Harry/Draco fic: Without You (NC-17)
Title: Without you
Author: icicle33
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~7500
Warnings: creature!fic (if that wasn't already clear), a fair amount of blood for the extremely squeamish, male/male sex, mentions of past violence, and so much fluff it will hurt your teeth
Summary: Harry is devastated when Draco comes into his Veela inheritance and leaves him for his mate Christian. Harry assumes that Draco has found his happily ever after with his mate. Until one morning, he finds an unconscious Draco Malfoy on his front doorstep.
Author's note: This fic was written for the do-me-veela Valentine's Day fest . The prompt was Draco has been tricked to mate with someone who is not his real mate. This person uses and abuses him. A special thank you to Alyssa for her last minute beta job. And for anyone that might have read this at the fest, it was originally listed under the title of Fairy Tales and Castles, but I decided I liked this title better. I apologize for any confusion.
Enjoy.
~Without You~
Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows.
Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play.
The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you.
The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you.
~JDL [1]
: : : : :
He was walking down a long, empty corridor, his feet bare but warm against the lush, red velvet carpet that adorned the long corridor, contrasting sharply with the grey stone walls. A faint trill hummed against his ears, soothing him and calling out to him. He ran his hands against the wall, cool beneath his fingertips, walking closer and closer to the faint light at the end of the twisted hallway and towards the beautiful song. As he reached the end of the curved passageway, his fingers numb, he came across a green flame torch. He pulled the torch off the wall and continued walking down the twisted corridor, diverging left and following a set of winding stone stairs that went on for what felt like ages. A cold shudder ran up his body through his bare feet. Still, he didn't turn back and the trill grew louder; it was as if an invisible force was propelling him forwards, not allowing him to turn around until he reached the bottom of the stairs and a menacing, wrought iron door.
The majestic song had stopped, but somehow he knew that it was coming from behind that door. He pressed down on the large door with his left hand, watching it glow bright green and open. The room was dark, almost pitch black and made entirely of slate with a leaky ceiling. The only source of warmth came from a fire that burnt in the corner, the flames grey. And it was cold, so cold that his entire body trembled. For a moment, he thought the room was vacant until he shone his torch on a crumpled figure in the corner. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen-pale, alabaster skin, long, blond hair so white that it gleamed silver in the firelight, and large, delicate feathers, diverging into two magnificent white wings, but one was twisted and broken. He gasped and reached out to touch the stunning wings, softer than silk and humming between his fingers. This beautiful creature, a fallen angel, was drenched in silver blood. How had he not noticed? Turning him over as carefully as possible, a sense of dread filled his gut. A twisted déjà vu flashed through his mind. When pained grey eyes met his, he screamed dropping the torch and accidentally lighting the already damaged wings on fire.
Draco? No. No. It couldn't be. He held the unconscious creature in his arms and watched as the roaring green flames spread, encroaching the entire room around them.
: : : : :
Harry woke drenched in sweat again, his entire body trembling and a deep pang in his chest. This was the third time this week that he had these nightmares and each time they got worse. Today was the first time he had seen the creature's face though; the first time he had stroked the creature's soft, silvery locks and whispered small comforts in his ear, as the flames approached them. A broken Veela.
It was Draco. His stomach knotted at the thought of Draco's crumpled body and lifeless eyes. It was only a dream, a nightmare. That was all. Draco was far away and happy, living the life with his mate and life partner, Christian. Harry was the furthest concern from his mind as he should be. He didn't want to stand in the way of Draco's happiness. And Harry needed to get over this, to stop obsessing over a man he could no longer have, an ex-lover that would never return.
: : : : :
It had been six months since he had seen Draco. Six months since Draco had left and broken his heart.
After the war, Harry and Draco made their peace. It seemed silly to continue their schoolboy rivalry after all the horrors they had witnessed and saving each other's lives. Draco had changed in the time he spent unwillingly in Voldemort's service, matured into a decent bloke. Gone was the loud-mouthed, attention seeking schoolboy Harry had once despised, and in his place was a quiet, softer, and fiercely intelligent version of the boy that Harry had grown to love.
Draco was one of the few people, who didn't cater to him after the war, so Harry found himself in the other boy's presence often, especially since Hermione and Ron had left England to promote house-elf rights across the world. Harry thought that he would never survive without his best friends, his family, but since they had just gotten married, he wanted to give the new couple some space, some much deserved happiness without him tagging along as a miserable third wheel.
Thank Merlin for Draco. He made those first months without Ron and Hermione tolerable. And after only a few short months of friendship, Harry had fallen head over heels for Draco, who had somehow reciprocated his feelings. They had been inseparable ever since and Harry had foolishly assumed that he found his place in the world-until Draco's twenty-fifth birthday. That was when everything changed.
Shortly before his twenty-fifth birthday, Draco had taken ill. He was deathly pale and ran a constant fever, his pale skin blistering all over. Originally, Draco brushed it off, claiming that he must have been overworking himself and kept telling Harry to stop making such a fuss.
Harry had been at the end of his wits, especially since he was completing his final Junior Auror training assignments overseas and couldn't come home without forfeiting all the hard work he had put towards his career. If the very best Healers at St Mungo's had not assured him that everything was under control and Draco was fine, he would have been home in record time. But Draco wasn't fine and everything was not okay. In that long month that Harry had spent on assignment in Norway, his entire life had fallen apart without any warning at all.
By the time Harry returned home, Draco was gone. He had taken all his belongings and moved out. Harry had been frantic, afraid that his boyfriend had been kidnapped or was in some sort of trouble. It wasn't like Draco to leave without a word. Even if he had been furious with him for not being there during his illness, he would have at least exploded at Harry, hexing and verbally abusing him for days as he had done so many times before. He would not have left without a note or even telling his friends where he was going. Of course, Harry assumed the worst.
Since he was now an official Auror, no longer in training or a junior Auror, he asked for every favour in the book, even using the weight of his name to find out what had happened to Draco. For weeks, he had every available Auror in England searching high and wide for his missing lover and even a few in France since he knew Draco liked to hide out there at times. But it wasn't enough. When the entire Auror squad had failed to locate even a trace of Draco, he was about to give up or at least move onto using foreign intelligence. But then, he received a letter from Christian Navarro, Draco's mate and fiancé, which caused Harry's entire world to implode.
The letter explained that Draco had taken ill because he possessed dormant Veela genes from both the Malfoy and Black family. Both families, being of ancient and noble houses, made sure to keep the existence of the dormant Veela traits hushed up; yet, since Draco had inherited Veela blood from both of his parents, he was more than a quarter Veela, which manifested itself on his twenty-fifth birthday. Since he wasn't a full blooded Veela, he wouldn't sprout wings or talons, but he was required to find his mate and bond to him or her immediately. Not only for his own protection, but also for the protection of those around him that would be affected by his Veela magic. Once he was mated, his mate would have control over him, so his Veela allure would no longer work on others. Apparently, Christian had been visiting family in St Mungo's and stumbled onto Draco, feeling the connection to the Veela at once. The Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had tested their magic and deemed it compatible, so Christian had whisked Draco off to his family's castle in Spain, paying off the Ministry and the staff of St Mungo's to keep their secret.
When he read Christian's letter, Harry had been devastated and he still kept it in his nightstand. Sometimes, he still believed it was a nightmare that he hadn't woken up from yet. His Draco, whom he adored more than life itself and had been planning to ask for his hand in marriage on Harry's twenty-fifth birthday, which came and went, was now gone-lost forever. Draco was no longer his and was a magical creature. If he hadn't been so distraught by Draco's departure, he would have laughed at the irony of Mr pure-blood poster boy having magical creature blood in his own veins. Sadly, nothing about Draco's disappearance was funny.
It wasn't hard to believe that Draco was part Veela. He certainly was beautiful enough with his long, silky hair that had turned more silver over the years and his chiselled features that had softened since the war. In the last year, Draco had also sprouted up another four inches, making him a good six inches taller than Harry was, now standing at an impressive 6'3. They had joked that Draco's growth had been stunted with the stress of the war. He always expected to be tall since Lucius was so tall, but Harry should have known that something was wrong. It wasn't normal to grow four inches when you were almost 25 years old. Or have your appearance change so drastically.
Oh well, it didn't matter now. He couldn't go back and change the past, and even if he could, it still wouldn't change the fact that no matter how desperately he wished it to be true, he wasn't Draco's true mate, his other half. No, he had only been a placeholder for Christian. And that was what hurt the most.
He sighed heavily and poured himself a glass of water from his nightstand, closing his eyes and letting the cool water refresh his throat and calm his entire body. Once he drained the entire glass, he lay back down and closed his eyes, thinking about Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, his godson, anything else as long as it wasn't Draco.
Somehow, he would get past this and forget about Draco. He just had to.
: : : : :
The next morning Harry roused early. It was barely half past six and he had tossed and turned for the rest of the night. He knew that he should try to go back to sleep, but he was wide awake and a voice inside his head pushed him to get out of bed. He put on his dressing gown and slippers and headed over to his front door, hoping that his morning newspapers had already been delivered. When he opened the door, he gasped at the sight in front of him. Lying on his front stoop, dressed in tattered robes and covered in blood, was his ex-boyfriend.
"Draco!" Harry cried, bending down to shake him gently.
When he didn't respond, Harry's heart starting hammering against his chest and his knees wobbled. "Draco," he tried again, his voice filled with desperation and tears threatening to escape his eyes.
This time when he didn't receive a response, he scooped Draco up in his arms and brought him inside. Draco had always been thin, but Harry was in shock at how light he felt in his arms, barely skin and bones. Quickly, Harry kicked off the cushions and clothing on his messy couch and placed Draco down on it. His long hair, much more silver than he remembered it, was knotted in clumps around his head and tainted with streaks of blood. His pale skin a ghastly shade of grey and his face, his beautiful face, was covered in deep gashes and bruises. Harry's heart clenched at seeing Draco, his first love, in this broken state.
After checking for a pulse and letting out a deep breath he didn't even realise he was holding, he cast a weak Enervate on Draco, praying not to further aggravate his injuries. When it didn't work, he cast the spell a second time, stronger than before, and this time, pained grey eyes flew open and met his.
"Draco," he whispered, not wanting to startle the other man, "what happened?"
Draco opened his once pink lips, now bruised and covered in dried blood, and tried to speak. "I-I," he rasped, moving his lips but struggling to form coherent thoughts.
"It's okay." Harry squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. "You're safe now."
Draco grimaced and attempted to sit up, clearly in a large amount of pain.
"Don't. Just lay back. Where does it hurt?"
Draco bit down on his bottom lip and motioned to his chest. From the looks of it, he had at least a couple of broken ribs.
"No Healers," Draco mouthed, his voice barely a whisper. "Plea-se."
"But, Draco, you're really hurt. I don't know if I can heal all your injuries." Harry frowned. "It's better if I have a professional look at them."
"No!" Draco's voice was more forceful this time and Harry could see the pain it was causing him.
"Okay, no Healers," Harry agreed, absently stroking Draco's hair. "I promise."
Draco nodded in gratitude and closed his eyes, too exhausted to continue the conversation.
"Let me get you a pain potion." Harry removed his hand from Draco's hair and stepped away from the couch. As he turned away from his patient, he heard Draco's shaky voice again, so different from his usual lazy drawl.
"Not...real...mate," Draco stuttered, his voice trembling on every syllable. "Christ-ian li-ar."
"What?"
Harry whipped around to face Draco again, but he was out cold again; the Enervate must have worn off. Harry sighed and shook his head. It was probably for the best, so that Draco wouldn't feel any pain while Harry healed his extensive injuries. He would have to wait to get any real answers.
What did Draco mean? He couldn't possibly be implying that Christian had lied and tricked him into thinking he was his mate. Could he? No, the Ministry had tested their magic compatibility. But Ministry officials could be bought, Harry thought, especially with Christian's money.
No. He wouldn't jump to any wild conclusions until he spoke with Draco. Right now, he needed to tend to his patient, to his friend. Draco needed him. And that was all that mattered. Questions would have to wait until later.
Even so, if it turned out that Christian did this to Draco, beat him halfway to death, then Harry was going to kill the heartless bastard, wizarding nobility or not.
: : : : :
Draco woke up in a comfortable bed, tucked under a heavy down comforter and with a cool washcloth on his forehead. His head was throbbing, but the pain in his chest and ribs had lessened. He ran a hand across his cheeks, realising they were no longer sore and tender from ripe bruises. Even his hair had been freshly washed. What the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was being held captive in Christian’s castle and being beaten and starved. Where was he now?
He sat up slowly and took in his surroundings-a pale blue comforter, faded striped wallpaper, and a dusty wooden nightstand. He was in Harry’s room at Grimmauld Place. As he closed his eyes, images of wandering around London trying to get to Harry, to Grimmauld Place, came back to him. He was so certain that he had failed. Last night had been so cold, much too cold for a fall evening, and he had spent half the night banging on Harry’s front door. It had been so late and Harry was already asleep or not at home. He banged and banged as loud and long as he could, but it was no use. At some point, he must have passed out and the next thing he remembered was waking up on Harry’s couch.
Harry.
His pulse quickened at the thought of Harry, his best friend, his first love. Harry must have healed him. He snorted at the irony of the situation. Somehow, Harry was always his saviour. Turning around gradually, as to avoid aggravating his recently healed wounds, he leaned over and poured himself a glass of water from the nightstand. Harry always kept water by his nightstand for those nights when one of them, if not both of them, woke up with nightmares from the war.
Draco drank the cool water slowly, not wanting to upset his empty stomach. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? The sharp churns in protest told him that it had been much too long.
“Harry,” he called out, finding his throat soothed from the minty water. Smiling to himself, he called out for Harry again, touched that the other man had remembered his preference for water with mint leaves.
“Draco.” Harry walked into the room looking a fright; his dark hair was long and unkempt, sticking up in all directions and looked like a family of squirrels had taken up residence in it. His eyes, just as green as Draco remembered them were blotchy, large bags hanging under them, almost like deep bruises. He wore his old red pyjama bottoms - the ones with the Gold Snitches - which Harry refused to part with even if they were two inches too short for him, and an old tattered Weasley jumper with a large ‘H’ embroidered in the centre. Draco thought he looked ridiculous. Ages ago, when they had still been a couple, he would have complained for hours until Harry gave in and agreed to change. But not today. Today, Draco couldn’t help but smile at the dishevelled man in front of him. He was the most beautiful man that Draco had ever laid eyes on, dreadful hair, hideous clothing and all.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, his face etched in concern, as he stepped closer to Draco and sat down on the bed next to him.
“Like a Hippogriff ran me over, Potter.” Draco smirked at him in hopes that he would stop giving him that pitying look.
“Right.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further. “I brought you a pain potion.”
He handed Draco a small phial and Draco drank the whole thing down without protesting once.
“Wow.” Harry chuckled. “Usually, I have to beg you and bribe you with presents and sexual favours before you agree to drink that.”
Draco shrugged and avoided Harry’s amused gaze. “Things change.”
“I know.” Harry's voice was solemn as he shifted closer to Draco on the bed. He exhaled loudly and chewed his bottom lip.
Fuck, Draco thought, here come the questions.
“Thank you, Harry,” Draco replied, hoping to sway their conversation. “You saved me again.”
“It was nothing.” Harry gripped his hand and squeezed it, his fingers warm and trembling. “You can always come to me, Draco. But what happened?” Harry gave a weak smile. “I want to help you.”
Draco sighed and sat up straighter, wanting to make full eye contact with Harry when he told his woeful tale. “Harry,” he said softly, “you’re not going to like it.”
“Draco-”
“Just promise me you won’t overreact and do anything rash. And then I’ll tell you.”
Harry frowned; his eyebrows were creased deeply, marring his handsome face, but then he nodded anyway. “You have my word.”
“It was Christian.” Draco attempted to keep his voice as steady and emotionless as possible.
“I’ll kill him,” Harry growled.
“Harry,” Draco warned, narrowing his eyes. “You promised and wait until I finish to ask questions.”
“Sorry, continue.”
“Christian is not my mate.”
Draco paused for a moment and eyed Harry warily, waiting for him to interrupt again. Harry furrowed his brow tighter and gritted his teeth, but didn’t comment.
“Somehow, he found out that I was a Veela and bribed the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures to fake our compatibility test. Our magic is not compatible.”
“But why?” Harry asked, no longer able to keep quiet, his knuckles clenched in fists.
“Because whoever his source was didn’t give him the complete story. He thought that I had more Veela blood in me than wizarding blood.” Draco paused and blew his fringe out of his face. He wasn't sure how Harry would react to this part of the story, but he vowed to never lie to him again.
“Christian thought that I could bear children. Full-blooded and powerful half-blooded male Veela are capable of carrying offspring.”
“Oh my god,” Harry said, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly.
“I know. That was my reaction too. The thing is...that he was kind at first, romancing me and being a gentle and careful lover.” Draco averted his eyes from Harry’s at those last words, knowing how painful it must be for him to hear about Draco sleeping with another man. “But once it was obvious to him that I couldn’t get pregnant, he no longer had any use for me. He locked me in a room and starved me, having his men run tests on me...trying to make me fertile. When it became apparent that the experiments didn’t work, he would lose his temper and beat me.” Draco bowed his head in shame. The tears he had been holding back finally escaped.
Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him close, rubbing calming circles down his back.
“It’s okay, Draco,” Harry soothed. “It’s okay, my love.”
They stayed that way for a while, Draco feeling protected and content in Harry’s arms. It was as if he belonged there, as if he had finally come home.
“But Draco,” Harry asked in a gentle voice, once he had finally stopped crying, “why didn’t you fight back? I know you, even without a wand you’re quite the scrappy fighter.”
Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder as he had done so many times in the past, taking in Harry’s sweet, clean smell. “He bonded with me. Used an ancient Master Veela bond rather than a lover’s bond. And a Veela can never hurt his Master...no matter what.”
“Oh my god,” Harry said again as he wrapped his arms even tighter around Draco. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry. But-how did you get away?”
Draco closed his eyes and tried to remember how he escaped from his stone prison and that awful dark castle, but he couldn’t. His mind was completely blank.
“I don’t know.” Draco shrugged. “The last thing I remember is being in London and trying to get to Grimmauld Place. The last couple of days are one big blur.”
Harry kissed him on the forehead. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you’re here now and safe. I’ll never let him hurt you again.”
“I know.”
Harry released him and grabbed him by the wrists. “But Draco--” Harry's voice was so soft and pained that it broke Draco's heart. “We have to find your real mate. You need your real mate.”
Draco started to laugh, tilting his head back and chortling loudly as he hadn’t done in ages. “Oh, Harry--” He shook his head. “You're my mate, silly. Can’t you feel it?”
Harry’s eye widened further and he gaped at Draco like an owl. “Me? Are you sure?” He stuttered on his words and Draco found it positively adorable.
“Of course,” Draco insisted, running a finger up Harry’s arm and watching as gold sparks emitted from his tanned skin. “Did you see that? It’s always been you, Harry. I’ve been drawn to you since I was eleven.”
Without saying a word, Harry grabbed him and kissed him fiercely; he tasted like black tea and stale biscuits, but Draco didn’t care in the least. To Draco, Harry tasted divine. At last, he was reunited with his one true mate.
“I am your mate,” Harry panted, breathless from the kiss. His hair stuck up even further, charged with static electricity as if he had stuck his fingers in one of those Muggle sockets.
“Felt that...did you?” Draco asked smugly, quirking an eyebrow at his lover. “I told you not to doubt me.”
Harry laughed and pulled Draco in for another kiss.
“Well, we have our entire lives for you to prove me wrong, Malfoy.” Harry smirked at him, his green eyes glittering mischievously. “I’m never letting you go again.”
“That better be a promise.”
Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed contently. For the first time in ages, he could breathe easily. Finally, things were back to the way they were supposed to be. For once, he was happy to be a Veela and have a mate.
: : : : :
That night, Draco woke up snugly wrapped in Harry’s arms, head resting on Harry’s firm chest. It was his favourite position in the entire world. They had spent the rest of the day spooning together in bed and reacquainting themselves with each other. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had sex yet since Harry wanted to wait until Draco had his full strength back before shagging. For once, Draco had been content with just stealing kisses from his lover.
He turned his head around and studied Harry’s appearance. For years, he had loved watching Harry sleep. It was a secret pastime of his that he would never admit to unless he was under Veritaserum. Thankfully, Harry hadn’t changed much in the long months since Draco had seen him last. Perhaps he was a tad thinner but not by much. His Auror career always kept him in great shape and ravenous when he came home. The lines in his forehead had become more pronounced and faint stress lines had formed between his brows. It didn’t matter though, Draco thought the lines made Harry look more distinguished, and no matter what, Harry would always be handsome to him.
As he pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s faded scar, a deep pang started in his chest, burning and clawing beneath his skin as if it were propelling him off Harry. Draco bit down on his tongue, sharply, in an attempt to avoid waking Harry. But as the pain deepened, even his stifled whimpers became louder and eventually disturbed Harry.
“Draco, what is it?” Harry sat up straight and rubbed his tired eyes.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Draco tried his best to keep his face and voice neutral.
“No, you’re in pain,” Harry insisted, opening his eyes wider and leaning forwards to feel Draco’s chest.
“It’s nothing just a little chest pain.” Unfortunately, this time he couldn’t keep the discomfort off his face.
Ignoring Draco’s protests, Harry removed Draco’s shirt and hissed at what he saw in front of him, at what Draco already knew was there.
“That mark...it wasn’t there earlier.” Harry motioned to the black cross on his chest that glowed red.
“I know. It’s his mark. It only shows when he calls.” Draco took a deep breath. “He branded me when we bonded, so he could keep track of me-as if I were no better than a prized pet,” Draco sneered.
“Fuck. So he’s Summoning you? Who does he think he is sodding Voldemort?”
Draco scoffed. “He’s not quite that bright, but yes, the mark works in a similar manner.”
Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Is it permanent? Do you think he’ll come for you?”
“I don’t know,” Draco replied honestly. “I know that Veela magic has a certain healing property to it...that a Veela can heal its mate if he or she is gravely injured. I don’t know if the reverse is true.”
Harry grabbed Draco’s wrist, almost mutilating it with his tight grip. “I will not let him hurt you again, Draco. I promise you. How do we this? I know I can heal you.”
Draco closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Harry had his determined face on again, and from years of experience, he knew it was no use to argue with him. “I think you need to cut it out of me, Harry, remove his poison and magic from my body.”
“Okay,” Harry said after a pause, “I can do that. And how do I heal you?”
Draco smiled at him sadly. He loved how confident Harry was about this, how he always thought he could fix everything, but this time it might not be enough. Draco had hoped that he was far enough away from Christian that his hold on Draco would no longer work. It appeared that he might have to go even further.
“Afterwards,” Draco said slowly, “you fuck me, Harry. Fuck my brains out and seal our new real bond. If that doesn’t work, nothing will.”
“It will work.” Harry lifted his chin up and gave him a steely look. “Trust me.”
Before Draco could respond, Harry jumped out of bed like an excited toddler and ran for supplies. He said something about using clean, aseptic technique and went to look for a special knife. Draco didn’t particularly care as long as Harry didn’t use Sectumsempra on him again.
: : : : :
Harry returned with a large knife, a scalpel, and several disinfectants as well as huge roll of gauze. Several years ago, he had found a miniature surgical kit in Regulus’ old room and held onto it for an emergency. He didn’t want to imagine what Regulus had used it for, but today it was a lifesaver. At least he was glad to have thoroughly disinfected it in the past.
Draco had fallen asleep again, his pale chest rising slowly in even breaths. It was such a shame to wake him, since Draco looked so peaceful. It appeared that the pain from that bastard Christian’s call had finally stopped. Still, they needed to get this over with before Draco felt any more pain, and more importantly, before Christian came looking for him. On the one hand, Harry wanted Christian to come here and try to take Draco back, so Harry could tear the monster limb-by-limb. On the other hand, he had promised Draco that he wouldn’t overreact and go after Christian.
Deep down, he knew that Draco was right, but the thought of what that vermin did to his Draco made Harry want to kill the prick without a second thought. Revenge could wait for later though. He could easily send some of his Auror spies to take care of Christian without it ever being traced back to him. Draco had never said anything about someone else murdering Christian, but there would be plenty of time to plan. Right now, he had to focus on helping Draco. He needed to release him from Christian's control.
“Draco,” Harry said in a soft voice, shaking his shoulders, “wake up. We need to get this done as soon as possible.”
Soft grey eyes met his and Harry was overwhelmed by the amount of love and emotion reflected in them, so opposite of the listless eyes he had seen in his nightmare. He smiled at Draco, who rubbed his eyes and yawned. Harry couldn’t believe his good fortune that somehow after all the pain he had suffered in his life, all the hardships he had been forced to endure, he had still been given the most precious gift of all-the chance to be the most beautiful wizard's in the world’s mate. At least in Harry's eyes.
“Mmm...okay, Harry. I’m ready,” Draco mumbled, still yawning.
Harry smiled again and Vanished the covers off their bed. He was quite fond of that duvet and didn’t want to get blood all over it.
“I’m sorry that this is going to hurt, love.” Harry bent over and kissed Draco on the forehead. “But it’s going to hurt me more than you.”
Draco had explained that it was probably safer if he didn’t use magic during the procedure, so instead Harry poured some hydrogen peroxide over Draco’s black mark, hoping that it would be enough to keep the wound sterile.
“Just do it.” Draco croaked, his eyes firmly shut and arms gripping onto the bed’s wooden headboard.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, closing his eyes for a second and steadying his nerves. He had to this for Draco. Please let it work.
Gripping the scalpel in his right hand, he brought it down to Draco’s chest, which looked even paler than it had this afternoon. The chest pains must have taken more out of him than he admitted. With a deep breath, he pressed the blade firmly against Draco’s chest, making sure to cut deep enough to remove the entire top layers of Draco’s skin without cutting into muscle and bone. He gasped at the amount of blood that flowed out of the wound, trickling down his lover’s skin like a river of tears. Draco was being so brave, holding completely still and only whimpering lightly through gritted teeth. Harry figured that he was biting down on his tongue, probably through it, to cope with the pain, and Harry would have to heal it later. Hopefully, he wouldn’t split it in two because Harry wasn’t sure how to mend a halved tongue.
Harry kept cutting, as carefully as possible, and outlined the revolting black cross as best as he could. He knew that Draco was vain and if this worked, he didn’t want to hear him complain about scarring for the rest of their lives the way he always did about his Sectumsempra scars. As he got closer to edge of the cross, the mark hanging on only by a small sliver of skin, Harry started tearing it and Draco jerked upwards, no longer being able to keep his cool or his screams in.
“It’s okay, love.” He stopped for a moment and ran his left hand through Draco’s hair. “I’m almost finished. Just another minute or two. You’re being so brave. So very brave.”
Draco groaned and let out a stream of profanities that made Harry blush, but then he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and declared that he was ready for Harry to continue. With his hands trembling, Harry finished cutting and removed the hideous mark. Draco’s skin was so raw underneath, but somehow it wasn’t bleeding as profusely as it should have been. Perhaps it was a Veela thing. He cleaned the wound carefully, ignoring Draco’s screams of protest and bloody murder, and then finally bandaged it tightly.
“All done.” He wiped sweat from his forehead and let out a deep breath. The procedure had taken a lot longer than he had originally thought, but so far everything looked good. The wound was still bleeding, which Harry could see through the bandage, but only lightly. If they started right away, Harry should have enough time to make love to Draco and heal him before he started losing a dangerous amount of blood.
“Finally.” Draco groaned as he tried to sit up and lean against the headboard.
“No, just lay back. I’ll take care of you, tonight. Please.”
Draco scowled and looked as if he were going to complain, but then he closed his eyes and laid back. His face was pale again and Harry knew that he must be in an enormous amount of pain to give in so readily. Harry feathered a kiss him on his chapped lips and then propped a pillow underneath his back, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.
“Do you want me to get you a pain potion?” Harry asked, trying to mask the concern on his face.
“No, nothing magical. Just to be safe.”
“Fine.” Harry sighed and pulled off his shirt and trousers in record time. He had never been so desperate to get sex over with before. His last shag had been a one-night stand the night he received Christian’s letter. It had been a long fucking time for him, so he was more than ready to do this.
Harry propped himself up over Draco and bent down for a deep kiss. Kissing Draco had always been his favourite thing to do in the world, and now that Draco had come into his Veela inheritance, kissing Draco made his entire body tremble and a low hum purr in his ears.
“I love you.” Harry said, “so much.”
“I love you, too,” Draco replied in between kisses, “so fucking much, Potter.”
Harry laughed and shook his head at Draco’s snide comment. Back in school, he despised Draco’s snark, but now he adored it. He started trailing kisses down Draco’s chest, avoiding the bandage and working his way down to his groin.
“Mmmm--” Draco moaned in appreciation, causing a tightness in Harry’s own body. He had missed this so much and the mere act of undressing his gorgeous lover had his prick completely hard and ready to go.
“Harry--” Draco panted as Harry continued to tease him with him kisses and now started to massage his balls. “So good. But just do it. Just fuck me.”
Harry scoffed but obliged his lover anyway. Tonight was about Draco. If Draco wanted a quick shag, then that’s what he would get. He needed to be inside Draco, to claim him as his own, and cleanse him of that bastard Christian. He cast a wandless stretching charm and worked a finger into Draco’s arse, first slowly and then gradually quickening the pace. Once he was sure Draco was enjoying himself, he added a second and then a third finger, his own cock throbbing as he watched Draco’s head tilt back, his face flushing in pleasure.
“Harry. Please.” Draco was whinging now, writhing beneath him desperately.
“Alright, but I’m not going to last.”
“I don’t bloody care, Potter. Just get on with it before I bleed to death.”
Harry snorted and positioned himself at Draco’s entrance. Fuck, he had dreamed of this moment for so long. So many times over the past few months, but this wasn’t a dream. This time, it was real. He pushed himself into Draco’s tight hole and groaned at the contact. It was so tight and hot, even tighter than he had remembered it.
“Draco-” he panted, needing all his self-restraint to stop himself from moving. Before he moved, he needed to know that Draco wasn’t in pain.
“Move--” Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and jerked his hips upwards. “Now.”
So he did.
Harry didn’t need to be asked twice as he thrust in and out of Draco, each time deeper than the last. He arched Draco’s body as best as he could, hoping to reach Draco’s prostate more easily. When he heard Draco cry out, he knew that he had hit the spot, so he kept his hips in the same exact angle and tried for it again-this time pushing harder than he had before. When he heard Draco cry out again, this time in a high-pitched trill, his whole body began to tremble. Fucking Draco had always been amazing; he was pliable, tight, and quite vocal as a lover, but this time something was different. Harry’s skin was on fire, every nerve humming along with Draco’s trill; his beautiful song grew louder and fiercer with every thrust that Harry made, ramming deeper and deeper into his gorgeous lover’s arse, becoming captivated by his mellifluous song. In all his life, he had never heard such a beautiful melody, and each note pushed him closer and closer to the edge.
Usually, he slowed down and offered Draco some kisses and nibbles throughout their shag, so it would feel more like love making than a quick fuck. Today, it was impossible. He couldn’t stop thrusting faster and harder into Draco if his life depended on it. His heart pounded, hammering so fiercely against his ribs that he was afraid it would explode. And Draco, Merlin’s beard, Draco was writhing and moaning so wantonly beneath him-his pale skin flushing and glowing almost ethereally under the faint light. Without a doubt, he was the most beautiful creature that Harry had ever laid eyes on, and Harry couldn’t believe that he was given the opportunity to love him and be loved in return.
With his heart bursting with unyielding adoration for the Veela beneath him, and his entire body vibrating, perfectly in tune with Draco’s trill, Harry came-screaming out incoherent declarations of love, louder and harder than he had ever come in his entire life.
“Bloody hell,” he cried, as he pulled out of Draco and plopped down onto the bed besides him. “That was, you were...”
“Brilliant?” Draco offered helpfully, moving over to lay his head on Harry’s chest.
“I was going to go for mind-blowing but yeah. Will that always happen now?”
Draco blushed and looked up at the ceiling. “No, that’s the first time it’s happened. It’s my song, our song. I don’t know...it just poured out of me. I’ve never done that before. And I’m not sure if it’ll happen again.”
“Well, whatever it was...it was amazing. I’m the luckiest bloke in the world.”
He turned Draco’s head up to face him and kissed him.
Draco laughed, that deep chuckle of his that Harry adored. “Fuck, Potter, stop being such a Hufflepuff. We don’t even know if it worked yet.”
“Right.” Harry chewed his bottom lip. “Let me check.”
With trembling hands, he unwrapped Draco’s bandage, praying that their love was enough, for another miracle. He traced his fingers over where Draco’s wound had been just minutes earlier and exhaled sharply at what he saw-the black cross was gone, no trace of it at all. The wound had healed and in its place was fresh, healthy skin. The biggest shock, however, was that right above where that awful cross had been, there was now a small, silver mark in the shape of a lightning bolt.
“I-I” Harry blinked incredulously, his voice catching in the back of his throat.
“Did it work?” Draco pushed Harry’s hand away.
“I-I” Harry stammered again.
“For god’s sake, Potter, just step aside and I’ll check for myself. You sound like a blithering idiot.”
Draco leaped off the bed, graceful as ever, and ran over to the full-length mirror that Draco had insisted Harry install in his room once they became a couple.
“Salazar’s balls, Potter!” Draco shook his head and traced the lightning bolt mark. “Why must you always scar me?”
“I-I...sorry.” Harry shrugged and looked down at the floor.
“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” Harry asked in a small voice after gathering his thoughts.
Draco snorted and walked back over to the bed, resting his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
“Yes, I do. You are the most idiotic, stubborn, and reckless man I have ever met.”
“Oh.”
“But you’re my idiot, Potter. And you saved me again.” He threw his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him into a deep kiss.
“I love you, you twat. And now you’re really stuck with me for life.”
Harry laughed and returned his kiss, a huge besotted grin on his face. He would have no problem spending the rest of his days just like this, wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful creature in the entire world. He was a lucky man indeed.
~ Fin
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading. I know that there was a slew of Veela cliches in this fic, but I figured that since this was a Valentine's Day fest I would embrace them and come on it's Veela fic. Oh, the sap. Death by sap. I know. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it anyway.
[1] The quote at the beginning of the story comes from the song, "Without You", from the Musical Rent. It was written by Jonathon D Larson and doesn't belong to me.
Author: icicle33
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~7500
Warnings: creature!fic (if that wasn't already clear), a fair amount of blood for the extremely squeamish, male/male sex, mentions of past violence, and so much fluff it will hurt your teeth
Summary: Harry is devastated when Draco comes into his Veela inheritance and leaves him for his mate Christian. Harry assumes that Draco has found his happily ever after with his mate. Until one morning, he finds an unconscious Draco Malfoy on his front doorstep.
Author's note: This fic was written for the do-me-veela Valentine's Day fest . The prompt was Draco has been tricked to mate with someone who is not his real mate. This person uses and abuses him. A special thank you to Alyssa for her last minute beta job. And for anyone that might have read this at the fest, it was originally listed under the title of Fairy Tales and Castles, but I decided I liked this title better. I apologize for any confusion.
Enjoy.
~Without You~
Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows.
Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play.
The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you.
The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you.
~JDL [1]
: : : : :
He was walking down a long, empty corridor, his feet bare but warm against the lush, red velvet carpet that adorned the long corridor, contrasting sharply with the grey stone walls. A faint trill hummed against his ears, soothing him and calling out to him. He ran his hands against the wall, cool beneath his fingertips, walking closer and closer to the faint light at the end of the twisted hallway and towards the beautiful song. As he reached the end of the curved passageway, his fingers numb, he came across a green flame torch. He pulled the torch off the wall and continued walking down the twisted corridor, diverging left and following a set of winding stone stairs that went on for what felt like ages. A cold shudder ran up his body through his bare feet. Still, he didn't turn back and the trill grew louder; it was as if an invisible force was propelling him forwards, not allowing him to turn around until he reached the bottom of the stairs and a menacing, wrought iron door.
The majestic song had stopped, but somehow he knew that it was coming from behind that door. He pressed down on the large door with his left hand, watching it glow bright green and open. The room was dark, almost pitch black and made entirely of slate with a leaky ceiling. The only source of warmth came from a fire that burnt in the corner, the flames grey. And it was cold, so cold that his entire body trembled. For a moment, he thought the room was vacant until he shone his torch on a crumpled figure in the corner. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen-pale, alabaster skin, long, blond hair so white that it gleamed silver in the firelight, and large, delicate feathers, diverging into two magnificent white wings, but one was twisted and broken. He gasped and reached out to touch the stunning wings, softer than silk and humming between his fingers. This beautiful creature, a fallen angel, was drenched in silver blood. How had he not noticed? Turning him over as carefully as possible, a sense of dread filled his gut. A twisted déjà vu flashed through his mind. When pained grey eyes met his, he screamed dropping the torch and accidentally lighting the already damaged wings on fire.
Draco? No. No. It couldn't be. He held the unconscious creature in his arms and watched as the roaring green flames spread, encroaching the entire room around them.
: : : : :
Harry woke drenched in sweat again, his entire body trembling and a deep pang in his chest. This was the third time this week that he had these nightmares and each time they got worse. Today was the first time he had seen the creature's face though; the first time he had stroked the creature's soft, silvery locks and whispered small comforts in his ear, as the flames approached them. A broken Veela.
It was Draco. His stomach knotted at the thought of Draco's crumpled body and lifeless eyes. It was only a dream, a nightmare. That was all. Draco was far away and happy, living the life with his mate and life partner, Christian. Harry was the furthest concern from his mind as he should be. He didn't want to stand in the way of Draco's happiness. And Harry needed to get over this, to stop obsessing over a man he could no longer have, an ex-lover that would never return.
: : : : :
It had been six months since he had seen Draco. Six months since Draco had left and broken his heart.
After the war, Harry and Draco made their peace. It seemed silly to continue their schoolboy rivalry after all the horrors they had witnessed and saving each other's lives. Draco had changed in the time he spent unwillingly in Voldemort's service, matured into a decent bloke. Gone was the loud-mouthed, attention seeking schoolboy Harry had once despised, and in his place was a quiet, softer, and fiercely intelligent version of the boy that Harry had grown to love.
Draco was one of the few people, who didn't cater to him after the war, so Harry found himself in the other boy's presence often, especially since Hermione and Ron had left England to promote house-elf rights across the world. Harry thought that he would never survive without his best friends, his family, but since they had just gotten married, he wanted to give the new couple some space, some much deserved happiness without him tagging along as a miserable third wheel.
Thank Merlin for Draco. He made those first months without Ron and Hermione tolerable. And after only a few short months of friendship, Harry had fallen head over heels for Draco, who had somehow reciprocated his feelings. They had been inseparable ever since and Harry had foolishly assumed that he found his place in the world-until Draco's twenty-fifth birthday. That was when everything changed.
Shortly before his twenty-fifth birthday, Draco had taken ill. He was deathly pale and ran a constant fever, his pale skin blistering all over. Originally, Draco brushed it off, claiming that he must have been overworking himself and kept telling Harry to stop making such a fuss.
Harry had been at the end of his wits, especially since he was completing his final Junior Auror training assignments overseas and couldn't come home without forfeiting all the hard work he had put towards his career. If the very best Healers at St Mungo's had not assured him that everything was under control and Draco was fine, he would have been home in record time. But Draco wasn't fine and everything was not okay. In that long month that Harry had spent on assignment in Norway, his entire life had fallen apart without any warning at all.
By the time Harry returned home, Draco was gone. He had taken all his belongings and moved out. Harry had been frantic, afraid that his boyfriend had been kidnapped or was in some sort of trouble. It wasn't like Draco to leave without a word. Even if he had been furious with him for not being there during his illness, he would have at least exploded at Harry, hexing and verbally abusing him for days as he had done so many times before. He would not have left without a note or even telling his friends where he was going. Of course, Harry assumed the worst.
Since he was now an official Auror, no longer in training or a junior Auror, he asked for every favour in the book, even using the weight of his name to find out what had happened to Draco. For weeks, he had every available Auror in England searching high and wide for his missing lover and even a few in France since he knew Draco liked to hide out there at times. But it wasn't enough. When the entire Auror squad had failed to locate even a trace of Draco, he was about to give up or at least move onto using foreign intelligence. But then, he received a letter from Christian Navarro, Draco's mate and fiancé, which caused Harry's entire world to implode.
The letter explained that Draco had taken ill because he possessed dormant Veela genes from both the Malfoy and Black family. Both families, being of ancient and noble houses, made sure to keep the existence of the dormant Veela traits hushed up; yet, since Draco had inherited Veela blood from both of his parents, he was more than a quarter Veela, which manifested itself on his twenty-fifth birthday. Since he wasn't a full blooded Veela, he wouldn't sprout wings or talons, but he was required to find his mate and bond to him or her immediately. Not only for his own protection, but also for the protection of those around him that would be affected by his Veela magic. Once he was mated, his mate would have control over him, so his Veela allure would no longer work on others. Apparently, Christian had been visiting family in St Mungo's and stumbled onto Draco, feeling the connection to the Veela at once. The Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had tested their magic and deemed it compatible, so Christian had whisked Draco off to his family's castle in Spain, paying off the Ministry and the staff of St Mungo's to keep their secret.
When he read Christian's letter, Harry had been devastated and he still kept it in his nightstand. Sometimes, he still believed it was a nightmare that he hadn't woken up from yet. His Draco, whom he adored more than life itself and had been planning to ask for his hand in marriage on Harry's twenty-fifth birthday, which came and went, was now gone-lost forever. Draco was no longer his and was a magical creature. If he hadn't been so distraught by Draco's departure, he would have laughed at the irony of Mr pure-blood poster boy having magical creature blood in his own veins. Sadly, nothing about Draco's disappearance was funny.
It wasn't hard to believe that Draco was part Veela. He certainly was beautiful enough with his long, silky hair that had turned more silver over the years and his chiselled features that had softened since the war. In the last year, Draco had also sprouted up another four inches, making him a good six inches taller than Harry was, now standing at an impressive 6'3. They had joked that Draco's growth had been stunted with the stress of the war. He always expected to be tall since Lucius was so tall, but Harry should have known that something was wrong. It wasn't normal to grow four inches when you were almost 25 years old. Or have your appearance change so drastically.
Oh well, it didn't matter now. He couldn't go back and change the past, and even if he could, it still wouldn't change the fact that no matter how desperately he wished it to be true, he wasn't Draco's true mate, his other half. No, he had only been a placeholder for Christian. And that was what hurt the most.
He sighed heavily and poured himself a glass of water from his nightstand, closing his eyes and letting the cool water refresh his throat and calm his entire body. Once he drained the entire glass, he lay back down and closed his eyes, thinking about Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, his godson, anything else as long as it wasn't Draco.
Somehow, he would get past this and forget about Draco. He just had to.
: : : : :
The next morning Harry roused early. It was barely half past six and he had tossed and turned for the rest of the night. He knew that he should try to go back to sleep, but he was wide awake and a voice inside his head pushed him to get out of bed. He put on his dressing gown and slippers and headed over to his front door, hoping that his morning newspapers had already been delivered. When he opened the door, he gasped at the sight in front of him. Lying on his front stoop, dressed in tattered robes and covered in blood, was his ex-boyfriend.
"Draco!" Harry cried, bending down to shake him gently.
When he didn't respond, Harry's heart starting hammering against his chest and his knees wobbled. "Draco," he tried again, his voice filled with desperation and tears threatening to escape his eyes.
This time when he didn't receive a response, he scooped Draco up in his arms and brought him inside. Draco had always been thin, but Harry was in shock at how light he felt in his arms, barely skin and bones. Quickly, Harry kicked off the cushions and clothing on his messy couch and placed Draco down on it. His long hair, much more silver than he remembered it, was knotted in clumps around his head and tainted with streaks of blood. His pale skin a ghastly shade of grey and his face, his beautiful face, was covered in deep gashes and bruises. Harry's heart clenched at seeing Draco, his first love, in this broken state.
After checking for a pulse and letting out a deep breath he didn't even realise he was holding, he cast a weak Enervate on Draco, praying not to further aggravate his injuries. When it didn't work, he cast the spell a second time, stronger than before, and this time, pained grey eyes flew open and met his.
"Draco," he whispered, not wanting to startle the other man, "what happened?"
Draco opened his once pink lips, now bruised and covered in dried blood, and tried to speak. "I-I," he rasped, moving his lips but struggling to form coherent thoughts.
"It's okay." Harry squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. "You're safe now."
Draco grimaced and attempted to sit up, clearly in a large amount of pain.
"Don't. Just lay back. Where does it hurt?"
Draco bit down on his bottom lip and motioned to his chest. From the looks of it, he had at least a couple of broken ribs.
"No Healers," Draco mouthed, his voice barely a whisper. "Plea-se."
"But, Draco, you're really hurt. I don't know if I can heal all your injuries." Harry frowned. "It's better if I have a professional look at them."
"No!" Draco's voice was more forceful this time and Harry could see the pain it was causing him.
"Okay, no Healers," Harry agreed, absently stroking Draco's hair. "I promise."
Draco nodded in gratitude and closed his eyes, too exhausted to continue the conversation.
"Let me get you a pain potion." Harry removed his hand from Draco's hair and stepped away from the couch. As he turned away from his patient, he heard Draco's shaky voice again, so different from his usual lazy drawl.
"Not...real...mate," Draco stuttered, his voice trembling on every syllable. "Christ-ian li-ar."
"What?"
Harry whipped around to face Draco again, but he was out cold again; the Enervate must have worn off. Harry sighed and shook his head. It was probably for the best, so that Draco wouldn't feel any pain while Harry healed his extensive injuries. He would have to wait to get any real answers.
What did Draco mean? He couldn't possibly be implying that Christian had lied and tricked him into thinking he was his mate. Could he? No, the Ministry had tested their magic compatibility. But Ministry officials could be bought, Harry thought, especially with Christian's money.
No. He wouldn't jump to any wild conclusions until he spoke with Draco. Right now, he needed to tend to his patient, to his friend. Draco needed him. And that was all that mattered. Questions would have to wait until later.
Even so, if it turned out that Christian did this to Draco, beat him halfway to death, then Harry was going to kill the heartless bastard, wizarding nobility or not.
: : : : :
Draco woke up in a comfortable bed, tucked under a heavy down comforter and with a cool washcloth on his forehead. His head was throbbing, but the pain in his chest and ribs had lessened. He ran a hand across his cheeks, realising they were no longer sore and tender from ripe bruises. Even his hair had been freshly washed. What the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was being held captive in Christian’s castle and being beaten and starved. Where was he now?
He sat up slowly and took in his surroundings-a pale blue comforter, faded striped wallpaper, and a dusty wooden nightstand. He was in Harry’s room at Grimmauld Place. As he closed his eyes, images of wandering around London trying to get to Harry, to Grimmauld Place, came back to him. He was so certain that he had failed. Last night had been so cold, much too cold for a fall evening, and he had spent half the night banging on Harry’s front door. It had been so late and Harry was already asleep or not at home. He banged and banged as loud and long as he could, but it was no use. At some point, he must have passed out and the next thing he remembered was waking up on Harry’s couch.
Harry.
His pulse quickened at the thought of Harry, his best friend, his first love. Harry must have healed him. He snorted at the irony of the situation. Somehow, Harry was always his saviour. Turning around gradually, as to avoid aggravating his recently healed wounds, he leaned over and poured himself a glass of water from the nightstand. Harry always kept water by his nightstand for those nights when one of them, if not both of them, woke up with nightmares from the war.
Draco drank the cool water slowly, not wanting to upset his empty stomach. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? The sharp churns in protest told him that it had been much too long.
“Harry,” he called out, finding his throat soothed from the minty water. Smiling to himself, he called out for Harry again, touched that the other man had remembered his preference for water with mint leaves.
“Draco.” Harry walked into the room looking a fright; his dark hair was long and unkempt, sticking up in all directions and looked like a family of squirrels had taken up residence in it. His eyes, just as green as Draco remembered them were blotchy, large bags hanging under them, almost like deep bruises. He wore his old red pyjama bottoms - the ones with the Gold Snitches - which Harry refused to part with even if they were two inches too short for him, and an old tattered Weasley jumper with a large ‘H’ embroidered in the centre. Draco thought he looked ridiculous. Ages ago, when they had still been a couple, he would have complained for hours until Harry gave in and agreed to change. But not today. Today, Draco couldn’t help but smile at the dishevelled man in front of him. He was the most beautiful man that Draco had ever laid eyes on, dreadful hair, hideous clothing and all.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, his face etched in concern, as he stepped closer to Draco and sat down on the bed next to him.
“Like a Hippogriff ran me over, Potter.” Draco smirked at him in hopes that he would stop giving him that pitying look.
“Right.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further. “I brought you a pain potion.”
He handed Draco a small phial and Draco drank the whole thing down without protesting once.
“Wow.” Harry chuckled. “Usually, I have to beg you and bribe you with presents and sexual favours before you agree to drink that.”
Draco shrugged and avoided Harry’s amused gaze. “Things change.”
“I know.” Harry's voice was solemn as he shifted closer to Draco on the bed. He exhaled loudly and chewed his bottom lip.
Fuck, Draco thought, here come the questions.
“Thank you, Harry,” Draco replied, hoping to sway their conversation. “You saved me again.”
“It was nothing.” Harry gripped his hand and squeezed it, his fingers warm and trembling. “You can always come to me, Draco. But what happened?” Harry gave a weak smile. “I want to help you.”
Draco sighed and sat up straighter, wanting to make full eye contact with Harry when he told his woeful tale. “Harry,” he said softly, “you’re not going to like it.”
“Draco-”
“Just promise me you won’t overreact and do anything rash. And then I’ll tell you.”
Harry frowned; his eyebrows were creased deeply, marring his handsome face, but then he nodded anyway. “You have my word.”
“It was Christian.” Draco attempted to keep his voice as steady and emotionless as possible.
“I’ll kill him,” Harry growled.
“Harry,” Draco warned, narrowing his eyes. “You promised and wait until I finish to ask questions.”
“Sorry, continue.”
“Christian is not my mate.”
Draco paused for a moment and eyed Harry warily, waiting for him to interrupt again. Harry furrowed his brow tighter and gritted his teeth, but didn’t comment.
“Somehow, he found out that I was a Veela and bribed the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures to fake our compatibility test. Our magic is not compatible.”
“But why?” Harry asked, no longer able to keep quiet, his knuckles clenched in fists.
“Because whoever his source was didn’t give him the complete story. He thought that I had more Veela blood in me than wizarding blood.” Draco paused and blew his fringe out of his face. He wasn't sure how Harry would react to this part of the story, but he vowed to never lie to him again.
“Christian thought that I could bear children. Full-blooded and powerful half-blooded male Veela are capable of carrying offspring.”
“Oh my god,” Harry said, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly.
“I know. That was my reaction too. The thing is...that he was kind at first, romancing me and being a gentle and careful lover.” Draco averted his eyes from Harry’s at those last words, knowing how painful it must be for him to hear about Draco sleeping with another man. “But once it was obvious to him that I couldn’t get pregnant, he no longer had any use for me. He locked me in a room and starved me, having his men run tests on me...trying to make me fertile. When it became apparent that the experiments didn’t work, he would lose his temper and beat me.” Draco bowed his head in shame. The tears he had been holding back finally escaped.
Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him close, rubbing calming circles down his back.
“It’s okay, Draco,” Harry soothed. “It’s okay, my love.”
They stayed that way for a while, Draco feeling protected and content in Harry’s arms. It was as if he belonged there, as if he had finally come home.
“But Draco,” Harry asked in a gentle voice, once he had finally stopped crying, “why didn’t you fight back? I know you, even without a wand you’re quite the scrappy fighter.”
Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder as he had done so many times in the past, taking in Harry’s sweet, clean smell. “He bonded with me. Used an ancient Master Veela bond rather than a lover’s bond. And a Veela can never hurt his Master...no matter what.”
“Oh my god,” Harry said again as he wrapped his arms even tighter around Draco. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry. But-how did you get away?”
Draco closed his eyes and tried to remember how he escaped from his stone prison and that awful dark castle, but he couldn’t. His mind was completely blank.
“I don’t know.” Draco shrugged. “The last thing I remember is being in London and trying to get to Grimmauld Place. The last couple of days are one big blur.”
Harry kissed him on the forehead. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you’re here now and safe. I’ll never let him hurt you again.”
“I know.”
Harry released him and grabbed him by the wrists. “But Draco--” Harry's voice was so soft and pained that it broke Draco's heart. “We have to find your real mate. You need your real mate.”
Draco started to laugh, tilting his head back and chortling loudly as he hadn’t done in ages. “Oh, Harry--” He shook his head. “You're my mate, silly. Can’t you feel it?”
Harry’s eye widened further and he gaped at Draco like an owl. “Me? Are you sure?” He stuttered on his words and Draco found it positively adorable.
“Of course,” Draco insisted, running a finger up Harry’s arm and watching as gold sparks emitted from his tanned skin. “Did you see that? It’s always been you, Harry. I’ve been drawn to you since I was eleven.”
Without saying a word, Harry grabbed him and kissed him fiercely; he tasted like black tea and stale biscuits, but Draco didn’t care in the least. To Draco, Harry tasted divine. At last, he was reunited with his one true mate.
“I am your mate,” Harry panted, breathless from the kiss. His hair stuck up even further, charged with static electricity as if he had stuck his fingers in one of those Muggle sockets.
“Felt that...did you?” Draco asked smugly, quirking an eyebrow at his lover. “I told you not to doubt me.”
Harry laughed and pulled Draco in for another kiss.
“Well, we have our entire lives for you to prove me wrong, Malfoy.” Harry smirked at him, his green eyes glittering mischievously. “I’m never letting you go again.”
“That better be a promise.”
Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed contently. For the first time in ages, he could breathe easily. Finally, things were back to the way they were supposed to be. For once, he was happy to be a Veela and have a mate.
: : : : :
That night, Draco woke up snugly wrapped in Harry’s arms, head resting on Harry’s firm chest. It was his favourite position in the entire world. They had spent the rest of the day spooning together in bed and reacquainting themselves with each other. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had sex yet since Harry wanted to wait until Draco had his full strength back before shagging. For once, Draco had been content with just stealing kisses from his lover.
He turned his head around and studied Harry’s appearance. For years, he had loved watching Harry sleep. It was a secret pastime of his that he would never admit to unless he was under Veritaserum. Thankfully, Harry hadn’t changed much in the long months since Draco had seen him last. Perhaps he was a tad thinner but not by much. His Auror career always kept him in great shape and ravenous when he came home. The lines in his forehead had become more pronounced and faint stress lines had formed between his brows. It didn’t matter though, Draco thought the lines made Harry look more distinguished, and no matter what, Harry would always be handsome to him.
As he pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s faded scar, a deep pang started in his chest, burning and clawing beneath his skin as if it were propelling him off Harry. Draco bit down on his tongue, sharply, in an attempt to avoid waking Harry. But as the pain deepened, even his stifled whimpers became louder and eventually disturbed Harry.
“Draco, what is it?” Harry sat up straight and rubbed his tired eyes.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Draco tried his best to keep his face and voice neutral.
“No, you’re in pain,” Harry insisted, opening his eyes wider and leaning forwards to feel Draco’s chest.
“It’s nothing just a little chest pain.” Unfortunately, this time he couldn’t keep the discomfort off his face.
Ignoring Draco’s protests, Harry removed Draco’s shirt and hissed at what he saw in front of him, at what Draco already knew was there.
“That mark...it wasn’t there earlier.” Harry motioned to the black cross on his chest that glowed red.
“I know. It’s his mark. It only shows when he calls.” Draco took a deep breath. “He branded me when we bonded, so he could keep track of me-as if I were no better than a prized pet,” Draco sneered.
“Fuck. So he’s Summoning you? Who does he think he is sodding Voldemort?”
Draco scoffed. “He’s not quite that bright, but yes, the mark works in a similar manner.”
Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Is it permanent? Do you think he’ll come for you?”
“I don’t know,” Draco replied honestly. “I know that Veela magic has a certain healing property to it...that a Veela can heal its mate if he or she is gravely injured. I don’t know if the reverse is true.”
Harry grabbed Draco’s wrist, almost mutilating it with his tight grip. “I will not let him hurt you again, Draco. I promise you. How do we this? I know I can heal you.”
Draco closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Harry had his determined face on again, and from years of experience, he knew it was no use to argue with him. “I think you need to cut it out of me, Harry, remove his poison and magic from my body.”
“Okay,” Harry said after a pause, “I can do that. And how do I heal you?”
Draco smiled at him sadly. He loved how confident Harry was about this, how he always thought he could fix everything, but this time it might not be enough. Draco had hoped that he was far enough away from Christian that his hold on Draco would no longer work. It appeared that he might have to go even further.
“Afterwards,” Draco said slowly, “you fuck me, Harry. Fuck my brains out and seal our new real bond. If that doesn’t work, nothing will.”
“It will work.” Harry lifted his chin up and gave him a steely look. “Trust me.”
Before Draco could respond, Harry jumped out of bed like an excited toddler and ran for supplies. He said something about using clean, aseptic technique and went to look for a special knife. Draco didn’t particularly care as long as Harry didn’t use Sectumsempra on him again.
: : : : :
Harry returned with a large knife, a scalpel, and several disinfectants as well as huge roll of gauze. Several years ago, he had found a miniature surgical kit in Regulus’ old room and held onto it for an emergency. He didn’t want to imagine what Regulus had used it for, but today it was a lifesaver. At least he was glad to have thoroughly disinfected it in the past.
Draco had fallen asleep again, his pale chest rising slowly in even breaths. It was such a shame to wake him, since Draco looked so peaceful. It appeared that the pain from that bastard Christian’s call had finally stopped. Still, they needed to get this over with before Draco felt any more pain, and more importantly, before Christian came looking for him. On the one hand, Harry wanted Christian to come here and try to take Draco back, so Harry could tear the monster limb-by-limb. On the other hand, he had promised Draco that he wouldn’t overreact and go after Christian.
Deep down, he knew that Draco was right, but the thought of what that vermin did to his Draco made Harry want to kill the prick without a second thought. Revenge could wait for later though. He could easily send some of his Auror spies to take care of Christian without it ever being traced back to him. Draco had never said anything about someone else murdering Christian, but there would be plenty of time to plan. Right now, he had to focus on helping Draco. He needed to release him from Christian's control.
“Draco,” Harry said in a soft voice, shaking his shoulders, “wake up. We need to get this done as soon as possible.”
Soft grey eyes met his and Harry was overwhelmed by the amount of love and emotion reflected in them, so opposite of the listless eyes he had seen in his nightmare. He smiled at Draco, who rubbed his eyes and yawned. Harry couldn’t believe his good fortune that somehow after all the pain he had suffered in his life, all the hardships he had been forced to endure, he had still been given the most precious gift of all-the chance to be the most beautiful wizard's in the world’s mate. At least in Harry's eyes.
“Mmm...okay, Harry. I’m ready,” Draco mumbled, still yawning.
Harry smiled again and Vanished the covers off their bed. He was quite fond of that duvet and didn’t want to get blood all over it.
“I’m sorry that this is going to hurt, love.” Harry bent over and kissed Draco on the forehead. “But it’s going to hurt me more than you.”
Draco had explained that it was probably safer if he didn’t use magic during the procedure, so instead Harry poured some hydrogen peroxide over Draco’s black mark, hoping that it would be enough to keep the wound sterile.
“Just do it.” Draco croaked, his eyes firmly shut and arms gripping onto the bed’s wooden headboard.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, closing his eyes for a second and steadying his nerves. He had to this for Draco. Please let it work.
Gripping the scalpel in his right hand, he brought it down to Draco’s chest, which looked even paler than it had this afternoon. The chest pains must have taken more out of him than he admitted. With a deep breath, he pressed the blade firmly against Draco’s chest, making sure to cut deep enough to remove the entire top layers of Draco’s skin without cutting into muscle and bone. He gasped at the amount of blood that flowed out of the wound, trickling down his lover’s skin like a river of tears. Draco was being so brave, holding completely still and only whimpering lightly through gritted teeth. Harry figured that he was biting down on his tongue, probably through it, to cope with the pain, and Harry would have to heal it later. Hopefully, he wouldn’t split it in two because Harry wasn’t sure how to mend a halved tongue.
Harry kept cutting, as carefully as possible, and outlined the revolting black cross as best as he could. He knew that Draco was vain and if this worked, he didn’t want to hear him complain about scarring for the rest of their lives the way he always did about his Sectumsempra scars. As he got closer to edge of the cross, the mark hanging on only by a small sliver of skin, Harry started tearing it and Draco jerked upwards, no longer being able to keep his cool or his screams in.
“It’s okay, love.” He stopped for a moment and ran his left hand through Draco’s hair. “I’m almost finished. Just another minute or two. You’re being so brave. So very brave.”
Draco groaned and let out a stream of profanities that made Harry blush, but then he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and declared that he was ready for Harry to continue. With his hands trembling, Harry finished cutting and removed the hideous mark. Draco’s skin was so raw underneath, but somehow it wasn’t bleeding as profusely as it should have been. Perhaps it was a Veela thing. He cleaned the wound carefully, ignoring Draco’s screams of protest and bloody murder, and then finally bandaged it tightly.
“All done.” He wiped sweat from his forehead and let out a deep breath. The procedure had taken a lot longer than he had originally thought, but so far everything looked good. The wound was still bleeding, which Harry could see through the bandage, but only lightly. If they started right away, Harry should have enough time to make love to Draco and heal him before he started losing a dangerous amount of blood.
“Finally.” Draco groaned as he tried to sit up and lean against the headboard.
“No, just lay back. I’ll take care of you, tonight. Please.”
Draco scowled and looked as if he were going to complain, but then he closed his eyes and laid back. His face was pale again and Harry knew that he must be in an enormous amount of pain to give in so readily. Harry feathered a kiss him on his chapped lips and then propped a pillow underneath his back, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.
“Do you want me to get you a pain potion?” Harry asked, trying to mask the concern on his face.
“No, nothing magical. Just to be safe.”
“Fine.” Harry sighed and pulled off his shirt and trousers in record time. He had never been so desperate to get sex over with before. His last shag had been a one-night stand the night he received Christian’s letter. It had been a long fucking time for him, so he was more than ready to do this.
Harry propped himself up over Draco and bent down for a deep kiss. Kissing Draco had always been his favourite thing to do in the world, and now that Draco had come into his Veela inheritance, kissing Draco made his entire body tremble and a low hum purr in his ears.
“I love you.” Harry said, “so much.”
“I love you, too,” Draco replied in between kisses, “so fucking much, Potter.”
Harry laughed and shook his head at Draco’s snide comment. Back in school, he despised Draco’s snark, but now he adored it. He started trailing kisses down Draco’s chest, avoiding the bandage and working his way down to his groin.
“Mmmm--” Draco moaned in appreciation, causing a tightness in Harry’s own body. He had missed this so much and the mere act of undressing his gorgeous lover had his prick completely hard and ready to go.
“Harry--” Draco panted as Harry continued to tease him with him kisses and now started to massage his balls. “So good. But just do it. Just fuck me.”
Harry scoffed but obliged his lover anyway. Tonight was about Draco. If Draco wanted a quick shag, then that’s what he would get. He needed to be inside Draco, to claim him as his own, and cleanse him of that bastard Christian. He cast a wandless stretching charm and worked a finger into Draco’s arse, first slowly and then gradually quickening the pace. Once he was sure Draco was enjoying himself, he added a second and then a third finger, his own cock throbbing as he watched Draco’s head tilt back, his face flushing in pleasure.
“Harry. Please.” Draco was whinging now, writhing beneath him desperately.
“Alright, but I’m not going to last.”
“I don’t bloody care, Potter. Just get on with it before I bleed to death.”
Harry snorted and positioned himself at Draco’s entrance. Fuck, he had dreamed of this moment for so long. So many times over the past few months, but this wasn’t a dream. This time, it was real. He pushed himself into Draco’s tight hole and groaned at the contact. It was so tight and hot, even tighter than he had remembered it.
“Draco-” he panted, needing all his self-restraint to stop himself from moving. Before he moved, he needed to know that Draco wasn’t in pain.
“Move--” Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and jerked his hips upwards. “Now.”
So he did.
Harry didn’t need to be asked twice as he thrust in and out of Draco, each time deeper than the last. He arched Draco’s body as best as he could, hoping to reach Draco’s prostate more easily. When he heard Draco cry out, he knew that he had hit the spot, so he kept his hips in the same exact angle and tried for it again-this time pushing harder than he had before. When he heard Draco cry out again, this time in a high-pitched trill, his whole body began to tremble. Fucking Draco had always been amazing; he was pliable, tight, and quite vocal as a lover, but this time something was different. Harry’s skin was on fire, every nerve humming along with Draco’s trill; his beautiful song grew louder and fiercer with every thrust that Harry made, ramming deeper and deeper into his gorgeous lover’s arse, becoming captivated by his mellifluous song. In all his life, he had never heard such a beautiful melody, and each note pushed him closer and closer to the edge.
Usually, he slowed down and offered Draco some kisses and nibbles throughout their shag, so it would feel more like love making than a quick fuck. Today, it was impossible. He couldn’t stop thrusting faster and harder into Draco if his life depended on it. His heart pounded, hammering so fiercely against his ribs that he was afraid it would explode. And Draco, Merlin’s beard, Draco was writhing and moaning so wantonly beneath him-his pale skin flushing and glowing almost ethereally under the faint light. Without a doubt, he was the most beautiful creature that Harry had ever laid eyes on, and Harry couldn’t believe that he was given the opportunity to love him and be loved in return.
With his heart bursting with unyielding adoration for the Veela beneath him, and his entire body vibrating, perfectly in tune with Draco’s trill, Harry came-screaming out incoherent declarations of love, louder and harder than he had ever come in his entire life.
“Bloody hell,” he cried, as he pulled out of Draco and plopped down onto the bed besides him. “That was, you were...”
“Brilliant?” Draco offered helpfully, moving over to lay his head on Harry’s chest.
“I was going to go for mind-blowing but yeah. Will that always happen now?”
Draco blushed and looked up at the ceiling. “No, that’s the first time it’s happened. It’s my song, our song. I don’t know...it just poured out of me. I’ve never done that before. And I’m not sure if it’ll happen again.”
“Well, whatever it was...it was amazing. I’m the luckiest bloke in the world.”
He turned Draco’s head up to face him and kissed him.
Draco laughed, that deep chuckle of his that Harry adored. “Fuck, Potter, stop being such a Hufflepuff. We don’t even know if it worked yet.”
“Right.” Harry chewed his bottom lip. “Let me check.”
With trembling hands, he unwrapped Draco’s bandage, praying that their love was enough, for another miracle. He traced his fingers over where Draco’s wound had been just minutes earlier and exhaled sharply at what he saw-the black cross was gone, no trace of it at all. The wound had healed and in its place was fresh, healthy skin. The biggest shock, however, was that right above where that awful cross had been, there was now a small, silver mark in the shape of a lightning bolt.
“I-I” Harry blinked incredulously, his voice catching in the back of his throat.
“Did it work?” Draco pushed Harry’s hand away.
“I-I” Harry stammered again.
“For god’s sake, Potter, just step aside and I’ll check for myself. You sound like a blithering idiot.”
Draco leaped off the bed, graceful as ever, and ran over to the full-length mirror that Draco had insisted Harry install in his room once they became a couple.
“Salazar’s balls, Potter!” Draco shook his head and traced the lightning bolt mark. “Why must you always scar me?”
“I-I...sorry.” Harry shrugged and looked down at the floor.
“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” Harry asked in a small voice after gathering his thoughts.
Draco snorted and walked back over to the bed, resting his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
“Yes, I do. You are the most idiotic, stubborn, and reckless man I have ever met.”
“Oh.”
“But you’re my idiot, Potter. And you saved me again.” He threw his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him into a deep kiss.
“I love you, you twat. And now you’re really stuck with me for life.”
Harry laughed and returned his kiss, a huge besotted grin on his face. He would have no problem spending the rest of his days just like this, wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful creature in the entire world. He was a lucky man indeed.
~ Fin
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading. I know that there was a slew of Veela cliches in this fic, but I figured that since this was a Valentine's Day fest I would embrace them and come on it's Veela fic. Oh, the sap. Death by sap. I know. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it anyway.
[1] The quote at the beginning of the story comes from the song, "Without You", from the Musical Rent. It was written by Jonathon D Larson and doesn't belong to me.