who helped bring Harry Potter back.”

“Madness, Draco!”

“No, Mother. Madness would be to try and stop me. Or would you prefer I rot in jail with father. You would be left alone to run a failing household with no male heir and no political power. You cannot remarry unless Father is dead, and who would have you with our name so disgraced?” He squared his shoulders and let his anger reach his voice to match her flashing eyes. “Voldemort lost. He will never rise again. You picked the losing side and I did not. You won’t sway me now, the same as you could not sway me when the Dark Lord still lived.”

Narcissa put a hand to her face, a lace handkerchief in her grasp to appear to dab dry eyes. Slowly, she gave a small curtsy, assenting to Draco’s stance. “My son, I am in need of you and your strong will even more with your father away. Forgive me for assuming you would have need of my counsel when still you are strong in your beliefs. I have a gift for you to help keep our name pure as you pursue this endeavor. If you will accept?”

Draco was suspicious. He didn’t expect his mother to cave so readily. It could be because of their audience, Dumbledore specifically. Or Mother was even more tired than she first let on. Azkaban might have drained the fight out of her. He approached warily, and watched as Narcissa took out a small box.

“What is it? Jewelry?”

Narcissa nodded and opened the box to reveal a silver ring. “Your father’s ring. We didn’t think you would need it, Draco. You showed no signs of the spoiled blood. This will contain the beast and keep it from awakening.”

Draco reached for the silver circle; a feathered dragon stared back at him. “Then father has one as well? Still asleep?”

Narcissa lowered her head and took a moment to speak. “The ring kept him from disgracing his name, as it has for all the Malfoy heirs. He will not be returning from that place. Better now to be a beast, than a man among beasts.”

Draco glared, his anger rising at her words. “You have both disgraced us far more than any beast could. I’ll wear it because that is what I must do. Not because I fear to be known for what I am.”

“I know that well of you. Thank you, my son, for ensuring the name and safety of your family even now.” Narcissa reached her hand forward and Draco kissed it stiffly. His mother refused to meet his eye.

This would have gone much differently if Potter was dead and Voldemort alive. His father would have come to him to chain his beast and there would be no question who was the disgrace. It was a gamble to choose Potter, one not made out of cunning and plotting, but desperate, foolish hope a life without Voldemort could one day exist. No one, not even Draco, actually thought it to ever be possible. It didn’t mean he was above exploiting it now.

“It was good to see you, Mother. I expect you before next month to finalize the rest of the wedding plans.”

“Yes, Draco. Very little is left and Serene is enraptured in anticipation. She will be relieved to know you wear the ring.”

Draco sighed inwardly and slipped the bloody thing on. It didn’t seem to hold much magic but now on his finger he could feel the power of it stealing his senses away. All of a sudden Snape was there. His hands held Draco’s shoulders to keep him upright.

Narcissa held her hand up soothingly. “It was the same with your father, and with his. The sensation passes and then it is as if it never was. I will see you shortly, Draco. I hope to see an improvement in your focus.”

Draco ignored her departure and scowled as the world continued to spin around him. He tore the ring from his finger and threw it to the ground. “Pureblood nonsense,” he muttered angrily. He turned unsteadily to his silent companions. “She knew everything, not just the blood inheritance. How has Potter’s condition gotten out?”

Dumbledore stepped to his desk. He summoned tea and chairs, the closest of which Draco dizzily sank into. “I have to assume it was a breach off the floo network. It was the only transport of questionable information and we’ve been having problems with it lately. It makes the most sense. That your mother has connections to whoever is spying is concerning.”

“Oh, you think?” Draco continued to scowl as he took the offered tea. He nearly scalded himself as he drank it down. Jaz was holding the ring he threw and was studying it carefully. “I will eventually need that. If you wish to look it over you may.”

“I would. This has been crafted specifically for your family’s beast inheritance. This, with your blood, could pinpoint exactly what we need.”

Draco shook his head wearily. Of course it could. Of course his mother would give him a chain to bind his power instead of using it as a gift to save.

“Mr. Malfoy, I would ask that you reconsider this plan of yours,” Severus drawled cautiously, pulling Draco from his thoughts.

“Plan?”

“The wedding. There is some truth to what your mother has said. You lack focus. Your grades are failing, as is your health. Postponing until after school has ended would be more than understanding given the situation.”

Draco waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a ceremony, that’s all. A day away and then back to school. I haven’t had to lift a finger, never mind spare it a thought.”

“Yes, but a day away while you hold the key to Mr. Potter’s safe return could be far more insidious than first thought. If you are kidnapped or ensnared to hurt Mr. Potter while outside the safety of the school’s wards, there can be little to stop it.”

Draco paused and placed his empty tea cup and saucer down onto Dumbledore’s desk. He stood. “I’ll consider it. Hopefully he’ll be back before then and it won’t be an issue.”

“Mr. Malfoy, before you go. I’d like to experiment with the ring, if you would be so willing?” Draco pursed his lips and stared warily at the ring in Jaz’s hand. He eventually nodded.

“I will need Mr. Potter’s insight as well.” Jaz turned to his right and faced the corner of the office. “I want to see how it effects the beast on the dimension it dwells on.”

Draco nostril’s flared in warning but he took the quill handed to him. He was in a fighting mood since facing his mother down and wasn’t sure being close to Harry was the best idea. Especially after last night’s heated encounter and now Harry knew his wedding was so soon. Draco sat back down in his chair with hand poised over the parchment Dumbledore unfurled.

Harry didn’t approach him or, if he did, not close enough for Draco to sense. Draco kept his gaze lowered with his brow’s furrowed. He would be damned before he actually called Harry over in invitation.

“Mr. Potter, I just need to know what you saw when he placed the ring on. That’s all.” Jaz looked toward the center of the room, then exchanged glances with Severus and Dumbledore.

“Harry, are you feeling well?” Dumbledore called, concern clear in his expression.

Draco felt him then. Harry hovered at the edge of his awareness, hot energy curling toward him. Harry’s scent was different… heady and dark. It was full of lust and power and still, very much him. Dizzy… so hot and dizzy…

Draco shot to his feet and turned to sit on Dumbledore’s desk to give himself space. “The ring. Now,” he gasped. Jaz tossed it to him. Draco placed it on immediately after he caught it and the world spun again. It was a relief even as nausea threatened from the rocking tilting of it all.

“What’s happened?” Dumbledore asked as he steadied Draco from behind.

Draco couldn’t answer immediately as he tried to gain his bearings. “I think… No, I’m certain. He’s transformed.”

There was a collective sharp intake of breath in the room. Harry was not only intangible, but he was also no longer fully human. Jaz broke the silence. “His awakening hasn’t repaired the problem. That theory is out. Mr. Potter, I would ask you give Mr. Malfoy and I space to study the ring. We don’t want to trigger the same state in Mr. Malfoy. Can you agree to that?”

Again Draco felt Harry hover at the edge of his awareness. Draco hesitantly reached his hand out and brushed fingertips to Harry’s. The spark of contact was intense. Draco’s eyes widened from the feel of power and heat and reacted. A shiver started in the pit of his stomach and traveled simultaneously to his head and toes to fill Draco with heat and addle his senses even more.

“This… this is going to be a problem,” Draco whispered roughly. He pulled his hand away and stared at it unseeing. He forced himself back to reality with a shake of his head. He grabbed the quill and turned to the desk so Harry could write out a response to Jaz. The moment he did, his senses warned how dangerous it was to turn his back to Harry in that moment with his scent hot around him.

Harry didn’t touch his back. His body heat was extremely close but didn’t connect. Strong fingers wrapped around Draco’s hand. Draco couldn’t stop the way he gasped from the touch. Harry wrote with quick, jerking movements.

I will stay outside the room, all rooms, from now on.

“Potter, is your magic working again?” Draco asked. He tried to ignore the confusing disappointment in his stomach to know Harry would no longer be lurking in his room watching him.

Yes. It’s changed. I’m relearning it.

“I can feel it now,” Draco murmured. The energy was so enticing and powerful around him. “I can feel how you destroyed Voldemort.”

Harry’s free hand pressed to the back of his neck. He wrapped long fingers and gripped firmly. Breath puffed over his cheek and drew Draco’s eyes. This time when he felt Harry’s stare, it was as if a predator was looking back. He knew green eyes were drinking him in, waiting for him to slip and signal the end of the hunt.

“Shit.” Draco closed his eyes but it was no good. The unsettling feeling grew in the vulnerable darkness behind his eyelids.

Are there anymore questions? Harry wrote. Draco felt the tremor in the hand holding his.

“Quickly,” Draco rasped when Jaz hummed thoughtfully over Harry’s magic returning.

“I want to know how the ring has affected Mr. Malfoy’s creature on its plane. Just to ensure it’s not harming him.”

I’ll look.

Harry pulled away. Draco slumped and sat in the seat again with a heavy sigh. It was a long time before Harry returned. Draco wondered if he saw something terrible or maybe Harry couldn’t bear to be so close to him. Draco wasn’t sure how long he could be near Harry like this.

At his approach, Draco poised the quill again. Harry was swift to grab his hand. This time he pushed forward and pressed his wide shoulders to Draco’s back. His head hovered at the crook of his sensitive neck and Harry shakily breathed fire over him.

Draco didn’t bother looking at the words scratched out messily. He was fixated on every hot spot where his body touched Harry’s. He liked his new scent, a lot. He liked the way Harry’s energy was licking at him and trembling over his skin in hot caresses. He very much liked the way Harry kept shaking, as if at any moment he would lose it, his self control would break and he’d just have to take him. Draco didn’t know what it was like to be wanted in such a way but he was finding he really enjoyed it.

Harry’s hand stopped writing and started to move up his arm. His palm contoured to his form, fingers dragged heavily up to his forearm, bicep, shoulder, and then landed again on the back of his neck. Harry continued to hover. He pushed his body away from Draco’s but left his hand. His fingers kneading into the muscles of his neck while Draco read.

The ring has changed his color. The glow is weaker like his magic in that form is bound and has no outlet. He doesn’t look ill. No wounds or physical deformities. Just quieter. He’s still solid to me, and he seems to sense me just as well. Whatever the ring does, it’s happening on the other dimensions and is keeping his glow from reaching through the other planes.

“You’re right,” Jaz said as he blinked at Draco. “It’s cut his glow from my eyes. Interesting… I would like to test the ring right away.”

“I, uh, have class still,” Draco pointed out. Harry’s hand slipped down. It kneaded at his shoulders and broke up the tension there, only to replace it with a fiery tension of a different kind.

“Would you permit me to borrow it until this evening, when I can then return it?”

Draco bit his lip and glanced in Harry’s direction. In understanding, Harry pulled away and his presence disappeared from Draco’s senses. “Alright. For now.” Draco pulled the ring from his finger. He blinked repeatedly as the world roared back into focus. It didn’t seem different once he got used to the dizziness. Without the ring, everything was somehow a bit brighter, color more vibrant, smells and sensations more intense.

Harry had spent the entire morning not touching him. Draco was fairly certain he could go the rest of the day the same way.

SCENE #Not a beast but a boy

Draco enjoyed a good two hours with Jaz after his classes where they studied the ring and Jaz asked questions about his beast. Later, he joined him for dinner. Severus stopped in from time to time to discuss the blood-based potion they were working on and ate as well.

The two men were comforting personalities after seeing his mother. Snape was a long time quiet protector once Draco realized the professor’s loyalty to Dumbledore. Severus offered support to see Draco safe when he refused the dark mark last year. When his parents were jailed and the Ministry was tearing through Malfoy Manor, Draco couldn’t even think of a place to turn. Severus contacted the Zabinis who opened up their home to Draco and gave him a decent summer.

Jaz was different, more distracted and less known. But he was easy to talk to about the fucking mess who was sitting outside the door waiting for him. The specialist showed no embarrassment or even misgiving in any of it, as if the wild, hot need roiling off of Potter was everyday as breathing.

He acted as if the way Draco felt maddened and out of control at the slightest scent of it was to be expected and accepted. Hell, Draco was pretty sure Jaz thought it was a desirable thing to have in one’s life to feel crazed at even the the though of a particularly hot body—no matter it wasn’t in the conventional shape Draco grew up being told to expect these feeling to manifest for. Magic was in a lot of ways a great anomaly and yet he readily accepted it into his life. He could only hope this too may one day be accepted.

Draco hesitated at first when Severus walked through again to ask another question of Jaz. Jaz was still talking quite blatantly about how natural it was for him to react to Potter’s animalistic energy. Severus didn’t seem disturbed or repulsed by it. He didn’t even seem surprised. He went so far as to fluidly add something into the conversation before he disappeared again. Draco thought maybe, just maybe Snape wouldn’t think he was a terrible person for being gay and wanting to be fucked by Potter beyond any reasonable restraint.

“I don’t know how to break it to you, Draco. The feeling isn’t going to go away.” Jaz hummed softly as he sipped his cocoa. “It’s not something you can just wrangle into a ball, lock away inside and ignore. The mating urge is designed in magical creatures so it can’t be ignored. They’re so rare, the only way they have existed so long is to ensure their survival through companionship and mating.”

Draco wrinkled his nose as a rather terrible thought came to mind. “It’s not mating, Jaz. Not like breeding. We’re both males. It’s sex, if anything.”

Jaz quirked a brow behind his dark frames. “No, but you are still a magical animal. I’m one and when the mating urge hits with someone compatible, its not just sex. It’s companionship. It’s the want to raise a family and to strengthen in the community to protect your territory. How your family may come to be will vary, either through breeding, adoption or magical manipulation of DNA, but the underlying base urges are still there. You might not notice them right now, seeing as you’re focused on some very hot, overwhelming feeling whenever around him, but believe me, it is there driving things beneath the surface.”

Draco shrugged at the notion and scowled down at the table. “I don’t even want that with the one my mother picked for me. I’m pretty damn terrified I’ll raise a magical child and having him or her turn out to be like my parents or my many deranged relatives. Let’s face it, I have no experience for loving someone. I barely had it for myself. A child would just suffer around someone like me.”

“That is some heavy shit, kid.” Jaz tapped his nails lightly on the table. “I think you’re just a bit too deep in your situation to see things clearly. I don’t know you well, but I know you’re not that. You’re still in your selfish years like most kids your age, yet you keep sacrificing for others every chance you get. You’re not so fucked you need to worry about becoming that empty thing who claimed to be your mother.”

“But she is my mother. That deranged, manipulative, self-serving woman would rather I follow my father into a jail cell than let me be happy and do what I feel is right. She’s my flesh and blood. What chance do I have to be a decent human being?” Draco sipped at his hot chocolate and watched the melted marshmallow foam float in soothing patterns.

“You can’t blame the boy, McVicar,” Severus muttered. He smoothly took a seat next to Draco with a fresh cup of tea steaming in hand. The potion was in the next stage and needed little attention for a good seven hours still. “You were muggleborn. You likely had a completely different experience since you’re also part magical creature. The Malfoys and every pureblood out there shame anyone with the traits even though their ancestors sought to mate with the creatures to begin with to gain the amazing power they bestowed. The lines are damn twisted and full of the deranged, power-hungry and plain soulless. It’s almost as if somehow feeling was just bred out.”

Jaz shrugged. He didn’t have much experience with purebloods beyond the few who pretended to not be when they sought his help. “Is this a first hand thing, Severus? Do you deny children because of your family history as well? I have a feeling all you purebloods are going to die out pretty damn soon.”

“No, my reasons are a bit more complicated.” Severus tilted his head a moment. “Reasons which may change now the Dark Lord is dead. I have less fear of needing to protect a child of my own, never mind so many of the children in this castle.”

“And would these potential offspring be of your genetic making?” Jaz pressed as his eyes flickered to Severus’s dark form.

Severus raised his cup and blew lightly on his tea. He blatantly ignored the question of his sexuality. “I am concerned my nonhuman genetics might end with me, if that is what you’re asking.”

“I knew it.” Jaz smiled lazily and stretched his arms on the table. He looked like a cat intently staring at prey.

Draco blinked up at his professor. “So you’re like me?”

Severus nodded and met his eyes. “Not on the same level. Not the same creature or intensity. But yes, I have some traits in my blood. The Snapes have a sordid history of the beasts, one difficult to hide. It was what allowed me to fight the dark mark and His influence on me all those many years. Also why I have some sensitivity…” He trailed off and glanced to the content looking white-haired man before them.

“Sensitivity,” Jaz echoed. His dark lips split into a vicious grin as he ran his eyes down and then up Severus.

“McVicar here clearly has little care of propriety. He was raised by muggles and is practically an outcast anyways,” Severus continued, his eyes narrowed on the annoying man. “He can get away with being who he is. He’s made a name for himself in his field, not to mention a pretty knut or two and doesn’t have to keep up appearances. Potter will be okay in that department as well, if we can get him back alive.”

Severus turned his gaze to Draco, who was trying not to smile at Jaz’s blatant interest. He was pretty sure the strange man just really liked to irritate his head of house. “For you, Draco, well, things will be different. Your parents and your name are already shamed after Voldemort’s fall. Even if you could separate yourself from their failure by helping restore Potter, it’s difficult to say it would be enough to keep you from being completely outcast from society if it were revealed you’re a beast.”

Draco frowned silently. He wasn’t sure if he really gave a crap anymore. He was young still and the ring prevented him from having to worry about his beast waking up and tarnishing the Malfoy name any further. It didn’t help a small, wicked voice inside insisted on pointing out just how life could be if he were just a beast.

A beast wouldn’t give in to expectations. He wouldn’t fucking care about his family name and the need to redeem it after his parents soaked it in blood and hate. He could pursue whatever life he wanted. He could even have a life with Potter as long as he was around, seen or unseen depending on the circumstances. And as a beast, maybe his eyes and ears would wake up. Maybe he’d see and hear Potter so every fucking delicious touch wasn’t unseen…

Wouldn’t that be a surprise? One day he might just find Harry, touch him, tease and taunt him until he couldn’t hold back anymore and he’d take him.

Heated thoughts swirled in his head. Draco watched Jaz stretch and his tongue slowly licked over his sharp teeth as he stared his scowling potions professor down. Could he ever be like that? So fucking confident not only in his inner beast and power but also in what his body so readily wanted every time around Harry?

Draco sighed and rested his head on his hands. Harry might be dead in weeks. Waking the beast up only to spend a lifetime as an outcast would probably be less fun alone.

He wasn’t a beast, he was a boy. One who gave in to pressure and only held his ground on the few really important things that mattered. His life as his own… for some reason it wasn’t one of the important things. Maybe because he couldn’t envision wanting anything for himself. He spent months ready to die instead of joining Voldemort. During that time he might have given away his will to live.

Draco had enough for the night. The ring wasn’t need for testing at the moment, and he slipped it back on. He sat still and let his stomach lurch around his dinner until he grew used to it.

“Thank you for dinner, Sirs. And for helping me to understand some things.” Draco stood unsteadily and gripped the chair as dizziness swayed him. It didn’t seem to want to let up, the blackness edged his vision, but he pushed through. Eventually the ring would relent. He nodded to the two men before he left.

SCENE #The mating drive

Draco shut the door behind him. His eyes scanned the hallway for Harry even though he knew he wouldn’t make himself known. If just the touch of Harry’s energy had such an effect on him even while he was wearing the ring, what did seeing him do to Harry? He might never know. He might never get to see Harry and his reactions. He might never know his reactions to seeing Harry.

He was still really dizzy. Draco slowed his walk back to his room and leaned his hand on the wall.

It was the first time he tried to walk so soon after putting the ring on and Draco was quickly realizing it was a bad idea. Darkness tickled at his vision and his balance was off. It was a weird sensation where he didn’t notice until halfway through a step and felt confident. He kept lurching drunkenly as a result.

Draco licked his lips. He could feel Harry. He was hovering like he wanted to help him stand but was holding back. Draco was managing awkwardly on his own.

“It’s just the ring, Potter. I put it on right before I left and I’m dizzy,” Draco assured quietly as he tried with difficulty to keep his eyes open. He could feel Harry’s energy licking at him. His scent surrounded him and threatened to overwhelm even without Harry touching him. Draco took another step and nearly smacked his head into the wall when he slipped. Harry firmly grabbed him by the back of his neck. His large hand clamped down and fingers curved tight. He held Draco up steady in the simple, hot touch.

Draco swallowed hard. He couldn’t walk; his legs felt weak from his touch even when Harry was holding him upright. “I know you’re trying to help,” he whispered. His lips parted to release sharp pants of air. His chest heaved and heart pounded in his ears as Harry continued to hold him level. Harry was using such careless, perfect strength. It made him feel defenseless, breathless. Sparks of danger shot through him all the way down to his toes just thinking about it.

“Potter, I really need you to let me go.” Draco’s knees gave way at the admission of just how far gone he was from just a touch. He grabbed the wall but didn’t need to. Harry’s hold was firm. He compensated indiscernibly so Draco was exactly how he was moment ago even though his legs no longer supported him.

“My god, you are powerful,” Draco moaned. He wasn’t sure just when that became such an appealing trait to him but it absolutely was.

Harry’s breath touched his face and burned hot against his mouth. He knew he couldn’t see him but Draco opened his eyes. He wanted Harry to see him. He wanted those predatory eyes to see everything he did to him just by holding his neck.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” Draco’s voice was barely a rasp. “You knew one fucking touch from your hand could completely devastate me?”

The fingers tightened on his neck. Draco moaned, low and keening, as Harry’s flat tongue licked up the side of his mouth and found and tasted the saliva already dripping from him. Harry’s touch made him salivate, made his knees break, his body burn. He made him so unbearably hard. Made him ache inside at the mere thought of Harry taking him. Harry licked him again, slow, rough from chin to the top of his gasping lips. His tongue dipped inside and found Draco’s. Harry covered his lips and stroked inside to thoroughly taste him.

“God… Holy fuck.” Harry’s hand forcefully lowered him down to his knees. Draco’s face slid down Harry’s hot body. He ran his tongue out and flicked to taste his chest, navel, fuck and then fuck…! Short, wiry hair brushed his lips and Harry’s hard, hot length bobbed against Draco’s chin and jaw as he was pushed down further.

Draco couldn’t stop the noise as it tore through him; it was something loud, needy and fucking desperate for everything he was certain was about to happen as he knelt in the damn hallway with his mouth hanging wide open, and looking for all the world like he was alone.

Fuck, Potter could soak him in cum and no one would fucking know.

Harry scent was a warm, heavy musk. His pubic hair was rough, damp as Draco nosed lower, his mouth wide and tongue rubbing hot trails everywhere he could reach. He could feel Harry’s dick twitch under his breath. He opened his eyes and lapped his tongue out, soaking with his saliva so he could fucking see what he was going to be choking on. “Shit. Holy shit.”

Draco panted roughly as he followed Harry’s thick cock up with his tongue, smoothed over hot flesh and spread as much of his fluid as he could. He stared in growing, awful wonder at just how big his cock was. “Holy fuck, you’re huge.”

Either Harry was shy about how incredibly hung he was, or Draco was too irresistible with his tongue hanging out while he gaped wide mouth at the sight. The pressure on his neck increased moments before his lips parted to Harry’s dick when he shoved inside. Draco whimpered, opened wide, his tongue flattened and then pressed up to meet the thick column of flesh. Harry’s hand on his nape held him in place as he stroked deep inside. Draco reached out and grabbed his thighs to clutch to the damp flesh and tight muscle as he gave in completely.

His cock dominated his mouth. It stole his breath and his senses until Draco was a mess of heat and craze want. He tried not to choke as his tip ground against the back of his throat with every long stroke. Draco’s eyes were slit open, fixed on what he could see. He was nearly cross-eyed as he watched his saliva coat and reveal Harry’s dick as it slowly thrust in and out of his mouth with shallow pumps.

It was his first time sucking cock. Draco was probably missing some of the experience since Harry was forcing his head to stay still. The feel of his mammoth size split his lips wide and made his jaw sore. The real intensity was in how Harry was taking him. God, he didn’t even fucking ask. Didn’t even fucking kiss him properly. He just licked him like an indecent animal, pushed him to his knees and started fucking his mouth. He was so overcome, so turned on, he was going to come, probably before Harry. There was just something maddening how things went from tripping down the school hall to on his knees sucking huge, invisible cock.

Draco’s brow furrowed, a groan stuck in his throat when he realized Harry was already there. His cock swelled in his mouth and the underside of his thick shaft pulsed on his tongue. He gasped when Harry suddenly pulled out, and quickly shut his eyes to keep from being blinded. He moaned as hot streams of cum hit his face, cheeks, nose and forehead. Harry rubbed his dick all over him, obscenely smearing the fluid into his skin, slicking it around his face. Draco couldn’t stop his cries, his moans sounded again and again around Harry’s cock and sticky cum. He was moments from fainting, or cumming, or bending over and begging Harry to fuck him. God, if he didn’t die from lust first.

Draco was hauled up on unsteady feet. Harry pushed him back against the stone wall, crushed him with his body, and ground him in place. He licked up the side of Draco’s face, tasting his cum, cock, spit and sweat with one long swipe. Harry was saying something against his skin. Draco couldn’t hear but he had a feeling it was dirty and wrong and sexy as all fuck.

Oh, it was definitely fucking dirty. Harry’s free hand reached between then, he grabbed Draco’s straining cock and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. “Oh god, fuck. Fuck, not out here.” Draco moaned and his head fell back. “Not where anyone can… oh fuck.” Harry kissed him. His damn tongue choked his protests as the perverted fuck jerked him off. Draco’s clothing revealed nothing except how hard he was, his tented pants shifting with each stroke to his dick. Draco bucked, his body impossibly taut. He came against Harry’s hard, strong body which ground him back roughly against the wall.

“Fuck… holy fuck.” Draco couldn’t stop whimpering. His body was on fire, his hole ached, and somehow he was fucking hornier after his orgasm than before. “Stop, Potter. Oh fuck, come on… No more.” Draco groaned as the beast turned him and pushed him face up against the wall. He felt Harry kneel behind him. A cry spilled from his lips when he felt Harry’s tongue boldly lick up his ass crack. How he could know he was aching there… Draco groaned and rocked back. Fuck, was he aching there because Harry wanted him to be?

He’d believe anything at this point. It was so easy to believe his body was nothing more than a puppet to the beastly Potter. There was no soft touch this time, no suspenseful tease and then sudden absence. Harry grabbed his hips hard and drove his hot tongue into his tight hole while Draco bit his hand to keep from shouting. Harry tongued him wildly, pushed at the sides of his hole, teased and thrust, pushed and sucked until Draco didn’t know who he was anymore. Harry didn’t stop until he was satisfied with his new width and deep taste. Draco was left quivering, gasping, a whimpering creature of want and need sobbing on the wall where anyone could happen to walk by and see.

Harry finally relented. He stood and grabbed Draco by the chin. Draco moaned as his face was turned and Harry shoved two fingers into his mouth. He slicked them wet, Draco able to see where his saliva dripped down. Draco watched, eyelids heavy, when the fingers moved behind him. He turned his upper body to watch, Harry’s breath hot on his neck. A wet stain appeared on Draco’s trousers where Harry’s fingers passed right through and the material collected the spit. Harry probed between his cheeks and slid fingers deep into his hole.

Draco shouted and bucked forward from the feel of Harry plunging roughly into him. He was pushed forward by the force, his head knocking against the wall. Harry licked up his throat in long frantic swipe. He bit, Draco yelping as sharp teeth sank into his neck. Draco was lost, his moans growing with every thrust of Harry’s fingers. He spread his legs wider, clutching the wall as he pushed back against Harry’s solid form. He knew what was coming next and needed it so bad. Harry’s fingers withdrew from his sore hole, leaving him unbearably empty. Draco exhaled unsteadily. It was okay. Now there was room for Harry’s huge dick to fuck him and take him just like he needed.

Harry’s strong hand once again gripped his neck. Draco gasped as the world spun. His sneakers scuffed the floor as Harry dragged him down the hall toward his room. The door opened in front of him and Draco was pushed forward. Harry’s presence remained on the other side of the door when it slammed shut behind him. Draco fell to the ground.

When the room finally stopped spinning, Draco wrenched at his pants, tore his fly open and pulled the material off his heated skin. He kicked his underwear off. He pushed up to his shaking hands and knees. Sweat dripped down his face he barely felt as he lined two of his fingers behind him. His lashes fluttered shut as he plunged in and began to desperately fuck his hole.

“Fucking… Fucking need you, Harry. My god… I need you to finish what you started.” He was completely overcome. Tears and sweat streamed down his face to mix with the cum Harry left there. Draco begged between his moans while he roughly rode his fingers. “Fuck me, Potter. Come on… Fuck. What a fucking dick. Put it in me… and fuck me.”

Draco grunted hoarsely and his eyes rolled back when he came. His dick streamed cum on his floor. The feel of his fingers inside his tight channel was all he needed, he was that far gone.

His orgasm left him spinning and before he realized it, he was breaking down. He wasn’t even sure why he was breaking down, just he was so full of impossible need. He was absolutely aching, every inch of him needed Harry, and he couldn’t find any relief. He knew it wouldn’t relent until he went to him. He needed Harry to fuck him. He need to go to him, spread, and be fucked or this ache would never fucking stop.

With that thought in his mind, he wiped the cooling seed from his face, unseen but easily felt. Back on his knees, Draco thrust Harry’s cum into his hole. He pushed it in deep even as he moaned with just how lost and depraved he was to be doing something so messed up. He needed it too much and couldn’t stop. He ran fingers hastily over his face to collect any fluid he may have missed, and shoved his fingers in deep again.

Four days ago he’d never even touched his ass and was still confused on just how much he might really like guys. Now? Fuck, now he was forcing cum up there just to coll the insane ache inside begging to be filled with cock. He was so fucked.

Draco collapsed on the floor, panting, two fingers twisted deep inside his passage. He gasped for air and tried to calm his burning body and racing mind. He could see his other hand where the ring was still in place, determined to remind him he wasn’t a beast. No, he was just a really fucked up guy in absolute, unbearably need. A need which was slowly calming as Harry’s scented faded.

Harry’s cum all over his face hadn’t helped the madness. Now he wasn’t breathing it in so thickly, Draco started to come back to himself. Understanding dawned and he untangled his shaking body and pushed to his feet. He stumbled to the shower in the hopes if he washed the scent away, the ache would stop.

It was working. Slowly, so fucking slowly, Draco stopped throbbing for sex as whatever chemicals Harry produced to drive him wild were washed down the drain.

Fuck. Fuck, except the cum still inside him.

Draco swallowed hard. He leaned against the shower tile, spread his legs wide, and ran wet fingers around his sore hole. He massaged in and slid soap slick fingers in and out to clean Harry’s cum out. It felt so good with the soap to make things move much easier. They got deeper like this with no resistance.

He wasn’t cleaning himself anymore, Draco realized after tight, sweaty minutes of his slick fingers slapping in his aching hole. He was definitely fucking himself again. With a moan, he added a third digit slick with soap. He loved how it stung when he twisted the mess of fingers, the way he stretched to take it. They didn’t reach far but they were thick and he needed thick so bad right now.

Fuck, even without the scent. Fuck… fuck…

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, his body tense, channel clenched tight around his fingers moments before he came all over the slippery tile. He looked down at his pearly cum dripping down the wall as he gasped for air. It wasn’t normal. Three fucking orgasms within half an hour wasn’t right.

“Fuck, Harry. What have you done to me?”

SCENE #A white dragon in the forest

Harry needed to leave. There was no other option besides staying and taking what he wanted from Draco. Once Harry threw Draco in his room, he started walking and kept going. He jumped out the nearest window, stepped out into the night and walked away from the castle.

While he walked, he yelled. He roared first into the hallways and then to the night sky. “I was fine—fucking fine! I sat hours in that hallway, fucking fine! My god, what the fuck is wrong with me! How does he fuck me up like this!”

One look was all it took. Draco had stepped out Snape’s door, his eyes fixed on the floor, fingers gripped lightly to the door handle as he pulled it shut. Harry watched, unable to look away, even with Draco’s glow dim and his beast confined by the ring. Moments later Draco looked up, straight ahead, his silver eyes fixed right where Harry was resting across the door. Draco’s expression was open and completely unguarded for one short, frozen moment.

It was the look of prey. Just feet away and completely blind to the peril before him, Draco slipped out the door like he didn’t know he was waiting for him. Something hot shuddered through Harry, dangerous. It flared when Draco stumbled and struggled to walk, and had to lean against the wall just to move. Weak prey so easy to chase. So oblivious…

Harry found himself stalking forward. He followed and watched while Draco wavered down corridors. He pressed into Draco’s space just so he could know he was there, sense him, fear like he was supposed to. But Draco wasn’t afraid. He tried to be reassuring like it was concern to bring Harry behind him inching closer, breathe deep of his scent and wait for him to slip.

With just one hand to pin him, Draco finally—finally—understood what strength was before him. His felt Draco’s heart race, the way sweat dripped down his chin, his crystal eyes so wide. Harry drank it in and was nearly lost. His pretty, pale Draco was so eager, so wanton and easy. All Harry had to do was take him, have him and nothing would ever come between them again. Not Narcissa and fiancees, not meddling professors and specialists. Not even jewelry or barrier magic or fucking doors or clothes. Nothing would keep Draco from him after that.

Except, when he bit Draco in his initial quest to taste the blood of his very soon to be mate the flavor was wrong. Draco’s blood was bland, nearly unappetizing, and hardly tasted like him. It was the ring. He remembered Draco’s blood tasted perfectly delicious just the other day when he tasted off his arm.

Harry’s confusion by the lack of connection was enough to pull him from his haze, and let him hide Draco away.

“Fuck, will it matter? I could just go back. Take the fucking ring off of him. It’s not like he’d fight me… Stop. Stop thinking like that! Bad. That’s fucking bad, shit thoughts!”

Harry crouched and touched the soft ground with nothing to slam his fists into. “Not a toy. He is not a toy. He’s a fucking full human being with god damn thoughts and emotions and the right to choose things. I need to stop this fucking thing inside of me who doesn’t care.”

His power bubbled up and roared around him as it frothed in wrathful waves. Harry looked up and watched the bright, dark energy lick the air, jolting with his anger and need. That was the problem, wasn’t it? All those god damn perfectly good reasons for not touching Draco Malfoy did not take into consideration the one intense, undeniable, aching need he had to touch him.

He needed Draco.

Harry took a deep breath and then another, and slowly his body began to relax. Somehow naming it calmed the rage inside. Not the need—that still burned like an inferno—but he didn’t have to rage against himself and the world over it. As long as he could identify and accept he needed Draco and not act on it, perhaps he could continue on. He was already existing without so many things he once thought he needed; air, food, water, sleep, conversation, affection. Hell, some things he’d gone without for much longer than people were meant to, such as love from a family and parents, security from deranged murderous wizards, companionship with someone who truly understood him.

Touch. How long truly had he gone without touching another human being? There were the rare quick embrace from Hermione or a Weasley spaced far between. Before Hogwarts was just his parents. No Dursley had a touch for him besides a punishing one. He survived without these things.

Touching Draco was the only life spark he ever felt and his body kept seeking it out. Even when his mind fought to keep some sort of propriety. He knew he could still survive even without fulfilling this new need.

As if his body was in disagreement, power sparked painfully through Harry’s chest. It was so intense, it was like being stabbed. He clutched his chest and gasped in pain. His eyes fell on movement in the trees up ahead at the edge of the forest.

It was glowing and white, like Draco. But it wasn’t him, not human at all. Sleek and sinewy, it looked like some sort of cross between a deer and a dragon. Its scaled body was dotted with feathers, legs elegant but not as long as an actual deer. The ends were tipped with claws instead of hooves. It was almost dog-like but not quite that either, its body longer. It had a serpentine tail and feathered head. When it noticed Harry staring back, it revealed sharp, deadly teeth and growled menacingly.

Something in him bristled up and Harry growled back. The sound was low, angry and spoke of how much fucking bigger and meaner he was. At the noise, the creature backed away and disappeared into the forest.

It had to be what Malfoy spoke of. Creatures who lived in the Forbidden Forest only he could sense but couldn’t see. Dangerous creatures who could hurt Harry while in his condition and could hurt Draco anytime they pleased. Draco would be blind to them until they were right upon him.

He stared out into the dark for the next hour and waited to see if the thing would return. It didn’t. Harry couldn’t leave, not with creatures like that around as a possible threat to Draco. He would have to find a way to control himself. If not, he’d avoid Draco completely. Maybe… maybe the barrier was the right thing after all.

Harry turned back to the castle and walked slowly and with intent. Was he so weak he couldn’t protect Draco from himself? He was staying to protect him from potential threats when Harry was certainly the most dangerous thing with access to Draco. He would have to figure out something, a resistance to the need. Things couldn’t continue like this.

SCENE #A compelling kiss

Draco was nearly asleep as he waited for Harry. He sat sideways in the open doorway of his room, his quill and parchment spilled out on the ground in the hallway. Sleep called but was elusive. His body was still a goddamn mess of want and his brain was quickly spiraling toward mad.

Harry remained sitting across the hall from Draco. He hadn’t moved since Draco stood in his doorway hours too early for breakfast in rumpled school clothes and with hair in disarray. He found if he stared at his bare feet peeking out from the bottom of his jeans, and tapped them on the stone floor to remind him to pay attention, he wasn’t overwhelmed by the urge to run across the hall and molest Malfoy. It was more a need to take a leisurely walk before fucking him senseless. It seemed some sort of improvement after all these hours.

“Damn it, Potter. Fucking talk to me,” Draco growled wearily. He’d been sitting there a good twenty minutes now. As much as Harry pretended not to be there, Draco could tell how his invisible aura was much stronger than before. Harry’s power flickered and disturbed the magic in the area.

“What, exactly, am I supposed to say to you, Malfoy?” Harry growled right back even though Draco couldn’t hear him. “I’m sorry? I don’t even fucking know if I’m sorry. And if I am sorry, I’m not sure for which part. Is it what I couldn’t seem to stop, or what I didn’t get to fucking finish.”

“I need your goddamn help. Please, just fucking try. Please.” Draco sighed dejectedly, his head lowered to meet his hands. “Just talk to me.”

“I can’t, you stupid prat!” Harry yelled in frustration. “I can’t fucking touch you. Didn’t you used to be smart? I’m pretty sure Hermione said you were competing with her for top scores last year. How are you so fucking dumb?”

Somehow, Harry’s one sided argument was only pissing Draco off more. “I know you’re there, you pain in the ass. I can feel your fucking power. Potter, get over here. I’m not afraid of you, so get the fuck over here!”

Harry moved from his sitting position into a crouch. He kept his eyes on the ground, determined to look anywhere but at Draco. “You ever think I might be afraid, you idiot? There is something fucked in my head right not. You fuck me up, Malfoy. Shit… it’s really good. Really fucking good.” He carefully raised his gaze when Draco huffed loudly.

“I can wait just as long as you can. Where the fuck are you going to go, Potter? Who the fuck are you going to talk to? Just… Just come over here, okay? Take my hand and stop being a child about all this.” Draco held his hand out in Harry’s direction. His gray eyes peeked out at the seemingly empty corridor. “Come on,” he called softly and wiggled his fingers in invitation.

It was the damn stupidest thing ever for the situation, but Harry couldn’t help and slowly sidle over to Draco. He reached his hand out and carefully brushed his fingers to the pale, outstretched ones before him. Draco felt the soft touch. He suddenly wrapped his hand around Harry’s and pulled sharply. Harry’s eyes went wide and he swore loudly when he lost his balance and crashed into Draco’s prone form. “Fuck! Malfoy!”

“Caught you, you stupid ass.” Draco used his free hand to figure out the tangle of invisible limbs before him. He found a messy pile of hair, released Harry’s hand and pulled him up by his head. “Do I strike you as the forgiving type, Potter?” He asked silkily while wrenching Harry’s thick locks hard.

“You’re out of your fucking mind. Shit!” Harry gasped when Draco pulled his harder. If he was trying to hurt him, he was fucking failing. Harry was pretty sure he never experienced anything quite so amazing as Draco hissing in his ear while he twisted fistfuls of his hair.

“Do you even understand how you left me? I went through hours of torment just because you ran away.” Draco found Harry’s mouth, his warm breath puffing over his face. “It was fucking rude of you. Do you understand, Potter. I do the teasing in this relationship, not you.” Draco closed his eyes and moved to the source of Harry’s gasping breaths and kissed him soundly.

Certain Draco had lost his mind, Harry kissed him back. He groaned when Draco insisted on wrenching his hair whenever he put too much force into the kiss.

“I needed you, you ass. Fucking needed you,” Draco whispered between hot kisses. He held Harry in place the best he could when Harry grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer. “The ache… Harry, it’s going to kill me. Even now…”

“Sorry. Really sorry, Draco.” Harry was full of need for him but he hadn’t expected Draco to need him back just as much. The idea made him hot, fire roaring inside of him. Hell, maybe Draco even more than needed him. He was shaking so much just from his touch. “Fuck… fuck, tell me you feel it too,” Harry demanded against his lips. He pulled from the kiss so he could lick and bite down Draco’s neck. “Need you to fucking need me…”

Draco moaned as Harry’s mouth moved over his skin. He twisted Harry’s hair again and pulled his face back up. “Keep your hands above my waist and that fucking tongue off of me, you perv,” Draco insisted heatedly. He kissed Harry again, deep and hungrily. Draco was either very compelling, or Harry really liked it when the annoying prat told him to do things. Harry obeyed and moved his hands up from where he was squeezing Draco’s firm ass, and refrained from licking him in all the lubricious ways he really wanted to.

When Draco was satisfied he was behaving enough, he released Harry’s hair. He leaned back on the ground and grabbed quill and paper. With his feet, he pushed into his bedroom, hampered slightly when Harry crawled up his body and continued to kiss him. “Slowly. Gotta talk to you.”

“Later,” Harry grumbled. He bit at Draco’s bottom lip; his teeth clamped and then released while Draco whimpered.

Draco refused to be deterred. He grabbed Harry by the hair and pulled hard until he stilled his movements. “I fire called Jaz. He said you’re confused. Out of control, like me.” Draco kicked at the door to his room and managed to shut it once Harry moved his legs out of the way. “Said… said I could fix it.”

Harry closed his eyes and thought of all the many ways Draco could fix the ache burning through him. It made him burn hotter, the need pulse ever stronger. Harry slid a hand down Draco’s thigh. He massaged the tense muscle and dragged fingers up.

Draco growled and grabbed the straying hand and placed it back at his waist. “Focus, Potter. I need to tell you what I want. And then you… you need to give it to me.” Draco smiled wickedly. His head fell back on the floor and he peered up through heavy lidded eyes and loose strands of hair.

He licked his lips, his gaze focused on where he could feel Harry’s breath puff against his shoulder. “As long as I don’t ask for, god, for that fucking delicious thing you were doing to me in the hallway—which is why your tongue really needs to stay in your mouth,” Draco said shakily. “As long as we keep tame, but with you still fulfilling my needs, Jaz thinks it will satisfy the mating drive.”

Harry grasped Draco’s hand and pulled it to the discarded quill. Once Draco picked it up, Harry scrawled out just how flawed the plan was.

I already know what you want. What you need.

Draco raised himself up onto his arm to read. “Fuck, I’m pretty sure you’re an arrogant sod who doesn’t know shit. So you better start listening to what I say,” he said sternly. “Right now I want you to kiss me and keep your hands at a fucking respectable level. Got it?”

Harry stared at Draco’s flashing silver eyes and swollen pink lips. He slipped his vision into the fifth dimension so he could see the pretty feather and shiny scales on Draco’s bare flesh. He loved the variations of hues on his bright skin, glowing and otherworldly. He really wanted to kiss him. If he could prove just how good a kiss could be, he might convince Draco to stay with him. Hell, he might convince him he wanted so much more.

Yeah, he could do that. He’d kiss Draco until he begged for more.

Draco felt the shit almost immediately when the ache in his body changed to reflect Harry’s intent. Jaz called Harry a master when it came to the mating call. He was able to manipulate his chosen into just about anything by amplifying the ache associate with mating. During courting, the aggressor would look for challenges and respond to what he perceived his mate’s needs were to make sure he fed them properly. Since Harry had caught him in the shower, he must have become fixated on just how much Draco would enjoy anal sex. To remain intact, Draco needed to get Harry to focus on something else.

At the moment Draco no longer felt the unbearable ache to be filled by Harry. Instead now he just felt an impossible need to be kissed by him. It was still overwhelming but at least it could be remedied much easier and didn’t involve him bending and begging for Harry to fuck him.

“Come on, Potter. Fucking kiss me… fuck, please. Get over here.” Draco closed his eyes a moment. Well, he wasn’t bending at least; begging seemed just a little beyond his control at the moment. He pulled Harry’s hair and growled when Harry insisted on hovering. His hot breath was lined with Draco’s mouth but he refused to descend and cross the distance. “Oh, you just love to draw this out, don’t you?” Draco murmured and tilted his head invitingly. “What happens when you give me what I want?”

“Then I fucking own you.” Harry ran fingers through his hair and gently twisted the silky strands. He flicked his tongue out and lapped over Draco’s lips. Draco moaned and tried to get closer, but Harry held him still. “I already do, Malfoy. You’re mine. You just need to figure it out still.”

“Come on,” Draco whispered. His breath caught when Harry slowly pressed his lips to his. He opened readily, his lips parting to Harry’s questing tongue which me met with his own. A shudder took Draco’s entire body and he fell back flat on the floor. Harry kissed him deeply, slowly, his lips sliding hot over his. Draco’s head felt too heavy to lift. “Stop,” he moaned. He arched, his body grinding against Harry’s. His hard flesh felt too hot to touch everywhere they met.

Harry kissed his cheek and let Draco breathe and pant, and make all the desperate noises he liked. “I can make you come like this, beautiful. I can make you scream like this, beg like this. All I have to do is ask and you’ll give me that stupid fucking ring and be mine.” His mouth plundered Draco’s again, swallowing down his gasps. Draco whimpered hungrily. His fingers grasped at the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him closer.

Harry slid his hands down Draco’s sides. He reached down his long legs and pulled them up so he was settled between his raised knees where scales were even larger on Draco’s bright skin. “You want me. You want to be mine, Draco. Even before when I didn’t have enough sense to tell, you were begging for me. You lured me in with your fucked up, erratic behavior and then cut me to pieces with that cruel tongue of yours.” He licked up Draco’s chin, then plunged into his moaning mouth to taste him thoroughly.

“Harry… I think. Oh, fuck. I’m gonna…” Draco shuddered and his hips bucked up against Harry’s body. Harry continued to lick and suck his swollen lips while Draco rocked against him and rode out his orgasm.

Draco moaned weakly with his eyes squeezed shut as he realized what happened. Just a kiss. A kiss had got him off. “Oh, fuck.”

“Fucking told you, you bloody tease,” Harry rasped out. He bit Draco’s lower lip and held it between his teeth. Draco jerked and groaned as teeth broke his skin blood filled their senses.

“Yes… fuck, I could have you right now and you wouldn’t fight me.” To prove his point, Harry grabbed Draco by the thighs and spread his legs wider so he could press his throbbing erection against his entrance. Draco cried out, his fingers digging into Harry’s shoulders. “You lured me over here just to do it to you, Malfoy. You held your hand out so I’d come back and fuck you. All you have to do is admit it, beautiful.”

“Oh god… oh fuck… Get your hands above my waist, you fucking opportunistic pervert,” Draco growled out. His protests were lost with the way he rocked his hips down and rubbed against the searing flesh pressed against his hole.

Harry chuckled. With one hand he grasped Draco’s narrow waist, and with the other, twisted his nipple. He rocked his hips forward with a groan. His lips sealed to Draco’s and muffled the rude swears being cursed at him.

“Potter, you sick fuck… stop,” Draco growled. His eyes closed when Harry rubbed his cock against him, this time with enough force his entrance yielded ever so slightly to the pressure. “Oh fuck, that’s good. So fucking good… I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mumbled heatedly.

“You want it, you gorgeous prat.” He bit Draco’s ear, then licked to the soft flesh right below. His thumb rubbed over Draco’s other nipple he was twisting a fetching shade of red. “Beg me, and I might stop. Fuck, beg me and I’ll fuck you so hard, Draco. I’ll give you everything your body needs.” He bit Draco’s bottom lip again and licked the blood beading there.

Draco’s entire body was trembling with want. He reached up and grabbed two fistfuls of Harry’s hair. With a twist, he pulled himself up and pushed Harry down so he wasn’t moments from being fucked senseless. “You will fucking kiss me and that’s it. If you don’t fucking listen to me, you don’t get to fucking kiss me!”

Draco lost his train of thought with a moan when Harry’s mouth pressed to his tender nipple. His hot tongue flicked out, tickling and tormenting all at once. “Damn it.” Draco shook himself and tightened his hold on Harry’s hair. He twisted until Harry’s mouth stopped its torture. “Listen and fucking do as I say!”

Harry moaned shakily. Something about Draco being so forceful and commanding made him dizzy. “Alright, you fucking pain in the ass. Fine. Kiss, fine.”

Draco sighed in relief when Harry kissed him once again and soothed the fiery ache that built whenever he wasn’t being kissed. Between the long, delicious wrestling of tongues and nibbling of lips, Draco tugged and Harry’s hair and demanded softly until Harry found some sort of control in his mating call. Eventually, he was able to extinguish the madness burning between them.

“Oh, thank god,” Draco panted as the intense ache finally left him. He grabbed Harry more forcefully and pushed his larger form off of him. He grabbed the quill, which was now bent and leaking black ink on the ground, and the crumpled piece of parchment. “How do you feel? Better? Saner?” Draco pulled at Harry’s hand until he responded.

Yes. I still want to fuck you, but just in a normal way. Not a deranged, dying if I don’t way.

Draco nodded and pushed his blond hair from his face. “Alright… okay. We can make this work, Harry. All I have to do…”

Harry interrupted him by gripping Draco’s hand tight as he wrote. No, we can’t. The beast is too powerful and I can’t depend on you to stop it. And I can’t seem to stop myself.

“Fuck you,” Draco snapped. “Get some fucking self control and stop making shit difficult.”

I’m trying but it’s too hard. I need to stay away from you.

“What, and take away the one fucking amazing thing in my life right now? Fuck you, Harry. No! It’s just fucking sex and there’s no reason to go running for the hills every time you want me.”

It is not just sex, you gorgeous idiot. It is me making you mine. Stealing that stupid ring, fucking you, biting you and keeping you. Harry stopped and glared at Draco while he read. Fuck. And stop moaning like that. This is not going to work. I can’t keep holding back.

Draco’s eyes were hazy and his lips parted to pant. He didn’t answer right away. “But I miss you. All day today. Yesterday when you practically ignored me. And now, now you’re not even in the same room but hiding outside the door.”

Harry pressed his palm to the side of Draco’s glowing face. Draco leaned in and let his eyes close. He kissed him softly, then pulled back to write. It will only feel worse when I die.

Draco scowled, his eyebrows furrowed in sorrow. “You fucking ass, you’re not going to die. We’re going to figure this out.”

It’s getting worse. My heart stopped earlier. I can’t have you just to leave you. I won’t do that to you. The best I can do is avoid spending

“No!” Draco hissed. He smacked his free hand over the quill and ink sprayed everywhere. He pulled his hand from Harry’s grasp and with clear intent, pulled the silver dragon ring off his finger. “I don’t fucking care if you’ve given up. I haven’t. I fucking refuse. It was months of you being lost and suddenly you find me when you need the most help. I’m not fucking playing, Harry. I’m going to right you and get you back, no matter what.”

Harry licked his lips and watched Draco’s eyes flash in a familiar, enticing way. “You’re being irrational, you stupid prat. Fucking crazy and throwing your life away for someone already dead.”

“I know how this works now.” Draco eyes were downcast as he stared at the ring. “All I have to do is tell you what I want. Pull your hair or pinch your side. It just takes a little pain mixed with a command. You won’t be able to stop yourself.”

“You’re fucking out of your mind.” Harry groaned and got to his knees to escape the crazy idiot. “I’m dying. You can’t fucking compel me to live. All mating will do is fucking hurt you when I die.”

“Get over here, Potter.” Draco held his hand out. “It’ll be quick. Fuck, it’ll be good, too.”

Harry glowered. It was a threat, even if Draco didn’t understand. He wouldn’t do something that would hurt him in the long run. Harry’s power rose up. “I won’t do it, Malfoy. You can’t make me; I’m not that weak yet.” His magical aura flooded the room, whipped papers around and Draco’s hair into his face. Harry surged forward and grabbed the magic imbued ring and placed it on Draco’s finger. He kissed him once, and lingered, staring into the sadness Draco did nothing to hide.

It would hurt more if he stayed. He knew it. They both knew it.

Harry whirled. He used his power to open the door and refused to look back when he shut it behind him. This was the only way.

SCENE #Pain to hide the numb

Draco stared at the closed door. A numbness settled over him without Harry’s hot presence to keep him feeling alive. “Fuck.”

It was clearly the wrong move given Potter was once again running. “Damn it.” Draco sighed heavily and buried his head into his hands. He just kept fucking it up.

Without the damn insufferable mating ache, he found something underneath, something empty and yawning inside of Draco beyond anything he ever felt. It was a hidden pain no longer hidden, now exposed and raw and fucking terrible as he bled inside.

Was it hope? Was it what was left of those flashes of potential growing inside when he heard Voldemort died trying to kill Harry? Was it that fucking pathetic, childish dream of when he came back to school Harry would be there with nothing left to separate them, now torn to shreds after months of him being dead? God, he was such an idiot.

Draco groaned and curled up on the floor. He stared blindly at the pattern of stone blocks as he waited for the hour to tick by when it would be time to go to breakfast and class. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. He didn’t want to marry Serene, raise a family of monsters and once again be surrounded by people and still be so fucking alone. He wanted Harry. He wanted to fight and kiss, and maybe one day fuck as long as he felt so amazingly alive with the one he missed.

This feeling now, without Harry, was certainly more dead than the morning Draco woke many months ago. He was determined that day, full of anger and pride for a life still his. But Lucius caught him. Draco was nude, blade in hand, blood already flowing scarlet across his skin and to the floor.

There was understanding in his father’s eyes with his anger and Draco wondered now if he knew because of the beast chained inside. Lucius didn’t try to convince him to take the dark mark. He offered a solution to keep him alive. Draco still didn’t fully know why he took it, except… except he failed. So many months of planning and he failed in his one chance to own his life. And maybe being reborn as some family puppet wouldn’t be so terrible, as long as he wasn’t Voldemort’s puppet.

“What can you do if you’re dead?” Lucius asked when he twisted the blade out of Draco’s hand. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up to stand. Draco bled out around the healing spells struggling to keep up with his spraying wounds.

In that moment, Draco was certain the answer was ‘live.’ Now it was clear all he could have done once dead. He just wasn’t alive anymore. It was backwards and crazy, but Draco knew being dead would be more alive than how he spent the last of his life since after that moment when he sliced his arteries with determined precision.

Draco got up shakily and stared at the ring once again on his finger. If Harry was so afraid of him becoming a beast, then he would have to leave it on. Harry might never touch him again otherwise.

He went to the bathroom to clean himself off. He tried not to look like he stayed up all night unbearably horny wondering if he was going to die without relief. For those moments he felt alive, when he feared he was going to die. Draco got his school things together, then cleaned up the mess of ink and threw out the parchment on the floor.

He stopped at the door, leaned his head against the wood and breathed deeply. He made a fist, stepped back and punched the door as hard as he could. Draco grimaced from the pain, his knuckles bleeding and sore. He took another deep breath. When he punched the door again, a laugh exploded out with his gasp of pain.

Better. It was better.

SCENE #A plea for the impossible

Jaz had two new instruments waiting for them when Draco and Harry returned a week later. The potion master was off doing other things. Harry begrudgingly came into Snape’s office while warily watching Draco the entire time. Draco was quiet in a way that unsettled him. He wasn’t sure if Draco was plotting, or if he gave up. Neither option was gratifying. Harry wavered many a time as he followed Draco around and watched while trying to understand.

Something was changed in Draco. It was an odd stillness that quieted every level of him until Harry wondered if Draco wasn’t the one out of phase with the world. Blaise had nearly broken down on seeing him the first morning in the Great Hall. Pansy, normally restrained, started swearing up a storm. They both haunted Draco along with Harry now and followed him class to class. They tried to get him to talk late into the night with games or whatnot; Harry never saw what they did. He refused to stay in the same room as Draco as much as possible.

Draco being fucked up did nothing to stop the fire inside Harry and that was probably the worst of it all. He wanted Draco even when he was broken. Harry didn’t know if coming back to reality was the answer no it was clear he was completely deranged and would fuck the walking dead just so long as they looked and smelled as good as Malfoy did. Draco seemed dead, his eyes empty, muscles loose with body refusing to eat.

“Mr. Potter, let’s start with the pen.” Jaz picked up a muggle style ballpoint pen and held it out to where Harry was standing. Draco was between them. Harry chose to walk around the edge of the room and come around the other side of Jaz to pluck the pen from his clawed fingers.

It felt like a regular pen, solid to his hand and lacking all the blushes and quick breaths he grew to love from his favorite quill. “Alright, a pen. And now you can know where I am.” Harry watched Draco’s eyes slide away from where the pen was floating in mid air to his perspective.

“And the second instrument. This one still needs a little tweaking.” Jaz pulled out a pair of gold rimmed round glasses. “With the help of Mr. Malfoy’s ring and his blood, I’ve determined where you are. Hopefully. The glasses are keyed to the potential dimension and now it’s just up to us to see if you’re there.” Jaz took off his own dark frames, his face oddly predatory without the rectangles to obscure his sharp, cat-like eyes. He slipped on the new glasses and hummed as he turned in Harry’s direction.

Jaz’s expression stilled and grew serious. He snapped his fingers and his notebook flew into his hands. He quickly turned through the pages and sometimes scribbled in the margins all while he kept glancing up at Harry. “You’re in a lot of trouble here, Mr. Potter. I assumed you were just ungrounded but seeing you now, it’s clear this situation has occurred from your battle with the Dark Lord. You’re wounded and unraveling. The results of the attack are slowed by the nature of being outside of the normal flow of time. You are reaching the end of your life and there isn’t much time left.”

Harry wanted to be surprised but he wasn’t. The sparks had increased in intensity and frequency until he felt more a walking electric socket than anything else. He moved to Snape’s desk, clicked the pen and wrote out his questions on a waiting piece of blank paper.

Will you bury me, even if you can’t bring me back?

“I’ll do it,” Draco whispered. They were his first words to Harry since they argued days ago.

Thank you. There really didn’t seem much else to say about it. Harry walked back to the wall to put as much space as he could between him and Draco’s scent.

“Mr. Potter, normally in a situation like this I would find the dimension, key a portal in and physically reach in and get you. But that spell will take too long,” Jaz said evenly. He turned to follow as Harry leaned on the wall. “I’m going to speak with Dumbledore about lending the phoenix to help. If the beast is willing, we can bond the two of you and it should be enough to tip you into reality once again. Once here, you’re wounds will be extensive and require immediate healing. I cannot guarantee you will survive.”

Harry shrugged and waved his hand in an assenting manner just to end the conversation. Jaz didn’t take offense. He switched his glasses and left the new frames on the desk. “I’ll be back shortly. We’ll know soon if we have a working plan or not.” Jaz left with long strides that revealed the urgency his tone of voice refused to show.

Harry watched, his dread building as Draco inched fingers toward the discarded glasses on the desk. The idiot just fucking loved to punish himself. Harry regretted it all; when he touched Draco’s hand in the Great Hall, followed him, kissed him, wanted him. Made Draco want him back. Whatever happened to him, Draco shouldn’t have to see it.

Draco slipped the glasses on and settled them on his face before he slowly turned to where Harry was standing. He inhaled sharply as his eyes widened. “Shit, Harry. You’re not black, you’re fucking burned.” He stepped closer and ignored how Harry flinched away. “The glowing light is your normal color.” He reached a hand up and probed the top of Harry’s head where his hair was tousled. “You had some sort of horns once but they’ve snapped off. And your energy keeps fluctuating like mini explosions.”

Harry turned his face away, unable to meet the intensity of Draco’s stare. Draco pulled him back. He wrenched Harry’s hair and glared up at him challengingly. “They’re the same… the same damn green.”

“Just take the fucking things off and go away, Malfoy,” Harry growled. He put his hand on Draco’s shoulder to keep him from moving closer. “I’m dead. Burned, like you said. What the fuck is the point of doing this to yourself?”

Draco’s eyes strayed to where Harry’s lips moved like he was trying to read them. Moment later, he pulled Harry down and kissed him hard, desperate. He held him by the hair when Harry tried to pull away.

“Idiot. Malfoy!” Harry grabbed both of Draco’s shoulders and pushed him away to arms length.

“What? Am I supposed to bury you now, Potter?” Draco scowled, his cheeks flushed. “Now that I can fucking see you, and know where the fuck you are, and what it looks like when you look at me? Why the fuck should I?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a goddamn dying monster on this plane, apparently. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Draco ignored him, not able to understand what Harry was saying anyways. “You’re likely dead. Fine. I’m getting married. Fine. Do you need to hurt me more by pulling away as well?”

“You ass, it’s to keep you from hurting more!” Harry was frustrated and consumed with the need to kiss Draco again. Instead he pulled from his hands and crossed to Snape’s desk so there would be a barrier between them. He used his new pen to write out his thoughts while Draco glared.

It hurts. Seeing you hurting, hurts me.

Draco huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head. “Who the fuck cares? You’re dead anyways. Suck it up and hurt. It’s going to be worse for me anyways and you don’t hear me bitching about it.

Harry shook his head in exasperation. You’re out of your fucking mind. Rational people don’t think like that.

“So?” Draco scoffed. “Who the fuck are you to judge? You’ve never been rational a fucking day in your life. You’re walking around in a lost dimension for months, hanging on to life while half dead and you want to judge me for being irrational?” Draco slammed his hands down on the desk and glared into the wild green eyes he missed so much. “Com on, you hotheaded, Gryffindor imbecile. Where the hell did your love for doing the impossible go? Be impossible with me.”

Harry swallowed hard, lost in the glaring silver eyes behind round glasses. He slowly reached across and touched the side of Draco’s face. Draco’s gaze stayed on him instead of straying like he used to. He was fucking beautiful.

They were interrupted by the door opening. Dumbledore, Severus and Jaz stepped in. Fawkes was on Dumbledore’s shoulder, the phoenix resting with ease while while Dumbledore stood next to Draco. Draco flinched when Severus walked right through Harry to sit at his desk but Harry didn’t seem effected by it at all.

“May I, Draco?” Dumbldore held his hand outstretched. With a sigh, Draco relinquished the glasses but only after a final glance at Harry. Dumbledore slipped the golden framed on. His expression grew grim and a frown deepened his normally cheerful expression. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry met the twinkle free gaze and nodded. Sir, he wrote out on the paper before him.

“Jaz has caught us up on your condition. Unfortunately, nothing can be done for you while you’re split between dimensions. I’ve asked Fawkes to help and he has agreed.” Dumbledore didn’t look happy about it and instead his frown grew. “Harry, whether it was right after the attack or now, how you appear once back will be the same. You will be injured. Possibly dead. There may be little we can do to help you. We might be killing Fawkes by making the attempt.”

Then it’s not worth it. I don’t want anyone else to die.

“Bullshit!” Draco snarled, uncaring to the fact he was swearing in front of his professors. “The bird wants to do it. They come back to life, anyways. At least try!”

“I have to agree with Malfoy, Potter,” Severus spoke up, his long fingers arched on his desk. “You’ve given up enough. Let us at least attempt to help you.”

Harry met Albus’s ever watching gaze. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him this serious. What aren’t you telling me?

“We’ve figure out what you are. McVicar recognized you immediately even with the damage to your body.”

Is it bad?

“It is difficult,” Dumbledore answered tentatively as his fingers fell into his beard. “Creatures like you don’t exist, Harry. They can’t handle the modern world, and the world can’t handle them.”

“You’re a kalistar, Mr. Potter. It’s a demon with antlers and large wings. They’re aggressive, dangerous and down right murderous toward humans.” Jaz turned to Draco with a raised eyebrow. “That means you are most likely their kin, the vesper.”

Draco shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “He’s burnt, not black.”

“He’s damaged. The black pigment comes up with the excessive blood flow. They turn color when enraged, in love, in hot temperature and injured,” Jaz explained as he ignored the anger in Draco’s voice. “That it is patchy suggest it’s from damage more than anything else. Likely Voldemort knew what Harry was and made to attack him on his own plane to make sure he was destroyed. His wings are torn off, along with his horns. His body is a bruise of wounds and if the removal of his wings doesn’t drain him of all his blood, it has likely put him into shock.”

“They’ve died out. My father told me,” Draco insisted. He couldn’t seem to handle hearing about Harry’s condition and instead fixated on what he was supposed to be. “They were good, kind creatures who kept the others safe and in line.”

Dumbledore held his hand up while still looking at Harry. “All we know of the kalistar is they exist with the vesper, they are gone, and any time one has been sighted a human was torn to pieces. Sometimes many humans.”

Draco scoffed. “It’s fucking Potter! If they were so hateful, no human would have survived to mate with the damn things. If my father is a vesper then he would bloody well know more about it.”

“Your father is beyond communication.” Dumbledore finally turned his piercing gaze from Harry. He blinked and removed the glasses when Draco’s glowing form came into view. “Lucius has been separated from the rest and put into isolation. His transformation left him maddened and violent among humans. He’s already killed two of the other prisoners.”

Draco bit his lip and exhaled slowly from the news. “It doesn’t mean Harry is going to start killing people if you bring him back. You’re assuming because you don’t know enough about his kind. You’re going to let him die because you’re scared of what he is. I’m telling you, he’s not how you think.”

Jaz took the offered glasses from Dumbledore and exchanged them for his own. “Mr. Potter, you have been extremely aggressive concerning Mr. Malfoy.”

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Draco muttered and glared at Dumbledore. “You can’t compare the mating urge to…”

“Please, this is something I need to present to Harry,” Jaz said sternly. “Harry, your reaction to scent has been uncontrollable, wouldn’t you say? Have you smelled any humans since being in that realm?”

Harry slowly shook his head once he understood what Jaz was getting at. If I can’t control my reaction to Draco’s scent, who is to say I won’t go into a murderous rage around human scent. Right?

“That is our concern,” Dumbledore said tightly.

“Their concern,” Severus broke in. “I have no question you will be anything but yourself if you survive the return, Potter.”

Harry looked down at Snape’s bowed head in surprise. Severus was not one for defending him, seeing as they were hardly friends. Sighing, Harry reached past his potions professor to write.

It is your decision. The risk is all on your shoulders, from the other students to Fawkes. I will not ask you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.

“Damn it, stop being so fucking selfless!” Draco snarled and threw his hands up in exasperation. “He killed Voldemort—You all have no right to not even try!”

Draco, it’s more than that and you know it. Surviving doesn’t justify putting others in danger.

“Bloody bullshit. You didn’t just survive. You saved.”

It doesn’t matter.

Severus spoke up before Draco could start shouting. “As I have already told Albus and McVicar, I’m willing to create a space free of all scents for your potential return, Mr. Potter. We could even go so far as to eliminate your ability to smell altogether, if we find that you are as driven as they fear. I would need your consent, with you understanding if the madness does take you I will administer the potion against your will.”

Harry considered long minutes while he watched Draco twitch in irritation. A lifetime without smell. Would it effect his sense of his beast body when it came to Draco? Did it matter in the long run when he considered Dumbledore wouldn’t allow him to return if he refused? He saw it in his headmaster’s eye, the steel determination to ensure the students of Hogwarts were protected from monsters. One monster had been Tom Riddle. Today it was him.

I give you my consent.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer given his glower. “Are you going to let them kill you, Potter?”

Harry shrugged and met Jaz’s gaze. They have my consent for that as well. Although, if I am as they say, I likely will not make it easy for them.

“Thank you, Harry,” Dumbledore said and bowed his head. “I will leave Fawkes in the hands of these good gentlemen. We will do the best we can to return you safe and sound.”

Draco hissed and glared at everyone. “Right, until they bloody stab you in the back.”

Harry didn’t have anything to say. Draco would never understand and he didn’t really care. Draco was Draco, and he was Harry. Draco would have to accept his decision the same way he accepted when Draco decided to kill himself.

Dumbledore left quietly. Jaz and Snape started going over the spell that would be done and the preparation needed.

Harry would need to practice controlling his magic so that he could affect the normal realm. The last part of the spell would require his focus to reach to Fawkes since it was unlikely the phoenix would have enough power to connect to him alone. He had three days. Hopefully all the necessary preparations and instruments would be taken care of by then.

Draco waited for a bit while pacing agitatedly. Finally he gave a great sigh and sought out the pen Harry was using to get an idea of where he was. “Potter, you don’t need me for this anymore. I’m going back.”

“He says goodbye,” Jaz said. Draco shrugging unconcernedly as he left. Harry stared at the closed door and his frown grew.

“Potter, you’re a bloody idiot when it comes to that boy,” Severus drawled while he shook his head slowly. “He’s the only one really fighting for you. He’s asking for nothing in return except you stand up for yourself as well.”

He’s wrong.

Severus snorted. He held his hands out for the glasses Jaz was stubbornly wearing. Severus placed them on his nose and took a long look at Harry’s form. “You look like some wild, terrible beast, broken and scarred. Your back is an absolute mess, the skin torn to shreds. You do look burnt, every wound a damn ripple on the char black skin. But to see the way Draco looks at you, I thought you must be some damn Adonis hero.”

Severus stood and folded his arms over his chest. He looked oddly owl like in the round glasses. “Life is not given, Potter, it’s fought for. Every day we battle; predators, the elements, other human beings and our own twisted nature. Here, at the cusp of death, you should be screaming a warrior’s call for life. You shouldn’t be letting someone already as broken as Draco have to raise the energy for you. That he does it at all is amazing enough.”

Harry’s nostrils flared and hands tightened into fists as anger slowly curled around him. Severus noticed, the energy visible with the glasses.

It is not his battle, nor is it yours. I will do what I must, because that is how the situation has made me. I don’t want to hurt anyone.

Severus wasn’t impressed. “Sometimes you have to hurt to survive. You did it with Voldemort. You do it every day when you kill to eat, whether it is ever by your own hands or not. The natural order demands lesser beings fall to stronger ones. Like it or not, you are the stronger, Potter. Not acting it will kill off what is left of your bloodline.”

Harry didn’t care about his bloodline. His parents were dead, as were the Dursleys. If another Potter existed out there, he didn’t know about it. He didn’t owe anyone for the life he struggled with his short years and he wasn’t going to start now.

It’s better if this creature doesn’t continue on. Clearly the kalistar aren’t good.

“McVicar, I blame you for this,” Severus growled and turned on Jaz who was flipping through notes. “Demonizing him. You of all people should be more accepting.”

Jaz’s tongue twitched over his sharp fang as he nodded thoughtfully. “I accept Mr. Potter for how he is; a potentially dangerous, berserker creature with more power than he will ever know what to do with. I don’t hold it against him but I certainly don’t want to be the one carrying him back into this realm either.”

Snape glared and turned back to Harry. “They’re cowards, Potter. Selfish cowards who fear power they can’t control. You should not let them sway you. If someone like Draco can see, surely you must know it’s true.”

Harry sighed and looked away from his professor’s stinging gaze. What the hell do you want from me, Snape? I’m tired of all this. What say do I have? My life is in their hands.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t speak up for yourself. It’s not an excuse to let Draco think you’re not fighting to stay. He’s falling apart. He needs you to be strong right now.” Severus was quiet in his plea, intent and soft spoken. It very much reminded Harry Draco cared for him.

Harry grumbled to himself and then nodded at Snape. He turned on his heel and out the door to find Draco.

He didn’t pass many in the hall. The hour was late and Harry nothing more than a floating pen to most. He clicked it unconsciously as he twitched with pent up energy.

There was no good news today, just layer after layer of shit problems to pile on his shoulders. He survived Voldemort but apparently not by much and god knew for how much longer. He didn’t remember being injured while battling the stain of a man, but then, Harry didn’t feel much of anything beyond the roar of power singing in his ears as he destroyed Voldemort. There was nothing else but power and light and victory.

Somehow, Voldemort still took his revenge. Harry was on the precipice of death, waiting to see if he would fall in this echo of life or be brought back to his own realm where the pain would be felt. He wasn’t really rushing for either.

Except, he had to, didn’t he? Time was ticking down and Draco, the glorious bastard, was waiting for him. It didn’t matter he was tired, drained and powerless in the face of so much he had no control over. Draco was depending on him to be strong.

Harry stopped in the hallway. He tapped his hand on the wall to remind himself he was real as power shot through him in painful bursts. It was a chain reaction lately, not one spark but many.

Somehow Draco found a way to control him. He took the wild mating call and wrapped it around his elegant pale fingers to turn it into something bearable. Harry had no excuse in it anymore, no way to justify giving in to the urges without the drive pounding in him to push him forward.

Stupid Malfoy, wanting him to be impossible with him. Right now that would mean to be back in their realm, alive and not a wild beast. Somehow it seemed a damn fucking lot to ask for, even for Draco’s standards.

Harry stared at the pen. He began to click it repeatedly again as he continued walking to Draco’s room.

SCENE #Written on his skin

Draco awoke slowly as a strange tickle pulled him from his sleep. Something ran up his leg. Harry’s warm hand gripped him in place while he slid something cool and thin across his skin. Draco sat up slowly. The lights raised in his windowless room let him know it was morning.

Blearily he followed down his leg which was exposed to the cold castle air since he fell asleep in just boxers that night on his warm sheets. His flesh was peppered with light blue pen lines and Draco blinked, and watched as more appeared under the pen Jaz made for Harry.

Harry stopped what he was doing now Draco was awake. He finished with a final flourish and clicked the pen shut. Draco closed his eyes as Harry’s hands moved up his body. He traced words with his fingers and lingered over patches of flesh to breathe hot breath. Draco opened his eyes when Harry lifted his left palm and held it in front of his face so he could read.

“This is the hand you hold yourself back with,” Draco read aloud. He followed down to his wrist and tilted his head to read. “This is your less dominant arms but is strong for all the ways you control yourself. You’re subtle, steady and don’t need to prove anything. You’re just happy to be.”

Harry kissed his fingertips one by one. Draco’s eyes strayed to the sensation and then slipped to his right hand. “You create and destroy with this hand. Build, flow magic and make impossible things happen. This arm strives to be and do, defend and attack and change what can’t always be changed.” Draco bit his lip and his eyelashes lowered when Harry’s breath brushed over his cheek. He caught the sight of writing on his torso down the center of his chest.

“You’re beautiful, strong, full of fire and emotion. You’re able to handle any obstacle with brilliance and grace…” Draco trailed off and shook his head weakly. “I can’t, Harry. I’m not so fucking strong that I can just accept you dying.”

Harry kissed his cheek and pulled away to trace Draco’s hand down to his navel. Draco followed and read. “You’re convincing, alluring, terribly persuasive in such a selfless way. You’re a hypocrite by marrying away your life while demanding I fight for mine.” Draco stopped again and looked away.

Harry pulled his head back gently. He kissed Draco’s other cheek and moved his hand down to his thigh.

“This is the leg you used to run away. This leg too you from You-Know-Who and brought you to an empty world because you were too afraid to live. It took you out the door tonight because you were afraid to see me die.” Draco’s voice hushed to something close to a sigh. He finished with the last line Harry stopped at when he woke up. “This leg is not your dominant leg but it might be your strongest support—Potter, that is a fucking shit thing to say.”

Harry clicked the pen open. He moved to Draco’s bare right leg and slowly wrote over his thigh. Draco read it aloud as it appeared on his skin. “This is the leg that leads you into battle… It brought you from your parents’ house into a new world of magic. It brought you to me full of fire, flight and a whole lot of prat.” Draco snorted and shoved Harry lightly. Harry wasn’t done and moved down his leg and slowly covered Draco’s skin with words.

“This leg will lead you next because you always move forward. You’re compelled as who you are no matter your fear. You survive even if it’s in quiet compromise. When you’re loud, this is the leg you stomp down and demand to be heard and known… and answered.” Draco frowned as Harry stopped. He dug the pen lightly as if not sure whether to continue or not.”

“Finish it,” Draco implored quietly.

Hesitantly, Harry continued and the pen swirled sensation over his skin. I’ll fight to live if you fight to live.

Draco took a slow breath. His brows furrowed as the words sank in. “What are you saying. Do you want me to not marry?”

Yes.

Draco closed his eyes and sank back down on the bed and his pillow. It would be so easy to say yes while alone with Harry. The real world was so far away while they hid in his room together. He wouldn’t be able to keep such a promise. Not when the first one was made the way it was with his blood and on the brink of death.

“Potter, you make it back here in one piece and we’ll talk about it.”

Harry scribbled on the back of Draco’s left hand. He raised it to read.

Coward.

“Yeah, well, there you have it,” Draco said with a shrug. Harry grabbed his other hand and wrote slower over the back of it.

Warrior.

Draco blinked. “Hmm. I think you’re a little confused here.”

You are both. Impossible. Beautiful. And very GAY.

“Shut up,” Draco grumbled. He wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed by the pretty words or the gay remark.

Harry just added another ‘very’ on top of the first, then surround the whole thing in a heart. I love all of you.

Draco blushed and tried to look away but Harry kept lifting his hand up. “Fine. Quit it, you pain. You love me; I get it. Thank you—or whatever the hell you’re supposed to say to an idiot who doesn’t know how to be proper and just writes all over a person while they’re sleeping.”

You love me.

Draco scowled. His gaze slipped away again only to jolt back when Harry bit his hand. “Hey! Fine, I might… uh, I might kinda love you.” Harry nipped him again, this time on his arm. “Potter, this is not the way to get me to say things, you bloody git.” If Harry cared, he gave no sign and instead nipped Draco’s arm repeatedly. It was having a queer effect and Draco’s yelps quickly turned into heated moans as he gasped for air. Stop that… oh, seriously. Git.”

Harry licked up his arm next. The flat of his tongue did nothing to smear the ink in its proper realm but it did manage to tickle at Draco’s arm hair. Draco grasped weakly at Harry’s hair but lost his intent to stop him moments into the movement. He tangled fingers into Harry’s locks and puled him up for a very needed kiss.

“How are you being so behaved?” Draco asked distractedly when Harry’s hands ghosted up his sides. It took Harry a moment to answer for the pen was lost in the sheet and there was very little left of Draco to write on.

Need. Yours is different right now.

“Oh?” Draco felt flushed and vulnerable as Harry wrote a final word on his knee.

Love.

The pen was once again tossed aside. Harry cupped Draco’s face and his fingers gently traced his jaw and up to his ear. Draco breathed deeply in the hold as he felt a warmth slowly bloom over his skin and made him feel stronger than he had in days. He didn’t understand how Harry could do it but was starting to as he thought of the little his father once told him of the kalistar.

It was before his first year of Hogwarts when his father went through a list of dos and don’ts. One big don’t was the Forbidden Forest. If Draco ever came across a white dragon with scales and feathers, he was to run no matter what. But a gold one, the kalistar, with long spraying horns and feathered wings was very much a protector. Draco was to trust and love such a being and it would turn black and keep him safe. But Draco never saw either. The beings which stalked him at the edge of the forest were always invisible to him, like his pet Karia.

Draco was convinced he would become the murderous beast if his ring was removed and he was allowed to transform, just as his father while in prison. It was the only logical thing given how Lucius feared the vesper and was also one himself. His father never sensed Karia and called him frivolous for even suggesting she existed. Lucius must have even less senses in the other realm than he did.

“Harry, could you just…?” Draco trailed off when Harry sank down against him and pushed him into the mattress with arms wrapped tight. Except the long swipes with his tongue over Draco’s neck, Harry was a perfect gentleman.

Draco closed his eyes and tried not to think of the sad thoughts of his father becoming a murderous animal to protect him. Instead he drifted as he felt Harry’s weight and heat and slow thump of heart. Each random spark of Harry’s energy was a flash of reminder to pull Draco back from fantasy, back from allowing himself to be fully content.

SCENE #Beasts and boyfriends

The clock chimed softly and reminded Draco he only had ten minutes to get to breakfast before class. He moved his hands over Harry’s back and shoulders, not really in a rush to get up while enjoying the comforting weight and press of flesh. Although Harry looked torn, especially on his back, when wearing the glasses, his skin felt smooth and strong. Draco wondered if it was the way of things in that particular realm; Harry’s beast body was injured, but Harry himself wasn’t yet. He supposed as long as Harry continued to feel so comforting and caring, it really didn’t matter much.

Eating was important after not eating for so long; at least it’s what Draco’s stomach was insisting. Draco gently pushed at Harry’s shoulders until he obliged and got up.

“I’m going to have to wash it off, you know,” Draco said softly as he indicated all the pen on him. Harry took his hand and nodded his messy hair into Draco’s palm. With a sigh, Draco turned and walked wearily to the bathroom, still tired and weak from his difficult week.

He started, eyes wide as he caught his face in the mirror. Harry had wrote across his forehead. The words reflected backward and it took a moment for Draco to discern them. “Be my boyfriend? Potter, you fucking idiot. Where are you?” He stormed toward the bathroom door, only to knock into Harry as he was stepping through, the bloody perv.

“You’re invisible! How the hell can I date someone I can’t even see? I have to have some fucking standards!” Draco wasn’t quite sure why he was so angry about it all. He suspected as Harry wrapped arms around him and moved his hands over his back and raised fire in him, Harry’s argument might have some validity. Touching was certainly enjoyable. And hell, they argued much less since Harry couldn’t say as many stupid things. Or at least, Draco couldn’t hear them.

“Hands, you,” Draco snapped warningly when Harry once again grabbed his ass and squeezed firmly. “Have you conveniently forgotten I’m getting married?”

In rebuttal, Harry lifted Draco’s hand and traced the heart which pointed out Draco was very, very gay.

Draco sighed. “I have responsibilities. People are depending on me, and… and I made a promise, Harry. I can’t just go back on my word.”

Harry went further down his arm and traced over how Draco could try to change what couldn’t be changed. After, Harry began tapping words on his flesh while Draco softly repeated them aloud. “Love… changes… impossible…” He stared as Harry stopped and lingered at Harry’s final promise to fight to live if Draco did too.

Draco huffed but didn’t resist the arms that pulled him close as Harry nuzzled into his neck. “I can’t be so easily persuaded, Potter. But… but if you want a boyfriend who is going to be married in less that two weeks, I can agree to that.” It was hardly an ideal situation, and it made Draco’s heart twist even to think.

He hoped Harry wouldn’t be satisfied with such a small part of him. Draco didn’t want to lose his heart to him—a heart if he were in a proper state of mind he could admit was already very much lost and given to Harry—and then have to walk into a loveless, sexless marriage for the rest of his life. Wizards didn’t divorce, not if they were pureblood. One had to look infallible in everything, including matters of the heart when you held so much power.

Harry tapped him once again and Draco glanced down at the text. Impossible.

“I know, but it’s all I can give you. It’s all I have to give right now.” Draco sighed heavily.

Harry seemed to disagree but the words written weren’t enough. Gently he took Draco’s hands and led him to the shower. He reached Draco’s long fingers to turn the spray on. Draco pulled away and charmed the temperature to something agreeable. He kept his eyes downcast and bottom lip worried between his teeth as he Draco slowly pulled his boxers down and stepped out of them. He didn’t look fully in Harry’s direction. His silver eyes slid toward the area Harry’s powerful aura flickered and then returned to the loofah he was soaping up.

Harry wanted to be his boyfriend. Harry loved him. It was a strange feeling. A nearly impossible feeling; Harry had been gone for so long and Draco once dreamed of having a boyfriend just like him. He’d been waiting for someone who got very annoyed with the mean things he said until he had to be a nicer person. Someone who demanded with flashing green eyes until Draco would do the things his body really, really wanted to do and finally shut his stupid, logical mind up that always did as his parents said.

His skin tingled under Harry’s gaze as Draco began to wash the ink from his skin. He watched intently as the words faded along with Harry’s thoughts. “Harry, just… oh. Just behave, please,” he asked huskily as Harry’s hand wrapped around his smaller one and the loofah sopped white bubbles as he tightened his grip. Harry obliged somewhat by just using his hand to help Draco in an unneeded task of washing every spot he could reach. With Harry leaning against him and Draco wet and soapy with much hot breath moving down his throat, it was difficult not to want.

The crazed mating urge was not there but it didn’t mean there was no lust. Even before Harry transformed and even before Draco fully understood what just a whiff of his sex scent could do to him, Draco wanted. He wanted to feel Harry’s hands on him, his strong body pressed close while his mouth rained kisses down. He wanted to be worshiped with demanding eyes until he couldn’t say no. In a lot of ways, it was a more dangerous ache than the mating drive. This one was soft and warm, insidious in its quiet but unyielding power.

Very compelling, Draco thought dizzily when Harry’s free hand moved down his outer thigh. His fingers rubbed into his muscles and dragged up his hip and side.

Draco inhaled through his nose sharply, his eyes wide, body tense as Harry found his nipple and twisted it gently. He rolled it back and forth between fingers and turned the nub red, while he blew soft streams of air over his neck. Draco gasped as he was pulled back tighter against his body and water sprayed down over him. “This is dangerous,” Draco whispered breathlessly.

Harry’s tongue flicked out, touched his flesh, and was followed swiftly by nipping teeth over his long neck. Harry didn’t seem to care how dangerous things were. He was still the reckless Gryffindor who didn’t give a fuck about consequences; exactly how Draco needed him to be. Harry pulled him even closer, unbalancing him until Draco was forced to rest all his weight on his sturdy form.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned back into Harry’s touch, his wet hair resting on a dry shoulder. Harry ghosted fingers up his torso, over his ribcage, down his stomach to dip fingertips into his belly button. Harry’s touch grew firmer, bolder. He avoided Draco’s straining erection to move down the front of his pale thighs. It was loving and maddening all at once. Draco whimpered when the shower spray touched his twitching cock and for a moment he thought it was Harry.

Draco wasn’t going to wait for Harry to lose his shit and run away again. He reached down his body, grabbed his leaking dick and gave it a few well needed tugs. Breath tickled Draco’s ear in a sudden burst and he imagined Harry must have liked the sight. Harry’s hand covered his to assist readily. “Oh fuck… Oh.”

No, this was far more dangerous. He wasn’t quite sure when it happened but Harry managed to get his hand with the loofah to Draco’s back and was soaping his ass and thighs with slow circles. Bubbles tingled over Draco’s balls and crack and dripped between his cheeks in a slippery heat he couldn’t deny moaning over.

“Please, god, please. Don’t leave this time, Harry. Don’t leave me alone with this again,” Draco begged softly when Harry released both his hands and the loofah fell to the ground. Draco stilled all movement and waited to see if he was going to pull away. Harry was just as still, barely breathing as his chest moved against Draco’s back.

Slowly, so slow Draco wondered if he were imagining it, Harry traced his fingers back to his entrance. Draco licked his lips and unconsciously spread his legs a little wider and bent forward. Harry was tentative as he probed the tight pucker of Draco’s hole, almost like he was afraid he was going to run if pushed too fast. His fingers were too dry and unaffected by the soap until Harry coated them in his mouth and tried again. Draco didn’t resist, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth gasping loud pants as Harry carefully stretched him.

Harry’s other arm wrapped securely around his waist to keep him from falling as Draco swayed and whimpered. Draco couldn’t understand how strong Harry could be. He was both holding him upright with invisible arms and body, and yet could touch him so achingly soft. Each push of fingers, tight and hot inside him, burned Draco’s fire brighter and his entire body shook from the touch. In that moment Draco was certain he would do anything, give anything, be anything, just to have Harry be his.

He glared at the ring on his hand. He hated it, hated what he knew would be a far more terrible existence than he could have ever guessed if he chose to be a beast with Harry. He might be the type of creature who would be a murderous, wild thing all year round, and could possibly craved human flesh. That it didn’t totally repulse him was even more terrifying because he knew it was the answer to all his fucking problems. As a beast he couldn’t marry, couldn’t be expected to be anything but mindless and wild. He could be with Harry always and never be afraid again.

Fuck, he could feel alive again. For the rest of his life Harry would touch him, taste him, fill him. Just as long as he lived, Harry would be his. They could be feral together. Wild, mindless creatures out in the woods who hunted and rutted and never gave another thought to what the world wanted. They had both given enough to earn that. Hadn’t they?

Draco closed his eyes to the view of the silver ring and let Harry push him up against the wall and bury his thick fingers deeper inside his clenching flesh. “Hell. Harry, I need you.”

Harry’s mouth moved to his neck and nipped harder until he drew blood. He lapped his tongue over the red fluid in long swipes, breath hot and strained. He grabbed Draco’s hand, the one with the ring, and carefully twirled the silver band on his finger. Draco opened his eyes to watch, his breath caught in his throat.

So much of him wanted to. Almost all of him wanted to give in. Life as it was just wasn’t fucking living.

It would be so easy.

Draco closed his hand into a fist and trapped the ring in place. “I need to make sure you’re brought back,” he said unsteadily. There was a different, dangerous rush of fire running through him at the realization he was moments from taking the ring off and giving in. “I can’t trust them to do it, to not kill you. So I need to be whole until that moment. Until then, okay?”

Harry breathed hot fire over him. His tongue licked over his skin and hard body pushed Draco’s slender form up against the cool tile of the shower wall and trapped him in place. Draco wasn’t certain, but he might have just promised—Harry and himself—if Harry lived, he would live too. He would continue not as he was, but as a beast so they could remain together.

Laughter, hot and bright, bubbled up in Draco at the very thought. God, he wanted to be with Harry. No matter what. He wanted Harry to live and stay and be with him forever. “Ah, fuck, Harry. Be my boyfriend. I wanna be—oh, hell.” Draco moaned and inched his feet wider on the floor to push back onto Harry’s fingers.

Harry’s movements were relentless. Three fingers filled Draco’s passage, stretched him wide, and Harry’s hips thrust against his persistent hand in eagerness. Draco released small, soft chokes of breath. The shower spray spluttered water into his mouth as he shuddered around the feel of Harry’s forceful, eager thrusts of fingers. “Come on… come on,” Draco groaned. He tried to push back but Harry’s body wouldn’t budge. “God, I need you, Harry. Needed you for so long. Stop drawing it out and fuck me—oh, hell!”

Draco’s growl was cut off with a gasp. Harry removed his fingers swiftly, grabbed Draco by the hips and pressed his large cock against his ass. Draco forgot just how big Harry was, and he wasn’t sure if spit was really going to be enough to ease onto such a thick cock without being injured. He closed his eyes and held back a hysterical laugh when he realized he really didn’t give a fuck. He would rather it hurt than not finally have Harry inside him.

He was apparently very, very fucking gay.

Draco let the tension leave his body and turned his head. He found Harry’s face and kissed what turned out to be his jaw. Harry dipped his head down further and kissed Draco deeply while he slowly pushed weight forward into his hips and against the ring of muscles of Draco’s entrance. He was going to be late for class, Draco realized dimly in the back of his mind, the thought disappearing as quickly as it came.

“Harry… oh… oh, god. Fuck.” One of Harry’s hands came out to rub his back and side, and his breath puffed over Draco’s cheek. Draco barely noticed, all his focus on the mix of agony, pain, and pleasure as Harry pushed the head of his cock slowly past the tight ring of muscles guarding Draco’s hole. He felt Harry hesitate when fire shot through his body. Draco tried to fight the urge to push back, push out the huge intrusion filling him so completely and then some. Both of Harry’s hands rubbed Draco’s arms and back soothingly. Harry kissed his neck and nipped, as if he could somehow distract from the unbearable fullness Draco’s body was consumed with.

Somehow, it was working, and Draco’s broken cries receded after long, despairing moments of red fire. The overwhelming became a whelming, and then eventually an ache. Draco shuddered and pushed his hips back, needing movement. Only to stop and gasp, the nerve endings within him waking up as if Harry just sank into him again and skin dragged across skin in almost dry friction. Harry noticed, and licked-wet fingers probed around his stretched entrance again while Draco jerked and moaned against the wall.

In moments everything else slipped away. Harry sank in deeper, the saliva still not quite enough but they were both sweating so much things were getting slicker. Draco couldn’t really care, his mind and body spinning. With eyes squeezed shut, Draco pushed back and welcomed Harry in as deep as he could go. He met each small thrust with gasped cries and quivering knees. Harry mumbled something in his ear and Draco didn’t care that Potter still couldn’t figure out he couldn’t hear him. Harry rubbed his sides, massaged Draco’s ass and thighs while he rested buried deep inside and around him. It was an unbearable throbbing fire that filled Draco, and made him feel so vulnerable and connected all at once.

What a fucking terrible, intimate feeling to have Harry so deep inside and surrounding around him and still he couldn’t fucking see him!

Would it have been better without the ring or with the wild mating ache to steal the pain away? Draco didn’t know. With some slippery soap that actually affected Harry’s realm? Very fucking likely. But it wasn’t bad, not bad, just so much. Not just in his body, but in the emptiness he only recently named. It was empty since he nearly killed himself, and now, somehow, that void too was unbearably full.

Harry again murmured into his shoulder and throat and Draco smiled through the tears streaking down his face at what a fucking idiot he was. The two of them; him for being fucked by an invisible and near dead savior, and Harry for still fucking talking like he could hear him. “Do it, Harry. You’re my boyfriend and you have to do as I say.”

Harry bit him hard on the neck and Draco’s body tensed and tightened somehow around the impossible thickness splitting him in two. He glanced down at where Harry was licking his new wound, knowing what he wanted by it. To claim him. Harry would have him like a beast, like some fucking animal who could be overpowered and brought to knees by teeth and cock. Once the ring was off, Harry would claim him and he would be his. Draco loved the idea of it.

Harry moved and pulled partially out of his tightness. Draco cried out, his hand clamped over his mouth to stop the loud noise from echoing off the bathroom walls. But he couldn’t stop the sounds, not when Harry thrust back in and Draco’s arms went weak and he was unable to lift them any longer. Draco’s legs were next, but Harry was so damn strong it didn’t matter. Draco was held up, pinned to the wall as Harry fucked him as slowly and thoroughly as his cock would allow.

Draco could feel him everywhere, could almost hear Harry’s grunts with each thrust, and soft murmurs between as he licked up his throat and ear and cheek. It was so bizarre and fucking sexy. Draco was wrapped in his scent, warm and near suffocating, along with his flesh and sweat and teeth that kept nipping little sharp jolts of pleasure and pain. Even the annoying sparks over Harry’s skin were suddenly damn good and welcome. They were electric bursts while Harry built a slow rhythm and Draco felt everything.

“Harry… fuck. Harder, come on,” he begged. Sweat mixed with the shower to drip into his eyes and sting and changed the flavor as it flowed into his mouth and he tasted. Harry only moved slower, with long drawn out thrusts that made Draco cry out each time. He gripped blindly at the wall as Harry found a place inside him that burst color and pleasure with each hit. After only a dozen of these amazing, shocking thrusts, Harry pushed into Draco unrelenting and pinned him. One hand came up to wrap firmly, yet gently around Draco’s throat and the other to slowly push fingers into his moaning mouth. Draco’s tongue met the long, hot digits. He pressed to the flat of them, lured them deeper and sucked them down almost desperate as his skin danced with unrestrained energy.

He didn’t know why it felt so damn good to have Harry fill his mouth so saliva dripped down his jaw like some frothing animal. Never mind the thrilling, yet comforting sensation of his throat being gripped the way it was, as if Harry could break him or nuzzle him on a whim. It felt so good, the same way it felt so wild to know Harry was just so much stronger than him, able to take whatever he wanted so easily, yet willing to stop if only asked. God, and he was taking him, so thick inside, so intent to be slow and make sure he felt every inch as his body stretched and opened to his Harry.

Draco struggled to breathe around the fingers dipping down his tongue and felt when Harry changed. His thickness somehow swelled inside even more and Harry’s hot breath broke into small, desperate puffs as his hips jolted forward with shallow, quick pumps, as if he could bury just a little deeper and they would be joined and one. Draco spread his legs as wide as he could and pushed back into the jolting thrusts. His eyes closed as his body tensed and tightened and clenched so fucking good. Harry murmured something into his neck before he suddenly bit down and drew more blood. Draco shouted and jerked from the pain and pleasure. Harry dug nails into his throat and Draco bit down on the fingers in his mouth as he came. Their hips bucked and slammed in rhythm and then in discord, Draco so tight and breathless and lost.

They started to shake as their orgasms faded, almost as if what was left of their fire and strength was drained with their seed. Harry held him tight, still buried deep within, holding him up and breathing him in deep. Draco had no complaints as he caught his breath and moaned unintelligibly against the wall. Harry’s fingers slowly withdrew from between his lips, the digits smooth trailing wet down his lips. Harry panted with him as his chest heaved. His hands slowly moved over his form and pulled tired, hungry sounds from Draco as they rested.

SCENE #The dragon revealed

Harry finally pulled away. He carefully extracted from Draco’s sore passage and turned him around to face him. Draco couldn’t see him, which made things once again awkward when Harry just wanted to stare at him and be seen as well. Harry settled for kneeling and licking up Draco’s cum from his tight stomach. His tongue greedily ate up every drop while Draco whimpered and watched the white fluid disappear from view.

Harry moved lower and nuzzled into Draco’s spent cock, not wanting to irritate the likely sensitive flesh. Draco gave no sign of protest, so he lapped at the softening flesh and cleaned more thoroughly than the shower alone. He moved to his balls and pushed Draco back against the wall to rest and lift his thigh over Harry’s shoulder so he could reach his sack and entrance with greater ease. He tasted his new mate and the way Draco’s natural scent and his now pervasive one mixed in his tightness and slowly dribbled out.

Draco gave a low whine when he realized what Harry was doing. He grabbed blindly at his messy, sweaty hair and clutched while Harry continue his deranged, long tongued assault on his sore hole. Harry seemed determined to recollect his seed and suddenly turned Draco and pushed him face first into the wall so he could have better admittance to his entrance and passage.

Harry licked at him with zest; Draco wasn’t certain what it did for Harry, but he imagined it might be just as maddening as when Draco sucked him off and gotten all of Harry’s sex scent on him. Maybe the smell of Draco made Harry fucking mad for him too. Hell, maybe it was the smell of them together, hole and cum joined and feeling so right.

Draco went to reach behind him so he could see for himself. Harry caught his straying hand and bit firmly and licked. He stood and invisible fingers pushed into Draco’s mouth without warning. They were warm, bitter and musky tasting. Draco groaned and his eyes rolled back from the flavor of exactly what Harry was seeking, but now mixed with his saliva. It filled Draco’s senses and made him impossibly dizzy. Still, it wasn’t as overwhelming as when Harry caught him in the hallway. Without Harry to amplify the mating call it didn’t ache the same unbearable way even if it did ache.

Harry turned him again and picked Draco up. He lifted him with ease while Draco wrapped long, shaking legs around his waist. Harry nearly tried to take them through the bathroom door until Draco convinced him to wait a damn moment so he could work the handle. Once in the bedroom Harry threw Draco down on the bed. His shower wet skin prickled cold now out of the steam of the bathroom but he was quickly warmed when Harry climbed up his form. His kisses were desperate as they pressed their bodies together.

With a groan, Draco suddenly pushed him off. Bleary eyed, he stared around his room in confusion. Another loud knock, repeated and worried, sounded from the door leading out to the hallway. Draco glanced at the clock, swore and then smacked at Harry’s returning hands that were trying to keep him bed-bound and beneath him.

Sure, Harry had quieted the fucking mating urge a lot more. Either that, or Harry just wasn’t as dependent on it now he knew Draco would give in without it. It didn’t mean the git wasn’t still determined.

“Quit it. Harry!” Draco snapped. Only to laugh when Harry lifted him off the bed and dropped him down again with a bounce. “Oh fuck, you are so god damn powerful,” he murmured appreciatively as he stared up in Harry’s general direction, his eyes heavy lidded and full of wonder.

The door again pounded, making Draco nearly jump at the sound. “Crap.” He scrambled up and eluded hands he couldn’t see coming but could sense well enough to avoid. He grabbed a bathrobe from behind the bathroom door, slipped it on and cinched the belt securely. He carefully unlocked his door and peered out into the hall.

It was Blaise, his hand raised as if to knock again and eyes wild in fear. “Draco? Are you? Did you?” He pushed the door open without finishing his thought and walked into Draco’s room and looking him over like he didn’t believe he was real.

Draco flushed when he realized he was covered in bites all over his neck. Potter had a damn problem keeping him blemish free. And well, he certainly didn’t mind how the marks were created at the time. “What?”

“You’re late,” Blaise said finally. He seemed to deflate as Draco showed no signs of serious damage. “I was knocking for ages and you didn’t answer. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” Blaise ran a shaky hand through his hair and his fingers tangled in his magically straightened black locks he let flow free that day.

Draco shrugged. He was starting to understand what Blaise must have thought and he didn’t know how to handle it. He shut the door to his room; he didn’t need passersby to gawk while he got ready for class and tried to explain to Blaise he wasn’t going to kill himself. No matter how upset he might seem. He wasn’t that person anymore and there would never be another Voldemort to run from quite so aggressively. Which was all well and good, but Harry didn’t seem to be done with him just yet. Draco groaned as he was pulled from his bureau and clothes and up against Harry’s chest.

“Harry, you’ve had your turn. Now I have to deal with the rest of the world,” Draco grumbled. He wasn’t angry at Harry but more at the daily mundane life which insisted on interrupting them. “We’ll finish this later…” Harry’s mouth trailed over his jaw, hot and compelling. “Damn it, you pain.”

“Shit, Potter, keep it in your pants for five seconds,” Blaise muttered as he turned his head to give his poor pink friend some privacy. “I was worried about Draco. Before Pansy and I left last night, he agreed to have breakfast with us.”

A dark laugh burst out of Draco as Harry’s hands caressed through his robe, between his thighs, over his tightening balls and pressed against his entrance. Draco grabbed Harry’s hair and twisted harshly. His smile was wicked as Harry continued to press fingers right against his hole and wiggled ever so gently to remind him what they could so easily do, audience or not.

“You know what, Blaise? Get the fuck out. We’re in the middle of something and your shit concerns can wait until I’m fucking satisfied for a change.”

“Satisfied? What, are you two shagging now?” Blaise asked darkly. He glared over his shoulder and then quickly looked away. Draco’s expression was a cross between ferocious and lusty. It wasn’t a look Blaise had ever seen on his well-controlled friend and not necessarily a bad look on him either.

“Yes, as a matter of fact we are.” Another odd laugh bubbling out of Draco, followed by a slow exhalation as Harry’s fingers pressed more insistent against his hole.

Blaise whirled, hand covering his eyes with just enough to peek through and find Draco’s flushed face. Once he realized there really was nothing to see, Blaise dropped his hand completely. “I thought you weren’t going to? He’s a kalistar and dangerous! What has he done? Has he used his allure to snare you, Draco? Do I need to get Snape or Dumbledore down here?”

Harry’s power raised up. With one hand hot between Draco’s ass cheeks, he used the other to push raw magic toward the annoying interruption. Draco snorted and tightened his grip on Harry’s hair. “Stop, Potter. He’s my domain, not yours.”

Blaise watched with brow furrowed as Draco reached his tongue out and seemed to licking Harry from chin to forehead. The sudden pressure and whirl of power in the air stopped and papers settled back again as Harry relented. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

“Nothing,” Draco drawled. He pulled his attention from Harry to glare at Blaise’s judgmental expression. “As long as no one fucking interferes, we are perfectly fucking fine. Go on to class and I’ll catch up later.”

Blaise shook his head, his eyes narrowed at Draco’s surprisingly harsh tone. “Draco, if he’s really a kalistar, you shouldn’t be alone with him. Definitely not doing what you two are doing. He could be manipulating you.”

Draco laughed again, the sound less hysterical and more angry. “Funny how everyone seems to know how dangerous the kalistar are but no one has bothered to say what the fucking vesper do. I’ve got the fucking ring on, Blaise. And Potter here does whatever I ask, as long as I ask just the right way. Now get the fuck out and mind your own business.”

“So what, I’m supposed to believe you’re manipulating him now? Don’t you see how fucking messed up that is, Draco?” Blaise insisted.

Draco growled when he realized Blaise wasn’t going to let the fucking thing go anytime soon. Shit, he just wanted more sex; it wasn’t some fucking crime. Sure, he was skipping class for it but who the fuck cared? Draco scowled when he felt Harry move away. He thought the sexy beast was giving up, only to realize Harry was seeking out his pen so he could communicate properly with Blaise.

Blaise watched warily as Harry clicked the pen open and floated it toward the nearest piece of scattered blank paper on the floor.

Zabini, I’m trying to have sex with my boyfriend. You’re not invited, so go fuck off.

Blaise glowered and put his hands on his hips. “Fuck you, Potter. Until I know he’s not killing himself and you’re not raping him, I’m not fucking leaving.”

“For fuck sake, Blaise!” Draco yelled and threw his hands up in the air. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“I’m out of my mind? For the last goddamn week Pans and I’ve been trying to pry out what the fuck has gotten you all quiet and dead inside like the last time. All you told us was Potter transformed and has been aggressive with the damn mating call. What exactly do you want from me? All we could assume was that he forced you. Especially since you told us what he was last night, and then kicked us out so we had to research on our own. The kalistar are dangerous—Like, top level, don’t fuck around with, run away as fast as you can if ever seen! If you don’t fucking communicate, how are we going to be able to help you?”

Draco was about to snarl an angry retort about how he didn’t need anyone’s nosy fucking help, when Harry started writing, the pen drawing Blaise’s eye.

You’re right, Zabini. I should have come to you after Malfoy raped me. It was wrong and I was just so ashamed and hurt. It felt so damn good and—

“You’re a fucking sod, you dickweed,” Blaise hissed. He stamped on the parchment but avoided the pen in case he damaged it. “This isn’t some fucking joke. We’ve been worried. Hermione said you were obsessed over Draco before you left school last year. That the beast was just starting to show and it was messed up in the head. You’ve both been avoiding talking to us about it. The whole situation is fucked up and you’re spending too much time alone together.”

Draco had heard enough. He was the one miserable the fucking week because Harry hadn’t been spending time with him but hiding outside the door. “You know what’s fucking messed up? I find some fucking happiness and you’re suddenly worried over me. If you’re so worried, then realize just how much better I am today for having Harry, and leave it at that.”

Blaise paused and gave his friend of the last six years a thoughtful look. “Honestly? If it weren’t for the ring, I wouldn’t even be sure you were human anymore.”

Draco stared at Blaise’s very serious brown eyes, and couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him again. Fine, he sounded fucking crazy. And he felt… god he felt so fucking good and crazy and he really, really, really wanted to finish what he was doing with Harry before his friend decided to take it upon himself to dictate his goddamn life.

Zabini, you say it like it’s a bad thing. Fucking look at him. He’s gorgeous and wild and not putting up with anyone’s shit, including mine. Do you really want him back to before, all gray, quiet and sad?

Blaise’s nostril’s flared as he glared at Harry’s scrawl and bent down slightly to read it all. “Yeah, and what happens when you bite it, Potter? You just going to leave him here, some crazy, out of control version of himself because you couldn’t keep your hands off him?”

Draco snapped his hand up. The lights flickered ominously and everything went very still. His face was stone, just like when he nearly hexed Nott in the Great Hall.

You really might want to rephrase that, Harry wrote. Draco is who he is and I haven’t changed him. I just happened to be around to enjoy as he woke up.

Blaise was only angrier; Draco seemed even more irrational when Potter was blamed. “He shouldn’t be waking if he’s wearing the ring. Why is he getting more like, like some wild beast?”

Blaise was staring at the paper as he waited for Harry to answer but it was Draco who spoke. “Because that is who I’ve always been, before my parents trained it out of me with so much fear and sense of duty that there was nothing left. I am a fucking beast who cries, bleeds, fights and fucks. I feel! And I have been denying it a long fucking time because I was too afraid.”

That’s my dragon. Harry wrote, the words larger and flowing in beautiful script instead of his normal scrawl.

The laughter was bubbling up again, nearly impossible to contain but it wasn’t dark. As Draco let it go he could see, truly, just how joyful it was, this feeling inside. “My control has just been another prison. I’m done playing the fucking good son, good heir, good child, so I wouldn’t be another victim to Voldemort. He’s dead and I’m done. If I need your help, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, worry about your own damn problems and leave me be.”

A war seemed to wage in Blaise as anger and confusion swirled in his dark eyes while he stared at his old friend.

“You’re not weak, Draco, I never thought that. If it was weakness, I don’t think I ever would have feared you would go through with it. You’re too strong. You go against the natural order of things to do horrible things to yourself, like what you did last summer.” Blaise looked away and took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s that beast inside you who is the source of it, who can let you do so much wrong out of pure determination.”

Draco’s lips curled into a snarl. “Still, you judge what I do as right or wrong instead of just accepting it was my fucking choice to make. What is right and wrong when you live in a world run by a monstrous dictator who could have killed us all with ease? Your opinion never mattered. No one’s did but mine. What is anyone to say of the value of my life, when it’s my life? I didn’t go against the natural order; I went with my natural order. I’m sorry you still think you have some say in that, but you don’t. I’ll accept you as a friend but not the ruler of my life.”

Draco’s words only made Blaise angry. He couldn’t handle his concern being turned, in Draco’s mind, into manipulation instead of just being the love he had for his friend. So what if he was trying to control Draco by keeping him alive? At least he would be alive! “You’re fucked, Draco. Fine, fight to die. What the hell do I care? You just gave it all away to your mother anyways. Go play beasts with Potter and pretend you’re not getting married and tied in a couple of weeks. I was concerned. We all were.”

“Your concern does not give you the right to run my fucking life,” Draco said steadily. His anger drained with the more conviction he felt. “I’ll deal with my mother when the time comes. In my way because it’s my right to do that as well. I’ll interact with Harry as I see fit and I don’t need your fucking opinions on the matter. And if you insist on continuing with your bloody prying shit, no matter what your intentions are, I’m going to cut you out of my life. Another choice I get to make where you get no say. Do you fucking understand yet?”

Blaise nodded curtly. Anger blazed even brighter in his eyes. “Well I get some fucking choices in this as well, Draco. One of them being whether I want to be around someone who doesn’t give a fuck about my opinions. At the moment, it’s definitely a no.” With a final glare, Blaise left and snapped the door shut behind him.

Draco stared at the door a moment but didn’t feel regretful at all. His fucking friends wasted their goddamn year thinking he was going to kill himself. They had tried to get him to be something alive when they really had no say in the fucking thing. Draco loved them but not enough to bow to them and their wants over his own. He needed to mourn and numb and be as miserable as he did. He was fucking sad; and there was nothing wrong with it. Draco glanced over when the pen clicked and began to write.

You are fucking sexy when you stand up for yourself.

Draco smirked, and ran his hand through his half dried hair. “I’m sure it’s nothing like the way you used to be, fucking burning from the eyes every time I pissed on one of your mudblood friends just to rile you up.”

So that was on purpose?

“Oh yeah, you have very demanding eyes.” Draco wanted to ask then, why Harry hadn’t tried to interfere when he went home to kill himself last year. But he imagined it was the same reason the infuriating Gryffindor pushed back when Draco was fighting Dumbledore and Jaz for Harry to be allowed to come back. Harry understood his own reasons for doing the things he did. Even if he didn’t understand Draco’s, he at least respected them. Draco would have to do the same.

Draco walked over to the papers on the floor and crouched down next to Harry’s body heat. “Here’s my dilemma. If I give up on the whole marriage thing and you die, I’ve got nothing to fall back on. I don’t think she’d do it, mother needs me too much. But being disowned, homeless and with my name run through the mud is really not some fairytale way to live. She’s promised that as the only option to Vellamorn. I need time to figure out how to get around it.”

Harry took a long moment to reply. His left hand moving out to flow over Draco’s bent leg while he tapped the pen on the floor. And what about if I really am fucked around humans? Is that how you want to live, outcast by your mother, tied to a pariah and forced to live in absolute seclusion? Yeah, I’ve got money and shit but is that enough to put up with never being around people again?

Draco shrugged and bit his lower lip. “As long as you’re alive, I really don’t give a fuck. Just, um, maybe we should also consider the possibility that I may be the fucking crazy one around the scent of human flesh,” he added nervously.

I have. I wanted to talk to you about keeping the ring on.

Draco rolled his eyes. “If you live, it’s coming off. I’ll break up with the bitch first thing, maybe get a place in order where we’ll be safe, but then the bloody thing is off and you are all mine.”

Harry tossed the pen aside, wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him deeply. Draco tried not to think about how moot it all was; Harry was likely dead, and if not, Dumbledore might just finish him off just to be on the safe side. Right now it all felt fucking fantastic and he didn’t want to ruin it with reality.