Fic: Your Eyes Open (Draco/Harry)
TITLE: Your Eyes Open
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Draco thinks nothing of his Veela heritage, until he finds himself displaying for Harry-bloody-Potter. Determined to ignore his instincts, Draco struggles against his nature - he’ll go down fighting, every step of the way.
FANDOM: Harry Potter (Draco/Harry)
STATUS: Complete - 2,572 words
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest, darkest, corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: Written for do_me_veela. Thanks to echo_of_dusk, d_andru, freakingcrups for beta-reading. Originally posted here.
***
The universe was playing a horrible joke on him. Draco knew it was. Why else would he be staring across the classroom at Harry bloody Potter?
“Draco,” Pansy murmured hesitantly, “you do realise that-”
“Be quiet, Pansy.”
This was so embarrassing.
No, scrap that.
This was mortifying. He was sitting in Potions staring wistfully across the room at a boy he had despised and ridiculed for six and a half years. To be sitting here now, lusting after said boy... Draco wanted to yell ‘goodbye cruel world’ before throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower. Tearing his eyes away, he stared at his potions notes until his eyes unfocused.
Pansy was surveying him curiously. She had been doing that a lot since he turned seventeen and came into his Veela inheritance. She was quite possibly the only person in the entire school who thought he was better looking before the change. Not that there was much of a difference, or at least, Draco didn’t think so. The students of Hogwarts would probably say otherwise.
“Draco,” she began again, “do you think Potter is-”
“Be quiet, Pansy.”
“I’m just saying that-”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You have been staring-”
“I haven’t.”
“But maybe-”
“Miss Parkinson. Mr Malfoy,” Snape interrupted smoothly, “please be quiet in my class.”
They both fell silent, each looking away from the other. Unfortunately for Draco, that meant looking back across the classroom, and there was only one place his eyes wanted to be.
Grey eyes met green.
Well... that was interesting. In the entire week that Draco had been staring, Potter had never once been looking back. Harry’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly - no doubt wondering why Draco was staring at him with anything less than malice in his eyes. Harry stared for several agonizing seconds before looking away.
Wait.
He looked away?
Just like that. Like it was the simplest thing in the entire world. Draco wanted to storm across the room, grab Harry’s shoulders and- Draco had no idea what he wanted to do, but he did know that Harry should never look away from him like that... as if Draco was nothing.
Oh crap.
~~~
It was easy to ignore at first.
Draco avoided Harry like the plague and did everything he could to push aside the butterflies that were starting to make themselves known in the pit of his stomach. Pansy was still observing and seeing much more then she should have. Draco caught sight of her talking to Potter more than once. That made Draco nervous. What was she doing? There was no way in hell that Potter was his... his...
Draco didn’t even want to think about it!
And then it happened... all of Draco’s carefully laid plans were dumped down the drain when Harry cornered him one afternoon in the library. Draco took one look at the Gryffindor walking towards him and set off abruptly in the opposite direction.
“Malfoy,” Harry called, “wait.”
Like hell he would. Draco darted between shelves at random until he successfully lost Harry in the labyrinth that was the library. On his own once more, Draco slid into one of the study desks just beyond the Restricted Section and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. He hadn’t been sleeping well of late and it was beginning to catch up with him. He wasn’t himself. He never would have run away from Potter otherwise- but then again, he hadn’t truly been himself since his seventeenth birthday. This strange-staring-Potter-stalking-Draco was new... and rather terrifying.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and Draco shuddered. He knew what that meant. It was a brand new side effect of Potter’s presence that Draco didn’t even know he had. “When someone walks away from you,” Draco drawled, not looking up, “it generally means they don’t want to talk to you.”
“Too bad,” Harry snapped, sliding into the seat opposite him. “We need to talk.”
Draco knew he must look ridiculous sitting there with his eyes closed and fingers massaging his temples, but right at this second, the need to keep his eyes closed was much stronger than the need to look at Harry. “So talk,” Draco said.
“Am I your mate?”
Draco’s hand froze for a heartbeat before he continued massaging his forehead. “No. No way in hell.”
Harry was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to look at me when you say that?”
“No.” Please, please, please, go away, Draco begged internally.
“Pansy seems to think I am.”
“Pansy has a tendency to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Draco dropped his hand and straightened, opening his eyes to glare at Harry. “Look, even if you were my mate, it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.” Draco said, successfully regaining his equilibrium and sneering across the table. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Potter, I hate you and you hate me; I will burn in hell before I agree to be anywhere near you.”
Harry’s eyes were very green. Draco was struggling not to drown in their depths.
Finally Harry nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Good.” Draco stood and shoved his chair back with a loud scrape. “Stay away from me.”
~~~
It got worse.
Barely two weeks later Draco felt and looked like a zombie. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he spent the majority of his time snapping at anyone who dared approach him, and he was pretty sure his Veela-side was about to throttle him.
Time and time again Draco felt Harry’s eyes on him and if that wasn’t annoying enough, Pansy was watching him too. Then there was the Mudblood, the Weasel, Snape, McGonagall and the majority of the student body who all seemed to have bets going on as to when and where Draco was finally going to lose it.
Draco wasn’t all that surprised. He knew he looked bad. He just felt so sick all the time. At some stage Pansy had dragged him to see Madam Pomfrey - the old hag took one look at him and called for Potter. Draco was so horrified he’d run out of the infirmary dragging Pansy with him.
“Potter?” She said his name like the Golden Boy was the answer to every single problem in the world. Draco had been quite ready to let his Veela-side loose on her. That side definitely wanted the blood of something on its hands.
“Maybe you should just talk to him,” Pansy suggested tentatively one afternoon as they made their way down to the Slytherin commons. “The only reason you feel sick all the time is because you’re ignoring your Veela instincts.”
“If my Veela instincts are going to insist that I throw myself in front of Potter at every available moment then I’m going to ignore them until I’m old and grey in my rocking chair,” Draco spat back. He really wasn't in the mood to have this conversation again. “Besides, I really don’t- ooof!”
Draco didn’t get the chance to say what exactly he didn’t want, because at that second, the classroom door to his left opened and Pansy, reacting with a speed and swiftness that was quite frankly impressive, shoved him inside. Caught by surprise, Draco couldn’t do anything about it. He stumbled over the threshold and caught the barest glimpse of Potter before he spun back to the door. It slammed closed in his face and glowed bright yellow as Pansy cast every single locking charm she knew on the other side.
“Traitor!” Draco shouted.
“Just talk to him,” Pansy said through the door. “That’s all. Just talk.”
“I hate you,” Draco snarled.
“I love you too; I’ll be back in an hour.”
The sound of her footsteps disappeared back down the corridor and Draco groaned, pressing his forehead to the heavy wood. Harry was approaching from behind; Draco could sense him getting closer. Reacting quickly, Draco darted away to the opposite side of the room before Potter could touch him.
“This is ridiculous,” Harry huffed. “Just let me-”
“No way, Potter,” Draco cut in, holding up his hands up as though he were warding off an evil spirit. “You stay on your side of the room and I’ll stay on mine. I have no problem talking to you but there are rules here.”
Harry took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “Fine,” he relented, dropping his bag and sliding into the chair furthest from Draco’s. “If that’s your rule then I have one of my own- stop staring at me. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have an erection in class? Especially when the whole reason I have one is because Hogwarts’ resident Veela can’t look away.”
Draco was already staring. Just the word ‘erection’ was enough to have Draco’s fingers itching to reach under Potter’s jumper and- He shook his head, forcefully pushing the image aside. It was ridiculous how much he wanted him. Every single instinct in his body was screaming at him to rush across the room and claim what was his. The desire was so strong he had to grip the seat of his chair to stay physically in place. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.
It didn’t.
Harry was looking at him - it was almost like a physical caress. Draco could feel Harry’s green eyes all over his body. Draco clenched his jaw, struggling to remain calm. “Potter,” he gritted out. “Stop looking at me.”
“That wasn’t one of your rules and besides... what if I don’t want to?” Harry asked softly.
The urge continued to grow until Draco was almost consumed by it. No way was he giving in to this genetic bastard. Abruptly, Draco shoved his chair back and walked quickly to the door. What he needed was a cold shower, a nice, cold shower and his weight in chocolate. Yes, that would be perfect. Reaching the door, Draco yanked out his wand, prepared to blow the bloody thing down-
A hand slammed flat against the wood.
Draco looked up, eyes wide, surprised by Harry’s sudden reappearance. It was perhaps two seconds before his Veela-side realised its mate was close - the warmth and affection that flared up in his veins was almost embarrassing. “Get out of my way, Potter,” he snarled.
“No,” Harry replied simply, his voice and eyes oddly calm in the face of Draco’s fury. “This has gone on long enough. I don’t care how much you hate the idea of me being your mate, you need to get over yourself and realise that I’m not going anywhere. We are literally stuck together, Malfoy.”
“No we’re-”
“Yes, we are.”
Draco lifted his chin ever so slightly, staring stubbornly into Harry’s eyes. His hands were shaking and his heart was racing, but Potter didn’t need to know that. Harry didn’t need to know anything that was running through his brain right now - like how incredible his eyes looked blazing with passion, and how his tousled hair and flushed cheeks made Draco think of nothing except sex, sex, sex.
“You want me,” Harry said simply.
Draco shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Just admit it.”
“I’m not admitting anything. I’m not submitting to you, Potter.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“No? Then what are you asking? Veelas are pretty much the most submissive creatures in the world. Or didn’t your girlfriend tell you that?”
“That doesn’t mean-” Harry ran an annoyed hand through his hair. “Are you talking about Hermione? Look, submission doesn’t mean that you have to do everything I say. It doesn’t mean that you have to submit to me sexually. It just means that you’re mine. It goes both ways. I’d be yours too.”
That wasn’t quite right, because Draco knew he was submissive. He could feel it deep down in the pits of his stomach. It was the part of him that wanted Harry to be pleased with him. The part that wanted to make him proud. The part that needed to know that he was loved and looked after. He had always felt that way, even as a kid striving for his father’s affection. Draco swallowed hard; he didn’t know if he could ever fully embrace that side of himself. Not yet. Not with someone he barely knew, even after seven years.
Then all of a sudden, Harry’s hands were touching his face. Draco couldn’t stop his reaction, his eyes fluttered closed as Harry’s warm hands cupped his cheeks.
“It’s okay,” Harry murmured, his thumbs gently stroking Draco’s skin. “I’m not saying we should go have crazy Veela sex, I’m just saying that maybe you’d feel better if you let me in a little. Not a lot, just a little bit. Like this.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to Draco’s.
It was overwhelming, having Harry this close - his Veela-side was skipping around throwing confetti gleefully into the air - but it wasn’t all consuming. Instead of his instincts raring to get into Harry’s pants, for the first time in weeks he felt... content. Maybe this wasn’t about sex. Maybe accepting Harry’s presence would be enough for both of them... for now, anyway. Draco wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrists, holding him gently in place.
“Is this okay?” Harry prompted softly.
Draco nodded, snagging his lower lip between his teeth and biting down.
“Okay.” Harry pulled back a little, smoothing his thumbs around the shell of Draco’s ears. He pulled back even further and Draco’s hands tightened automatically around his wrists.
Their eyes met and Draco forced himself to let go. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No, it’s okay,” Harry said. He caught Draco’s face between his hands again and smiled. “I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“This is good,” Draco admitted, stepping close and resting his hands on Harry’s forearms. “Just stay here for a little bit. I’m not used to having you in my personal space.”
Harry’s hands moved, resting where Draco’s neck met his shoulders. “Just keep me in the loop. I’m more than happy for you to call the shots, just don’t push me away anymore.”
Draco took a deep breath and hesitated before nodding.
He wasn’t sure what this was the start of - but it was definitely the start of something.
END
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Draco thinks nothing of his Veela heritage, until he finds himself displaying for Harry-bloody-Potter. Determined to ignore his instincts, Draco struggles against his nature - he’ll go down fighting, every step of the way.
FANDOM: Harry Potter (Draco/Harry)
STATUS: Complete - 2,572 words
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest, darkest, corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: Written for do_me_veela. Thanks to echo_of_dusk, d_andru, freakingcrups for beta-reading. Originally posted here.
***
The universe was playing a horrible joke on him. Draco knew it was. Why else would he be staring across the classroom at Harry bloody Potter?
“Draco,” Pansy murmured hesitantly, “you do realise that-”
“Be quiet, Pansy.”
This was so embarrassing.
No, scrap that.
This was mortifying. He was sitting in Potions staring wistfully across the room at a boy he had despised and ridiculed for six and a half years. To be sitting here now, lusting after said boy... Draco wanted to yell ‘goodbye cruel world’ before throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower. Tearing his eyes away, he stared at his potions notes until his eyes unfocused.
Pansy was surveying him curiously. She had been doing that a lot since he turned seventeen and came into his Veela inheritance. She was quite possibly the only person in the entire school who thought he was better looking before the change. Not that there was much of a difference, or at least, Draco didn’t think so. The students of Hogwarts would probably say otherwise.
“Draco,” she began again, “do you think Potter is-”
“Be quiet, Pansy.”
“I’m just saying that-”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You have been staring-”
“I haven’t.”
“But maybe-”
“Miss Parkinson. Mr Malfoy,” Snape interrupted smoothly, “please be quiet in my class.”
They both fell silent, each looking away from the other. Unfortunately for Draco, that meant looking back across the classroom, and there was only one place his eyes wanted to be.
Grey eyes met green.
Well... that was interesting. In the entire week that Draco had been staring, Potter had never once been looking back. Harry’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly - no doubt wondering why Draco was staring at him with anything less than malice in his eyes. Harry stared for several agonizing seconds before looking away.
Wait.
He looked away?
Just like that. Like it was the simplest thing in the entire world. Draco wanted to storm across the room, grab Harry’s shoulders and- Draco had no idea what he wanted to do, but he did know that Harry should never look away from him like that... as if Draco was nothing.
Oh crap.
~~~
It was easy to ignore at first.
Draco avoided Harry like the plague and did everything he could to push aside the butterflies that were starting to make themselves known in the pit of his stomach. Pansy was still observing and seeing much more then she should have. Draco caught sight of her talking to Potter more than once. That made Draco nervous. What was she doing? There was no way in hell that Potter was his... his...
Draco didn’t even want to think about it!
And then it happened... all of Draco’s carefully laid plans were dumped down the drain when Harry cornered him one afternoon in the library. Draco took one look at the Gryffindor walking towards him and set off abruptly in the opposite direction.
“Malfoy,” Harry called, “wait.”
Like hell he would. Draco darted between shelves at random until he successfully lost Harry in the labyrinth that was the library. On his own once more, Draco slid into one of the study desks just beyond the Restricted Section and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. He hadn’t been sleeping well of late and it was beginning to catch up with him. He wasn’t himself. He never would have run away from Potter otherwise- but then again, he hadn’t truly been himself since his seventeenth birthday. This strange-staring-Potter-stalking-Draco was new... and rather terrifying.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and Draco shuddered. He knew what that meant. It was a brand new side effect of Potter’s presence that Draco didn’t even know he had. “When someone walks away from you,” Draco drawled, not looking up, “it generally means they don’t want to talk to you.”
“Too bad,” Harry snapped, sliding into the seat opposite him. “We need to talk.”
Draco knew he must look ridiculous sitting there with his eyes closed and fingers massaging his temples, but right at this second, the need to keep his eyes closed was much stronger than the need to look at Harry. “So talk,” Draco said.
“Am I your mate?”
Draco’s hand froze for a heartbeat before he continued massaging his forehead. “No. No way in hell.”
Harry was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to look at me when you say that?”
“No.” Please, please, please, go away, Draco begged internally.
“Pansy seems to think I am.”
“Pansy has a tendency to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Draco dropped his hand and straightened, opening his eyes to glare at Harry. “Look, even if you were my mate, it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.” Draco said, successfully regaining his equilibrium and sneering across the table. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Potter, I hate you and you hate me; I will burn in hell before I agree to be anywhere near you.”
Harry’s eyes were very green. Draco was struggling not to drown in their depths.
Finally Harry nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Good.” Draco stood and shoved his chair back with a loud scrape. “Stay away from me.”
~~~
It got worse.
Barely two weeks later Draco felt and looked like a zombie. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he spent the majority of his time snapping at anyone who dared approach him, and he was pretty sure his Veela-side was about to throttle him.
Time and time again Draco felt Harry’s eyes on him and if that wasn’t annoying enough, Pansy was watching him too. Then there was the Mudblood, the Weasel, Snape, McGonagall and the majority of the student body who all seemed to have bets going on as to when and where Draco was finally going to lose it.
Draco wasn’t all that surprised. He knew he looked bad. He just felt so sick all the time. At some stage Pansy had dragged him to see Madam Pomfrey - the old hag took one look at him and called for Potter. Draco was so horrified he’d run out of the infirmary dragging Pansy with him.
“Potter?” She said his name like the Golden Boy was the answer to every single problem in the world. Draco had been quite ready to let his Veela-side loose on her. That side definitely wanted the blood of something on its hands.
“Maybe you should just talk to him,” Pansy suggested tentatively one afternoon as they made their way down to the Slytherin commons. “The only reason you feel sick all the time is because you’re ignoring your Veela instincts.”
“If my Veela instincts are going to insist that I throw myself in front of Potter at every available moment then I’m going to ignore them until I’m old and grey in my rocking chair,” Draco spat back. He really wasn't in the mood to have this conversation again. “Besides, I really don’t- ooof!”
Draco didn’t get the chance to say what exactly he didn’t want, because at that second, the classroom door to his left opened and Pansy, reacting with a speed and swiftness that was quite frankly impressive, shoved him inside. Caught by surprise, Draco couldn’t do anything about it. He stumbled over the threshold and caught the barest glimpse of Potter before he spun back to the door. It slammed closed in his face and glowed bright yellow as Pansy cast every single locking charm she knew on the other side.
“Traitor!” Draco shouted.
“Just talk to him,” Pansy said through the door. “That’s all. Just talk.”
“I hate you,” Draco snarled.
“I love you too; I’ll be back in an hour.”
The sound of her footsteps disappeared back down the corridor and Draco groaned, pressing his forehead to the heavy wood. Harry was approaching from behind; Draco could sense him getting closer. Reacting quickly, Draco darted away to the opposite side of the room before Potter could touch him.
“This is ridiculous,” Harry huffed. “Just let me-”
“No way, Potter,” Draco cut in, holding up his hands up as though he were warding off an evil spirit. “You stay on your side of the room and I’ll stay on mine. I have no problem talking to you but there are rules here.”
Harry took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “Fine,” he relented, dropping his bag and sliding into the chair furthest from Draco’s. “If that’s your rule then I have one of my own- stop staring at me. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have an erection in class? Especially when the whole reason I have one is because Hogwarts’ resident Veela can’t look away.”
Draco was already staring. Just the word ‘erection’ was enough to have Draco’s fingers itching to reach under Potter’s jumper and- He shook his head, forcefully pushing the image aside. It was ridiculous how much he wanted him. Every single instinct in his body was screaming at him to rush across the room and claim what was his. The desire was so strong he had to grip the seat of his chair to stay physically in place. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.
It didn’t.
Harry was looking at him - it was almost like a physical caress. Draco could feel Harry’s green eyes all over his body. Draco clenched his jaw, struggling to remain calm. “Potter,” he gritted out. “Stop looking at me.”
“That wasn’t one of your rules and besides... what if I don’t want to?” Harry asked softly.
The urge continued to grow until Draco was almost consumed by it. No way was he giving in to this genetic bastard. Abruptly, Draco shoved his chair back and walked quickly to the door. What he needed was a cold shower, a nice, cold shower and his weight in chocolate. Yes, that would be perfect. Reaching the door, Draco yanked out his wand, prepared to blow the bloody thing down-
A hand slammed flat against the wood.
Draco looked up, eyes wide, surprised by Harry’s sudden reappearance. It was perhaps two seconds before his Veela-side realised its mate was close - the warmth and affection that flared up in his veins was almost embarrassing. “Get out of my way, Potter,” he snarled.
“No,” Harry replied simply, his voice and eyes oddly calm in the face of Draco’s fury. “This has gone on long enough. I don’t care how much you hate the idea of me being your mate, you need to get over yourself and realise that I’m not going anywhere. We are literally stuck together, Malfoy.”
“No we’re-”
“Yes, we are.”
Draco lifted his chin ever so slightly, staring stubbornly into Harry’s eyes. His hands were shaking and his heart was racing, but Potter didn’t need to know that. Harry didn’t need to know anything that was running through his brain right now - like how incredible his eyes looked blazing with passion, and how his tousled hair and flushed cheeks made Draco think of nothing except sex, sex, sex.
“You want me,” Harry said simply.
Draco shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Just admit it.”
“I’m not admitting anything. I’m not submitting to you, Potter.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“No? Then what are you asking? Veelas are pretty much the most submissive creatures in the world. Or didn’t your girlfriend tell you that?”
“That doesn’t mean-” Harry ran an annoyed hand through his hair. “Are you talking about Hermione? Look, submission doesn’t mean that you have to do everything I say. It doesn’t mean that you have to submit to me sexually. It just means that you’re mine. It goes both ways. I’d be yours too.”
That wasn’t quite right, because Draco knew he was submissive. He could feel it deep down in the pits of his stomach. It was the part of him that wanted Harry to be pleased with him. The part that wanted to make him proud. The part that needed to know that he was loved and looked after. He had always felt that way, even as a kid striving for his father’s affection. Draco swallowed hard; he didn’t know if he could ever fully embrace that side of himself. Not yet. Not with someone he barely knew, even after seven years.
Then all of a sudden, Harry’s hands were touching his face. Draco couldn’t stop his reaction, his eyes fluttered closed as Harry’s warm hands cupped his cheeks.
“It’s okay,” Harry murmured, his thumbs gently stroking Draco’s skin. “I’m not saying we should go have crazy Veela sex, I’m just saying that maybe you’d feel better if you let me in a little. Not a lot, just a little bit. Like this.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to Draco’s.
It was overwhelming, having Harry this close - his Veela-side was skipping around throwing confetti gleefully into the air - but it wasn’t all consuming. Instead of his instincts raring to get into Harry’s pants, for the first time in weeks he felt... content. Maybe this wasn’t about sex. Maybe accepting Harry’s presence would be enough for both of them... for now, anyway. Draco wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrists, holding him gently in place.
“Is this okay?” Harry prompted softly.
Draco nodded, snagging his lower lip between his teeth and biting down.
“Okay.” Harry pulled back a little, smoothing his thumbs around the shell of Draco’s ears. He pulled back even further and Draco’s hands tightened automatically around his wrists.
Their eyes met and Draco forced himself to let go. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No, it’s okay,” Harry said. He caught Draco’s face between his hands again and smiled. “I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“This is good,” Draco admitted, stepping close and resting his hands on Harry’s forearms. “Just stay here for a little bit. I’m not used to having you in my personal space.”
Harry’s hands moved, resting where Draco’s neck met his shoulders. “Just keep me in the loop. I’m more than happy for you to call the shots, just don’t push me away anymore.”
Draco took a deep breath and hesitated before nodding.
He wasn’t sure what this was the start of - but it was definitely the start of something.
END