The Obligatory 'Draco is a Veela' Story that Every HP Fanfiction Author has to Write - Harry/Draco
Here is the final version of my Veela!Draco Story (though I probably still need a better title.) I'd like to thank jasmasson for doing such a fast and wonderful job beta reading this story for me.
Also - thank you to the amazing people on my flist who gave me feedback and encouraged me in this bit of silliness.
Title: The Obligatory 'Draco is a Veela' Story that Every HP Fanfiction Author has to Write
Author: mahaliem
Rating: Teen
Summary: Draco is part Veela. Unhappy with his chosen mate, he searches for a substitute.
Chapter 1
The summer before seventh year, Lucius told Draco that he was part Veela. He also informed him that this was the age when his powers of attraction should be manifesting. Draco had suspected something was up when he was continuingly forced to pull house elves off of his body. He would be walking through the manor when... Splat... a house elf would be stuck to his leg. This was no fun. At least for him. The house elves didn't seem to mind.
When his father told him he was part Veela, Draco had a number of questions.
"Father, will I become even more devastatingly beautiful than I already am?"
"Yes."
"Will I become so devastatingly beautiful that men and women will fall to the ground begging for the honour of me tromping upon them?"
"Yes."
"Will I be as devastatingly beautiful as you?"
"You wish."
His father warned him that because he was part Veela, he would have to be very careful when it came to mates. He would find himself drawn to an individual and he would have little choice as to who that individual was. The mate would even be able to control him, if they so desired.
Fortunately, as he was also part wizard, there was one tiny loophole. If the mate was not to his liking, he would be able to find a substitute mate. The catch was that he would have to find a suitable substitute mate within one week. Otherwise, he would be linked to the original mate for life.
Draco nodded his head, pretending to listen, but was instead imagining all the wonderful sex he'd be having in the near future.
It took Draco quite a bit of practice, but he was soon able to control his powers to the point that house elves no longer attached themselves to parts of his body. Although this did not sit well with the house elves, there was nothing they could do.
* * *
Upon returning to Hogwarts with visions of orgies dancing nakedly in his head, Draco was immediately greeted with a strange sensation. Something, some wild yearning was pulling him to the Great Hall where everyone was assembling for the annual sorting.
"It's the call of your mate," Vince Crabbe explained to him.
"How do you know?" Draco asked.
"I'm part Veela, myself."
Draco stared at Vince.
"But you probably realised that, didn't you?"
Draco continued to stare.
"I knew," Greg Goyle volunteered, while gazing longingly at Vince.
Vince smiled at him indulgently, then returned his attention to Draco. "Last spring I found my mate. He's the owner of Honeydukes." At Draco's questioningly look, Vince sighed. "Didn't your father explain that your mate would possess some quality that would attract you?"
He thought for a moment. Father might have said something like that, but Draco had been busy planning how to use his powers on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
"You're saying that my mate is in there?" Draco indicated the Great Hall with a jerk of his head and Vince nodded.
Who could my mate be? Draco wondered at he entered. The sensation grew stronger. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him. With his eyes still closed he moved forward, drawn by the presence of his mate.
Unfortunately, with his eyes closed, he didn't get very far. After bumping into a several students, he commanded, "Greg, Vince, clear the way for me." He could now hear cries and thumps as people and furniture were pushed out of his way as he walked further into the hall.
At last he felt his mate's presence nearby and a shiver ran through his body. This would be the person he belonged with. The one soul throughout the world that matched perfectly with his. The person with whom he would spend the rest of his life.
Opening his eyes, he let out a gasp.
No. It couldn't be. Not him. Anyone but him.
Draco's eyes met the eyes of his mate. Eyes that seemed to be twinkling.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said.
Draco screamed.
* * *
"How did it go?" Greg asked, leading a shaky Draco to the leather couch in the Slytherin common room.
At the end of the feast, Dumbledore had requested for Draco to follow him to his office to discuss matters. That had been an hour before and he'd just returned from the meeting.
"It was awful." His voice was rough and hoarse. "The man is insane."
"What did he do?" Vince seated himself next to Draco on the couch.
"First he plied me with sweets. Many, many sweets. He kept offering them to me and since he is my mate and has power over me, I felt obliged to take them. All of them." Draco let out a wail. "If this keeps up I will soon be fat and spotty. I don't want to be fat and spotty. I want to continue to be devastatingly beautiful."
"Don't worry," Vince said, patting Draco's back in a way that was supposed to comfortingly but was so hard it almost sent him sprawling to the floor. "You're a Veela. You will always be devastatingly beautiful even if you are fat and spotty."
Unfortunately, this advice did not console Draco in the least.
"Dumbledore's old. I was hoping to have hot wild sex with various young studs. But he's old and wrinkly. His bits are probably old and wrinkly, too."
"Think of all the experience he must have," Greg advised.
Draco's stomach lurched. "I'd rather not." He glanced around the common room to see if anyone was listening. They probably all were, but he wanted to make sure that they heard the next piece of news so he spoke a bit louder. "He's also a pervert."
"We all knew that," Pansy exclaimed from where she'd been sitting, pretending to read, on the other side of the room. "He's the most powerful wizard next to the Dark Lord and what does he decide to do with his life? Run a school. He must be a pervert."
"Yes, but you have no idea of how truly perverted he is," Draco stated. "You know he keeps that great big bloody bird in his office, right? Draco lowered his voice again and most of those in the common room leaned in closer in order to hear better. "Dumbledore said that after we were mated and my loyalty was assured he wanted me to join with it."
"No!" Pansy gasped.
"He did." Draco nodded emphatically. To tell the truth, he hadn't been paying much attention. His brain had been occupied with running around and screaming like a little girl that he didn't want to mate with the Headmaster and please please please don't let Dumbledore decide to have his wicked, wicked way with him. But he had definitely heard the words Phoenix and joining.
"Evidently there's an entire group having pervy bird sex with Fawkes," Draco confessed.
There was silence in the Slytherin common room as they all came to realise that despite their collective desire to be the baddest of the bad, they were all horribly overwhelmingly outdone.
"Well," said Greg slowly, "it is a nice looking bird."
Chapter 2
"Are you sure about this?" Greg asked.
"Absolutely." Draco poured the potion he'd just finished making into a vial. "I am clearly searching for a mate who is a more powerful wizard than I. Therefore, when seeking a substitute mate, I must find someone who also holds that position."
The students finished up and were filing out of the classroom, both Vince and Greg gave him encouraging nods as they left. Draco wished everyone would hurry. This was going to be difficult to do and he certainly didn't want an audience. When Potter stopped next to him, Draco huffed out a breath.
"What do you want?"
"I was wondering if you understood today's lesson," Potter managed to stammer.
"Of course."
"Would you consider explaining it to me? Maybe in the library after dinner?"
Was Potter asking him for a study date? Draco looked closely at Potter's head, searching for an injury. With all that messy hair, though, it was quite hard to tell.
"I would rather hold hands with a first-year Hufflepuff and go skipping into the Forbidden Forest together."
Potter's brow furrowed. "Is that a no?"
Rolling his eyes, Draco replied, "Yes."
"Then it's yes?" asked Potter.
"No!" Draco shouted.
"Which is it? Yes or no?" Potter appeared completely perplexed.
In frustration, Draco growled and grabbed Potter by his robe and pushed him back against the desk behind him. Instead of fighting him, however, Potter smiled widely.
"Or we could forget about the library altogether," he murmured as Draco pressed against him.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," snarled Snape, coming up the aisle towards the pair. He glared at Potter as he continued. "For conduct unbecoming of a student of Hogwarts."
Draco stepped away, pleased, anticipating some sort of sputtering outrage from Potter. But the boy surprised him again by simply acknowledging Snape with a nod. He then moved past Draco so closely that their bodies brushed.
"See you around, Malfoy" he murmured as he went by.
Draco followed his progression until he was out the door, staring intently. No, there was no way one could determine the extent of whatever head injury Potter was sporting.
Dismissing the matter, he turned toward Snape. "Professor, I wish to speak to you about my being a Veela."
"Oh, joy," Snape muttered.
Wow. He'd heard rumours that Snape could read minds, but hadn't believed it until now. Snape must know what was about to happen.
"As you are undoubtedly aware, I am part Veela. Additionally, it has been determined that Dumbledore is my mate."
Draco heard a strange sort of snorting sound and shot a glance at Snape's face. He saw that Snape's hand was covering his mouth. Obviously, he'd been coughing.
"Have you informed your father of this news?" Snape asked.
"Not yet."
"Please let me know when you intend to do so. I would be more than happy to accompany you home so that you may tell Lucius that Dumbledore will soon be his son-in-law. I might even borrow that Creevey creature's contraption to record the moment for posterity."
"Actually, I was thinking that might not be necessary. As you may also know, because I am part Wizard, I can choose a substitute mate." The smirk dropped from Snape's face.
Smiling, Draco stepped closer. Snape, eyeing him warily, moved back.
"I choose you," Draco stated as he closed the distance between them again.
There was no whoop of delight. No loud cry of triumph in the wake of this announcement. In fact, Snape had gone quite still, his eyes wide. Draco decided that he'd been struck dumb by his stroke of good fortune.
"Professor Snape," he said, worriedly. "I know this news has overwhelmed you, but please try to breathe. I do prefer that my mate be alive."
Draco wondered if he would be forced to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and then wondered how to do it when the victim was still in an upright position.
Fortunately, Snape sucked in a breath. Unfortunately, when it came out of him again it was in the form of words.
"Mister Malfoy, I must tell you that I am not attracted to males. I am, however, quite curious as to exactly what I did to make you think that I would welcome your advances. Enlighten me - is it my careful attention to grooming?" Snape flung his greasy hair back from his face. "My innate sense of style?" He flapped the sides of his severe black robes then leaned closer so that his face was mere inches away from Draco's. "Or perhaps it was my sensitive manner?"
This was so not going according to plan. In desperation, Draco unleashed his Veela powers of attraction.
Snape looked surprised, but the only move he made was to step out of the way as a first-year student sailed in from the hallway to attach herself to Draco's leg. As Draco reined in his powers and struggled to get the little Ravenclaw off of him, Snape smiled cruelly.
"My compliments, Mister Malfoy. Your Veela powers are quite strong, but I'm afraid that they aren't nearly enough. Despite all of your various charms..." Snape let his gaze drift down Draco's body and then leisurely drift back up, "... I must decline this honour."
Snape was stalking back to the front of his classroom when he spun and faced Draco once more. "You may be part Veela, Mister Malfoy, but you are certainly no Vincent Crabbe."
* * *
"It didn't work?" Greg asked at dinner that night.
Draco aimed a spell at the glass of pumpkin juice next to Potter's plate, creating a hairline crack in the side. "I had no idea Snape was straight," he said.
"He is? That's a shocker."
"Who are you going to try next? McGonagall?" Vince asked, between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.
Valiantly, Draco tamped down the desire to hit his friend with the serving platter of carrots in retaliation for that particular suggestion. "No. At least the Headmaster's a male. The point is to improve on Dumbledore, not make it worse."
"I don't know about that. The woman's got a great pair of pins on her," Greg said, reaching for another serving of chicken.
Draco and Vince turned to stare at him.
"What?" asked Greg.
"Sometimes you worry me, Goyle," Draco replied.
At the Gryffindor table, Potter started to take a drink and a trickle of juice spilled down upon his robes.
"I need to think of someone else." Draco idly watched as Potter's glass fractured and juice poured into his lap. Potter sprang up from his seat and tore off his now sopping robes. He then began using a napkin to try to blot some of the wetness that had leaked through. The shirt material was clinging to his chest and Draco wondered if the boy got off by exposing himself in such a blatant manner.
"Perhaps I'm not looking for a mate powerful in magic. Perhaps it's something else."
"Maybe it's something physical," Vince suggested. "Maybe you just like beards."
Draco looked at the head table where Dumbledore sat, his long beard flowing down his chest. A shiver ran down his spine as the Headmaster winked at him. He then looked further down the table.
"Oh dear God, no."
Chapter 3
"Mister Malfoy, I'm so glad you could come see me. Please, help yourself to a lemon drop."
Like he had any choice, Draco grumbled to himself. The Headmaster had requested to meet with him after dinner and so he'd found himself heading toward Dumbledore's office despite not wishing to do anything of the sort. Because he was compelled to do whatever his mate asked, he now found himself reaching for a lemon drop even though he despised the things.
Dumbledore smiled as Draco placed the sweet in his mouth. "Since we are soon to enter into a partnership with one another I find myself curious to know you better. Tell me about yourself."
"Mm mmmm, mmmmmmmmm, mmm mmmmm mmmmmm,"* Draco answered.
Mortification filled Draco. If his mother knew that he was talking with his mouth full, she would commit suicide by some socially acceptable means and be buried, just so that she could roll over in her grave. Unfortunately, he'd had no choice but to answer Dumbledore to the best of his ability.
"How marvelous," Dumbledore exclaimed. "Please have another lemon drop."
Although he tried to fight the offer, a second candy went into Draco's mouth before he'd even finished the first.
The Headmaster leaned forward. "How do feel about being part Veela and your powers?"
"Mm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mm m mmmmmmmmmm mm m mmm mm mmmm mmm mmmmmm mm mmmmm mmmmmmmm."**
"Wonderful. Wonderful. Help yourself to another lemon drop."
Draco placed a third candy into his mouth.
"Now tell me, Mister Malfoy, and this is extremely important - what is your opinion on socks?"
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Every year Draco hated Care of Magical Creatures classes. This year was no exception.
He looked at the monster in front of him and gulped. It was horrible, hairy with beady eyes and large paws that looked as if they could tear you apart. The animal Hagrid was holding appeared to be fairly dangerous, as well. It was green, with a spot in the middle of its forehead that was pulsing red.
"This fellow here," Hagrid boomed, "is called a clabbert. Who knows where yer can find clabberts?"
Granger's hand shot up and Draco sneered. "Know-it-all," he muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear but not so loudly that he'd get in trouble. It was an ability he'd perfected over the years.
"Clabberts are found in America. North America to be exact."
"Right yer are, Hermione. They live in trees there. Now who'd like to hold him?"
As a group, the entire class stepped back. Hagrid had been a most effective instructor when it came to teaching them to beware of unknown creatures.
"Come now. Not likely he'd do much damage to yer." Hagrid paused as he considered what he'd just said before adding, "Least none that can't be cured."
Almost everyone turned to look at Harry, expecting him to volunteer. Which was why it was a surprise when Draco said, "I'll do it."
He walked to the front of the class where Hagrid looked at him in shock for a moment then eyed him suspiciously.
"Yer sure about this?"
Draco nodded.
"Not planning on hurting him, are yer?"
"No," Draco said, trying hard not to roll his eyes.
"He's just a wee thing. Hasn't done yer no harm."
"Oh, for-" Draco cut off what he'd been about to say and restrained his temper. "Just give me the filthy bugger."
Still acting as if he was handing over his own flesh and blood to a known axe murderer, Hagrid placed the clabbert in Draco's arms.
"See? Nothing to worry about," Draco proclaimed to Hagrid. "The nasty thing loves me."
This wasn't even close to the truth. In fact, the clabbert seemed to be doing its best to get away, scrambling and pushing at Draco with its webbed hands and feet.
The whole point of Draco volunteering for this loathsome task was to impress Hagrid with his love for foul, dirty, icky beasts. He still wasn't too sure if Hagrid was a better choice than Dumbledore, but at least if the two of them paired up, Draco was smarter and would be the one in charge. But the stupid creature he was holding was going to ruin it if he didn't settle down.
In desperation, Draco let loose of just a small bit of his Veela powers. He'd been practicing control with the aid of a few house elves and he thought he had a better handle on it.
However, he must have miscalculated for Hagrid stumbled back in reaction and the entire class was looking at him with slightly glazed eyes. The good news was the clabbert immediately stopped struggling to get away. The bad news was that it started to hump Draco's arm.
"Help!" Draco screeched, looking about wildly and flapping the arm in question.
His yell seemed to wake the class and Hagrid out of their Veela induced stupor. Hagrid began attempting to pry the clabbert off of Malfoy.
"Hush now. Won' let anyone hurt yer," Hagrid assured the extremely busy creature.
"Anyone hurt him?" Draco repeated, insulted at the lack of concern for the state of his arm.
"Draco, you Veela slut!" a female voice rang out.
Turning his head, he spied Millicent Bulstrode bearing down on him.
"I know what you did," she accused. "You're trying to lure Hagrid with your Veela powers. Well, I won't let you do it. He's mine!" Millicent kicked Draco hard in the shins.
"Ow!" he shouted.
"I've waited years for him to get over that French tart. I'm not going to lose him to you." She kicked him a second time.
"Oh, crap!" Draco gasped at the pain.
This, Draco decided was hell. No, it was worse. Hell hadn't come up with a torment yet that compared with having a green creature trying to procreate with his arm while Millicent kicked the living shit out of him. Hagrid, the oaf, wasn't doing a thing to help him, either.
Millicent kicked him a third time and he nearly stumbled, causing a new dread to seize him. If he were to lose his balance and fall to the ground, what foul thing would be done to him in a more vulnerable state? And what would the clabbert do?
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted.
Millicent stiffened as Potter's spell hit her. When she fell over backwards and hit the ground, the earth shook.
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted again.
The clabbert dropped from Draco's arm. Hagrid caught it in his hands, then pulled it close to his chest to cradle it.
Draco stared at his savior. Potter was standing there, the arm that held his wand was still stretched out, the breeze was blowing his hair away from his face, exposing the lightning scar, and his eyes were glinting dangerously. For a moment, Draco thought he looked like an avenging angel. In fact, as he stared at Potter, he could have sworn he heard music in the background.
Turning around he realised he had heard music. Hagrid was crooning nonsense to the stunned clabbert.
Potter strode forward. "You all right, Malfoy?"
"I'm perfectly fine."
The boy in front of him seemed skeptical.
Draco straightened up and looked down his nose at Potter. Since they were nearly the same height, he had to stand on his tiptoes to do so. "If you hadn't interfered, I would have handled everything."
"My apologies. I just don't like the idea of someone else doing to you what I want to do," Harry said quietly.
"You have no reason to be jealous. There's more than enough of me to go around for everyone to kick."
Smiling, Harry leaned forward and whispered in Draco's ear, "It wasn't Millicent I was jealous of."
Before Draco could respond to Potter's audacious statement Hagrid approached.
"Don't understand what happened," Hagrid said, stroking the clabbert that was now whimpering in his arms.
"Lesser creatures seem to be attracted to me," Draco said haughtily, while eyeing Potter.
"Don't think that's it." Hagrid shook his head, still puzzled. "Yer may be part Veela, but yer no Vincent Crabbe."
* * *
"I can positively claim that if it's a physical aspect of Dumbledore that is attracting me to him, it is definitely not the beard."
Vince and Greg, sitting next to Draco in the Great Hall at dinner, nodded in agreement.
"If it isn't the beard, maybe it's the glasses," Vince suggested.
"McGonagall wears glasses," Greg added brightly.
A platter of mashed turnips fell on Goyle's head. Loyal minion or not, some things could not go unpunished.
What Draco tries to say to Dumbledore.
*I'm rich, beautiful, and abhor lemons.
**I'm currently working on a timeturner so I can go back and murder my Veela ancestor.
Chapter 4
Author's Note: Diggle and Figg are both members of the Order of the Phoenix.
"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you here," Dumbledore said to Draco, who sat stiffly in a chair across from his desk.
At dinner that night, Dumbledore had approached him and suggested they take their relationship to the next level. Draco had calmly nodded and agreed to meet in an hour.
Then, after the Headmaster had left, he'd attempted to drown himself in his pumpkin juice.
This had caused Potter to rush over to the Slytherin table and try to give Draco mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It had taken Draco several minutes to convince the stupid git that mouth-to-mouth wasn't necessary. Potter hadn't even done it right, either. Even an idiot knew that tongues weren't involved.
The fact remained that "taking their relationship to the next level" was not something Draco wanted to hear. It was the phrase he always used when he was trying to get in someone's pants. Draco really didn't want Dumbledore in his pants.
Please God, Draco silently prayed. Please don't let Dumbledore do anything to me. And, if he does, please please let him keep his clothes on. Or have mercy and strike me blind.
"Seeing how we are to become a couple, I believe we need to come to an understanding."
If you just let me get out of here with my pureblood ass still pure, relatively speaking, that is, I promise I'll be good, God. Okay, maybe not good, but I won't be bad. Not too bad, anyway. Oh, damn, it, I'm doomed, aren't I?
"Thus, I must ask you, Mister Malfoy, to listen closely and think well before replying."
If you save me, I promise I'll stop buying all the green scarves I see simply because I think they'll look better on me than anyone else in the world, even if it is the truth. I'll give away twenty of my oldest combs to those who really need them, like Potter. I'll even give away half of my shoes. I mean I'll give away half of the pairs of shoes I own, not give away all of the right or all of the left ones because that would be ridiculous."
Dumbledore leaned across the desk and spoke slowly and clearly. "Diggle. Figg."
Draco's heart began to pound. Diggle fig? What the hell was a diggle fig?
There was no doubt about it. Dumbledore was completely mental. Barmy. An absolute nut job.
Nut job or not, the Headmaster was waiting for some sort of reply and Draco hadn't the slightest idea what to say. Especially since saying the wrong thing might result in clothes being removed.
His mind racing, he stared at the floor. It didn't look as if God was going to save him so at least he didn't have to give away half his shoes. He liked shoes. The ones he was wearing were especially nice. They were shiny and... And it came to Draco what he could say. When he was young, a house elf named Dobby would bathe him every night. Dobby was crazy, even by house elf standards. A prime example of his craziness was that when he scrubbed Draco's toes, he'd call them by a pet name - tweedle dinkums. Tweedle dinkums was about as ridiculous as diggle fig.
"Tweedle dinkums," Draco said in triumph.
Dumbledore's eyes widened and Draco held his breath. Then a smile spread across Dumbledore's face.
"Excellent, Mister Malfoy. Most excellent."
Draco released his breath and began to relax when a thought struck him. He was going to have to give away half of his shoes, after all.
Damn.
* * *
"Your side is going down, Malfoy."
Draco twisted his head and studied each of his shoulders for a moment. They appeared to be level so once more the Weasel was talking nonsense.
The redhead stood next to the Slytherin table waving a copy of The Daily Prophet while Potter stood next to him, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
"What is it this time, Weasel? If you're selling used newspapers to raise the money to save your family hovel from impending foreclosure, then I can only say ha ha."
Instead of responding, Weasley held the paper in front of him and began to read.
"Last night, Aurors raided the homes of Stanley K. Tweedle and Elmus P. Dinkums after a mysterious source named them as members of He-Who-Can-Not-Be-Named's secret organization. At first they denied any involvement, but investigators found in their possession masks known to be worn by members and each sported a distinctive mark on their arms. Additionally, Mr. Dinkums owned a copy of Eating Death for Dummies, Version Two, and Chaos in Ten Easy Steps, But We're Not Telling In What Order."
"And what has that to do with me?" Draco asked.
"Everyone knows your family supports You-Know-Who."
"That is a nasty rumour started by people who are jealous of our truly sickening amount of wealth and our natural good looks."
"You Malfoys are so full of shit," Ron shouted.
Draco jumped to his feet. "That's a foul lie. Malfoys do not shit."
Everyone within hearing distance turned to look at Draco, whose face flushed slightly. Even the Slytherins seemed incredulous.
"Malfoys don't shit?" Pansy asked, disbelievingly.
"Of course not. Animals shit. People defecate. Malfoys evacuate their bowels."
The hall went quiet, which was why everyone heard Harry sigh, "He's so cute."
"The term is devastatingly beautiful, Potter," Draco said scornfully. "Please remember it for future use."
"Anyway, the shit remark was figurative," Weasley mumbled. "Not literal."
"Oh," Draco said.
After the pair left, Vince turned to Draco. "You know, I've heard that Dumbledore was a Gryffindor."
"So?" Draco arched an eyebrow. He'd practiced that move all of first year and was quite proud of it.
"Maybe you want your mate to be a Gryffindor," Vince continued.
"Are you actually suggesting that I choose Weasley for a mate?" Draco shook his head vehemently. "Never. The whole clan is covered with spots."
"Spots?" Vince frowned for a moment. "Those aren't spots, those are freckles."
"Exactly. Freckles. I refuse to touch a Weasley because I might catch freckles."
"Freckles aren't contagious."
Draco lowered his voice. "That's what they want you to think."
Greg leaned forward and joined the conversation. "If you don't want Weasley, there's always Longbottom. Did you see him the other day when his potion exploded all over him? The way it dripped down that torso of his, running down his chest, past those abs, then onto his-"
"Stop!" Draco shouted. "For the love of God, humanity, puppies, and my poor ears which I will rip off and burn if you continue, please stop!"
He put his face in his hands for a moment. His father had told him that he had one week and only one week to find a suitable substitute mate and time was running out. Slowly he raised his head to look at his friends.
"Weasley it is," Draco said, feeling as if he were pronouncing his own impending death.
Chapter 5
Draco was leaning against the corridor wall, waiting, as the trio exited Potions later that day.
"Why you..." Weasley grabbed him by his robes, thrusting his face forward until their noses almost met. "Because of you, you worm, Snape gave me detention. Those newt eyes you threw into my cauldron caused it to explode and cost Gryffindor twenty points!"
So far, Draco noticed, this courtship was going just as well as all of the others.
Greg and Vince, further down the hallway, came to attention, unsure if they should interfere, but he waved them off.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Weasley. I didn't mean for the newt eyes to go into your potion," Draco said, yanking out of Ron's grip that had loosened in shock when he'd heard the apology. He pressed the wrinkles out of his robes, then gave Weasley a smile. "I meant for them to go into Potter's."
"Does that mean I get to press Malfoy against the wall?" Harry asked, hopefully.
"Honestly, Harry," Granger huffed out. She shook her head at him before turning her gaze upon Draco and Ron. "You should leave him alone, Ron. I'm Head Girl and I don't want to be forced to take more points from you."
Still glaring, Ron backed off. "I hate you, Malfoy."
"Then we're in agreement, as I hate you too. But that's not what I wanted to speak with you about. I have come to plight my troth."
Draco was faced with three mouths that had dropped open in shock. He noticed that Granger's teeth really did look much better than they had years ago.
"W-W-What?" Ron stuttered.
"I'm asking you to be my mate. I find myself-" Draco stopped and scowled. "Oh do cease whimpering, Potter, I'm trying to discuss something with the Weasel."
"Weasel!" Ron exploded. "If you're interested in me like... like that, shouldn't you at least try to be nice to me?"
"Me nice to you?" Draco scoffed. "That will be the day."
"If you think that I would even consider marrying an abominable-"
"Ron," Hermione said.
"Arrogant-"
"Ron," Hermione tried again.
"Arse-kissing-"
"Ron!" This time she grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him down the hall, Harry following at their heels.
"I didn't even finish all the insults that start with the letter 'A'," Ron protested.
Draco pretended to study his nails as he attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation. He couldn't hear much, though. At one point there was a loud "No bloody way!" from Weasley. As Hermione argued, Potter was nodding his head, encouraging her, while looking at Weasley as if he were starving and Ron had the very last tart in the entire world.
Maybe... maybe now would be a good time to zap Weasley with his Veela powers, Draco thought.
He glanced around the dark dungeons, past Greg and Vince, but saw that there were no other students nearby. Letting out a sigh of relief that he wouldn't be rolled over by enthralled first years, he released a little bit of his Veela powers.
To his disgust a rat that had been skulking along the edge of the corridor slammed into his leg. It wasn't even a normal rat either, but some disgusting, deformed thing with a silver paw.
He kicked at it, sending the rat slamming into the wall. It lay there for a moment before slowly dragging itself away.
Draco was considering using a slightly stronger dose of his Veela powers when Hermione and Harry walked back to him, tugging a reluctant Ron between them.
"Well?" Draco asked. "Will you be my mate and make me probably the most miserable Veela in the world?"
"I-I-I." Ron looked pleadingly at Hermione for a moment before swallowing hard. "I'll allow you to woo me."
Draco brightened. "You will?"
"On one condition," Ron added. "Since you're a Slytherin and have absolutely no idea how to court a Gryffindor, before you do anything to me you have to run it by Harry first."
"What! You expect me to discuss my wooing techniques with Potter?"
"No, not just discuss it. When I say I want things run by Harry, I mean it. Especially things like kisses and touches and stuff."
"And why should I do that!" Draco yelled.
"Because... because..." Ron appeared stymied and glanced over at Hermione for help.
"Because Harry knows just how Ron likes things," Hermione claimed. She flicked her hair back from her face. "All Gryffindors know things like that about each other. What do you think we do all those nights that you Slytherins spend creating evil plots, anyway? Studying? Playing Exploding Snap? Ha!"
Draco stared at Hermione, completely stunned by this pronouncement. "I thought the Hufflepuffs were the only house that had group orgies."
"I wish I'd been sorted into Gryffindor," Greg muttered.
Hermione pushed Harry forward. "Now you go with Draco," she encouraged. "Make sure he figures out everything. And I do mean Everything."
Potter smiled eagerly at Draco. "I think we should get to work as soon as possible, don't you?"
Maybe Dumbledore wasn't such a bad choice after all, Draco thought.
* * *
"No, you're wrong," Vince declared. "I remember vividly the day Honeydukes started selling sugar-coated, chocolate-covered, jelly-filled biscuits. I ate two dozen of them and was dreadfully sick. When Snape gave me that potion for my stomach, I threw up all over him."
"No, you threw up all over Snape the day you bet Theodore that you could eat one hundred chocolate frogs," Greg reminded him.
"I threw up on Snape both days," argued Vince.
Harry was walking a little faster than the rest. "Fascinating conversations, your friends have," Harry said to Draco as he stopped in front of the portion of dungeon wall that led to the Slytherin rooms.
Instead of replying, Draco looked at him suspiciously. "How did you know that this is the entrance to Slytherin?"
"I've known for a while," Harry replied. "In second year Ron and I used polyjuice to turn into copies of your minions and you led us right into the common room."
Draco glared at Vince and Greg. "Did you know about this?"
The two shook their heads.
"It was Christmas," Harry said helpfully. When they still looked blank, he added, "You would've woken up together naked in a broom closet."
Vince shrugged. "Oh, like that's supposed to help us remember. Like that hasn't happened to us dozens of times."
Harry stared at him, then at Goyle. Finally he looked at Draco, an unspoken question in his eyes.
"No, Potter. It's never happened to me. I have never awakened naked in a closet with someone."
Greg cleared his throat. "What about that one time-"
"We agreed never to speak of that again," Draco warned.
"I think it's just one of those weird things that happens at Hogwarts," Vince interjected. "Like the moving staircases." He said the password and entered the Slytherin rooms.
Harry was about to follow when Greg grabbed at his arm.
"Owe you and Weasley a lot for giving me that idea." Greg winked and went through the doorway.
"You know," Harry said slowly, "I used to think the two of them were pretty scary - they were both so huge, but now that I've talked to them..."
"They're scarier." Draco supplied.
Harry nodded.
Draco preened. He loved having the scariest minions at Hogwarts.
Chapter 6
"First of all, we should make a list of things you and Ron can talk about."
Draco could not believe that he'd actually allowed Potter into his room because he was beginning to suspect that the git had bugs or perhaps a nasty rash. Every time Potter looked at where Draco lay across his bed, he twitched.
"You really think I want to talk to Weasley? Please. I'm not interested in anything that idiot has to say."
"Then maybe we should think of things you and Ron could do together."
"You mean like going around hitting or hexing people? Or causing malicious damage to people and property? Or perhaps rubbing it in people's faces that they can never be as rich or as beautiful as I am?"
"I was thinking more like Quidditch," Harry mumbled.
Draco stared at him. "You are aware that the last time Slytherin played Quidditch against Gryffindor it resulted in an all-out melee. If I remember correctly, you had to pull Weasley off of me." He frowned for a moment, recalling something else. "Then you attacked me."
Harry blushed. "Oh. Right."
"It really wasn't very sporting of you, Potter. There I was, on the ground, defenseless, and you jumped on top of me."
Harry's face turned redder.
"Though I was a little surprised that instead of punching me you seemed to be trying to push my body into the ground using yours."
"Can we change the subject?" Harry squeaked.
"And you really shouldn't stick your wand in your trouser pocket during Quidditch."
"Kissing!" Harry shouted.
Draco blinked. "What?"
"You and Ron. There'll be kissing. Even if you don't plan to do it often, you'll have to kiss him at the ceremony."
"I suppose we must." Draco pushed off from the bed and approached Potter. "How does Weasley like it?"
Potter seemed to having difficulty breathing. "Um... not too wet. But with tongues."
"I can do that," Draco said, and then reached for Harry, who quickly took off his glasses and placed them in his pocket.
With his hands on Potter's shoulders, he drew them closer together. When their lips met, Draco heard Potter let out a soft sound of need and want. Large hands clasped his waist.
It occurred to Draco that Potter was quite good at this activity. The tongue in his mouth wasn't intrusive, but tantalizing, making him want more. He tilted his head and moved his hands down to a well-defined chest.
For a moment, their lips parted as they sucked in a breath before meeting again, this time harder and deeper. The hands at his waist slid behind him, then down until they were cupping his arse.
Draco pulled back. "I think..." His voice was barely discernable from a moan.
"Hmm?" Harry murmured, lowering his mouth to the skin on Draco's throat.
"I think that I should just buy him stuff," Draco replied and took another step back, breaking away from Potter's embrace.
Potter looked at him for a moment, mouth hanging open. "What?"
"Weasley isn't used to the finer things in life. Instead of talking or doing things or kissing, I should simply use my wealth in an effort to purchase his affections."
"That wouldn't...." Harry's voice trailed off and he put his head in his hands. "Yeah, that'd probably do it."
"And you thought my wooing techniques needed work. Clearly, I am the Master."
"Only a Master of Evil," Harry intoned.
"Well," Draco said after a brief moment of confusion at Potter's utter weirdness, "I can't argue with that."
* * *
"Wow." Ron gazed at the heap of candy boxes around him. "Wow," he said again
"I ordered them from this little Wizard confectionary shop in Switzerland, just for you."
Weasley tore open a box and stuffed a chocolate into his mouth. "This is really good," he mumbled around the mouthful.
"As my mate, I fully intend to see that you have the best of everything." Draco scooted closer. "The best chocolates..." His hand ran over the sleeve of the faded robe Ron wore. "The best clothes."
Harry let out a small growl, which both Ron and Draco ignored.
"Really?" Ron asked, grinning madly.
"Absolutely," Draco promised. "Also, I thought we might take a little trip to Diagon Alley together to pick out your wedding present." He leaned forward until their faces were only a few inches apart. "How would you like the best broom available?"
"I'd love it!"
"Ron!" Hermione said sharply.
"Ron! Harry said, glaring at him.
Ron looked at his friends and his smile faded for a moment before brightening again. "You wouldn't consider getting me the broom as an engagement present instead, would you?" he asked Draco, before turning to Hermione. "It is okay to keep presents from broken engagements, right?"
As Hermione explained to a disappointed Ron that in the case of a broken engagement, one should return all presents, Draco glanced at Potter. He wondered why the prat was staring at him as if he couldn't decide whether to kill him or kiss him. He hoped Harry decided against killing him. After all, he had a wedding to prepare for.
* * *
"I think it's time we finish this, once and for all," Harry snarled and pushed Draco so hard that he fell back onto his bed.
He wished Potter would just tell him what he'd done wrong. All through dinner he'd fussed and fumed whenever Draco had leaned close to the Weasel. And grabbing him by the robes and dragging him out of the Great Hall when he'd offered to lick a smear of chocolate off of Weasley's face was definitely over-reacting.
As Draco watched, Potter pulled off his shoes and socks.
"What do you mean - finish this?" Draco asked.
Potter yanked his robe over his head then took a predatory step closer. "It's time we work on the wedding night."
Gulping, Draco scooted farther back on the bed. "I think it might be better if you just tell me what he likes."
In a flash, Harry reached out and captured one of Draco's wrists. "I think I'll do both. Have you ever heard of a Muggle classroom activity called show and tell?" he asked huskily.
Draco shook his head.
Harry grinned wickedly. "Then allow me to demonstrate."
Scanning the room, Harry's eyes lit upon the oval cheval mirror that Draco had standing in the corner. He tugged Draco over to it, and then stood behind him.
"I don't think Ron would like you to be fully dressed. Your clothes create far too many obstacles." Harry's hands reached around and began to undo Draco's robes, lightly brushing against his chest as he did so. When it was loosened sufficiently, Harry released his hold on the robe so that it pooled around Draco's feet.
Fingers rose and tripped across Draco's collar. "You're wearing a Slytherin tie," Harry whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver. "Ron doesn't like Slytherin, so that will definitely have to go, as well." A moment later, the tie joined the robe on the floor.
Harry was pressed against his back now. Draco attempted to lean forward but arms wrapped around his waist and he was pulled backwards. He could feel lips moving along the back of his neck.
"You're still much too formal. Ron goes for the casual look. I think we need to undo a few of those buttons.
Expecting Potter to work from his collar of his shirt down, Draco sucked in a shaky breath when his shirt was opened at the waist. In the mirror, he watched in fascination as hands slipped inside and began to caress his skin.
His eyes searched the mirror for Potter's. He found them staring back at him hungrily. The moistness of breath ghosted over him as he saw Potter move his head closer. When a tongue flicked into his ear, he shuddered, all the while watching Potter watch him.
A hardness pressed against his bottom and he wanted to push back against it. Increase that wonderful friction that he couldn't seem to get enough of.
This couldn't be happening. It wasn't Potter that was supposed to create these feelings. It was supposed to be... Draco tried to focus on retrieving the name of his potential mate. It was that redhead, the one with the raggedy robes - Weasley, that was it.
"I'm going to touch you," Potter whispered. "And everywhere I touch you with my hands, I'm later going to touch with my mouth."
Draco closed his eyes and tried to imagine that it was Weasley behind him. His entire body paid no attention to the thought and continued to writhe against Potter. He let out a small whimper.
"Don't worry," Harry murmured in his ear. "I won't hurt you."
Harry proceeded to make a liar out of himself by nipping at the earlobe next to his mouth and causing Draco's eyes to snap back open.
He'd never thought that Potter could make him feel like this. But Potter wasn't the one for him. He was just doing this as a favor, to show Draco what his friend liked.
In the mirror, his eyes followed as if entranced the path of a hand as it began to move lower. It paused at the waistband of his trousers, teasing the fastening for a moment before continued downward. When it brushed over the bulge in Draco's pants, he let out a low groan.
Harry laid small kisses along the line of his jaw. "You're going to like this. You're going to like it sooo much."
That was the problem. He was enjoying it far too much already. It wasn't supposed to be Potter. Not Potter. And if he suspected that Draco was thinking of him instead of Weasley, he might do something absolutely horrible. Something incredibly horrible. Like stop.
With sheer determination, Draco opened his mouth slightly and hissed out, "Weeeaasel,"
Harry leapt away from him, eyes wide. "W-What?"
Draco had never realised how the absence of something, in this case Potter's body on his, could make him ache. He had to get those wonderful feelings back.
"You are doing this to show me what the moron likes, right? Come back and show me some more."
Harry's face flushed an angry red and he moved away to retrieve his socks and shoes and put them on. "This was all a mistake," he snapped. "A big mistake." He grabbed his robe off of the floor. "I hope you and Ron will be very happy together."
Potter was leaving? He couldn't be, could he?
Harry stalking to the door seemed to prove that Draco was wrong. That he was, in fact, leaving.
Draco had to stop him. Drawing up every bit of Veela power he had, he focused it on Harry.
Thud! There was the sound of a body hitting the other side of the door. Several more thuds followed. Then even more thuds. The wood was shuddering and the doorknob was rattling. There was the scritch, scritch noise of fingernails scraping, desperately trying to get in.
Harry slowly turned to face Draco. "Are you trying to use your Veela powers on me?"
"Yes," Draco answered, frustrated. "Why isn't it working?"
"I'll tell you why it's not working, if you first tell me why you don't want me to leave."
Draco's lower lip stuck out in a pout and he saw Potter eye it for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping closer.
"Tell me," urged Potter.
"I liked what you were doing. I didn't want you to stop."
"But Ron's who you asked to be your mate," Harry said, narrowing the space between them.
"I've decided that I don't want him. I want you for my mate." Draco glared at Harry. "Now tell me why my Veela powers of attraction don't work on you."
"That's easy," Harry smiled. "Because I'm already attracted to you. I've been attracted to you for a while"
"Oh." Draco thought about that for a moment. "And how do you feel about Vince Crabbe?"
"What about him?"
Draco grinned.
* * *
A few minutes later, between exchanging kisses as they lay on his bed, Draco was struck by a thought.
"You are so very lucky that you're involved with me," Draco said to Harry. "Well, mostly you're fortunate because it is me, but you're also lucky because if I hadn't taken the initiative, we never would've got together."
Draco had always wanted to have the power to make someone scream in bed. He didn't think this was quite the same thing, however.
* * *
Vince and Greg had managed to sort out the first, second, and third year Slytherin students that had piled up outside of Draco's door. Pansy and Blaise had worked on the group of students in front of the patch of dungeon wall that led to the Slytherin rooms.
Now Vince and Greg stood next to Draco's door, attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation within.
"Have they solved all their problems?" Vince asked. Greg was much better at listening through walls, having perfected the technique in third-year.
Suddenly they could hear Draco shouting.
"I don't care what you say. I will not have pervy bird sex with Fawkes."
Greg turned to Vince. "I think they still have a few more issues to work out."
Epilogue
Greg and Vince sat on a bench in the courtyard trying to decide what to do with themselves now that Draco had found his mate and didn't need them anymore. They were at the point where they had almost decided to become slavishly devoted to Professor Snape when a scream rang out.
Suddenly, Draco came running out of Hogwarts, the ends of his robe flying out behind him as he ran in panic.
A few seconds later, Mrs. Norris rushed past them in hot pursuit. Filch was at her heels.
At last Harry bounded out of Hogwarts.
"How's Draco's Veela power training going?" Greg asked.
"Not so good," Harry replied, as he raced past.
Vince and Greg watched as Potter ran after Draco to save him from the affections of Mrs. Norris and Filch.
"I'd better be going," Greg said, standing up and brushing himself off.
Vince looked confused. "Going? Where? Why?"
Greg smiled. "Somewhere in Hogwarts is a powerful Wizard, with a beard, who wears glasses, and used to be a Gryffindor. Recently his mate has abandoned him for someone else. I do believe that he might be amenable to an offer of comfort sex.
As Greg left, Vince wondered if Dumbledore had the slightest idea what was in store for him.
The End
Also - thank you to the amazing people on my flist who gave me feedback and encouraged me in this bit of silliness.
Title: The Obligatory 'Draco is a Veela' Story that Every HP Fanfiction Author has to Write
Author: mahaliem
Rating: Teen
Summary: Draco is part Veela. Unhappy with his chosen mate, he searches for a substitute.
Chapter 1
The summer before seventh year, Lucius told Draco that he was part Veela. He also informed him that this was the age when his powers of attraction should be manifesting. Draco had suspected something was up when he was continuingly forced to pull house elves off of his body. He would be walking through the manor when... Splat... a house elf would be stuck to his leg. This was no fun. At least for him. The house elves didn't seem to mind.
When his father told him he was part Veela, Draco had a number of questions.
"Father, will I become even more devastatingly beautiful than I already am?"
"Yes."
"Will I become so devastatingly beautiful that men and women will fall to the ground begging for the honour of me tromping upon them?"
"Yes."
"Will I be as devastatingly beautiful as you?"
"You wish."
His father warned him that because he was part Veela, he would have to be very careful when it came to mates. He would find himself drawn to an individual and he would have little choice as to who that individual was. The mate would even be able to control him, if they so desired.
Fortunately, as he was also part wizard, there was one tiny loophole. If the mate was not to his liking, he would be able to find a substitute mate. The catch was that he would have to find a suitable substitute mate within one week. Otherwise, he would be linked to the original mate for life.
Draco nodded his head, pretending to listen, but was instead imagining all the wonderful sex he'd be having in the near future.
It took Draco quite a bit of practice, but he was soon able to control his powers to the point that house elves no longer attached themselves to parts of his body. Although this did not sit well with the house elves, there was nothing they could do.
* * *
Upon returning to Hogwarts with visions of orgies dancing nakedly in his head, Draco was immediately greeted with a strange sensation. Something, some wild yearning was pulling him to the Great Hall where everyone was assembling for the annual sorting.
"It's the call of your mate," Vince Crabbe explained to him.
"How do you know?" Draco asked.
"I'm part Veela, myself."
Draco stared at Vince.
"But you probably realised that, didn't you?"
Draco continued to stare.
"I knew," Greg Goyle volunteered, while gazing longingly at Vince.
Vince smiled at him indulgently, then returned his attention to Draco. "Last spring I found my mate. He's the owner of Honeydukes." At Draco's questioningly look, Vince sighed. "Didn't your father explain that your mate would possess some quality that would attract you?"
He thought for a moment. Father might have said something like that, but Draco had been busy planning how to use his powers on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
"You're saying that my mate is in there?" Draco indicated the Great Hall with a jerk of his head and Vince nodded.
Who could my mate be? Draco wondered at he entered. The sensation grew stronger. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him. With his eyes still closed he moved forward, drawn by the presence of his mate.
Unfortunately, with his eyes closed, he didn't get very far. After bumping into a several students, he commanded, "Greg, Vince, clear the way for me." He could now hear cries and thumps as people and furniture were pushed out of his way as he walked further into the hall.
At last he felt his mate's presence nearby and a shiver ran through his body. This would be the person he belonged with. The one soul throughout the world that matched perfectly with his. The person with whom he would spend the rest of his life.
Opening his eyes, he let out a gasp.
No. It couldn't be. Not him. Anyone but him.
Draco's eyes met the eyes of his mate. Eyes that seemed to be twinkling.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said.
Draco screamed.
* * *
"How did it go?" Greg asked, leading a shaky Draco to the leather couch in the Slytherin common room.
At the end of the feast, Dumbledore had requested for Draco to follow him to his office to discuss matters. That had been an hour before and he'd just returned from the meeting.
"It was awful." His voice was rough and hoarse. "The man is insane."
"What did he do?" Vince seated himself next to Draco on the couch.
"First he plied me with sweets. Many, many sweets. He kept offering them to me and since he is my mate and has power over me, I felt obliged to take them. All of them." Draco let out a wail. "If this keeps up I will soon be fat and spotty. I don't want to be fat and spotty. I want to continue to be devastatingly beautiful."
"Don't worry," Vince said, patting Draco's back in a way that was supposed to comfortingly but was so hard it almost sent him sprawling to the floor. "You're a Veela. You will always be devastatingly beautiful even if you are fat and spotty."
Unfortunately, this advice did not console Draco in the least.
"Dumbledore's old. I was hoping to have hot wild sex with various young studs. But he's old and wrinkly. His bits are probably old and wrinkly, too."
"Think of all the experience he must have," Greg advised.
Draco's stomach lurched. "I'd rather not." He glanced around the common room to see if anyone was listening. They probably all were, but he wanted to make sure that they heard the next piece of news so he spoke a bit louder. "He's also a pervert."
"We all knew that," Pansy exclaimed from where she'd been sitting, pretending to read, on the other side of the room. "He's the most powerful wizard next to the Dark Lord and what does he decide to do with his life? Run a school. He must be a pervert."
"Yes, but you have no idea of how truly perverted he is," Draco stated. "You know he keeps that great big bloody bird in his office, right? Draco lowered his voice again and most of those in the common room leaned in closer in order to hear better. "Dumbledore said that after we were mated and my loyalty was assured he wanted me to join with it."
"No!" Pansy gasped.
"He did." Draco nodded emphatically. To tell the truth, he hadn't been paying much attention. His brain had been occupied with running around and screaming like a little girl that he didn't want to mate with the Headmaster and please please please don't let Dumbledore decide to have his wicked, wicked way with him. But he had definitely heard the words Phoenix and joining.
"Evidently there's an entire group having pervy bird sex with Fawkes," Draco confessed.
There was silence in the Slytherin common room as they all came to realise that despite their collective desire to be the baddest of the bad, they were all horribly overwhelmingly outdone.
"Well," said Greg slowly, "it is a nice looking bird."
Chapter 2
"Are you sure about this?" Greg asked.
"Absolutely." Draco poured the potion he'd just finished making into a vial. "I am clearly searching for a mate who is a more powerful wizard than I. Therefore, when seeking a substitute mate, I must find someone who also holds that position."
The students finished up and were filing out of the classroom, both Vince and Greg gave him encouraging nods as they left. Draco wished everyone would hurry. This was going to be difficult to do and he certainly didn't want an audience. When Potter stopped next to him, Draco huffed out a breath.
"What do you want?"
"I was wondering if you understood today's lesson," Potter managed to stammer.
"Of course."
"Would you consider explaining it to me? Maybe in the library after dinner?"
Was Potter asking him for a study date? Draco looked closely at Potter's head, searching for an injury. With all that messy hair, though, it was quite hard to tell.
"I would rather hold hands with a first-year Hufflepuff and go skipping into the Forbidden Forest together."
Potter's brow furrowed. "Is that a no?"
Rolling his eyes, Draco replied, "Yes."
"Then it's yes?" asked Potter.
"No!" Draco shouted.
"Which is it? Yes or no?" Potter appeared completely perplexed.
In frustration, Draco growled and grabbed Potter by his robe and pushed him back against the desk behind him. Instead of fighting him, however, Potter smiled widely.
"Or we could forget about the library altogether," he murmured as Draco pressed against him.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," snarled Snape, coming up the aisle towards the pair. He glared at Potter as he continued. "For conduct unbecoming of a student of Hogwarts."
Draco stepped away, pleased, anticipating some sort of sputtering outrage from Potter. But the boy surprised him again by simply acknowledging Snape with a nod. He then moved past Draco so closely that their bodies brushed.
"See you around, Malfoy" he murmured as he went by.
Draco followed his progression until he was out the door, staring intently. No, there was no way one could determine the extent of whatever head injury Potter was sporting.
Dismissing the matter, he turned toward Snape. "Professor, I wish to speak to you about my being a Veela."
"Oh, joy," Snape muttered.
Wow. He'd heard rumours that Snape could read minds, but hadn't believed it until now. Snape must know what was about to happen.
"As you are undoubtedly aware, I am part Veela. Additionally, it has been determined that Dumbledore is my mate."
Draco heard a strange sort of snorting sound and shot a glance at Snape's face. He saw that Snape's hand was covering his mouth. Obviously, he'd been coughing.
"Have you informed your father of this news?" Snape asked.
"Not yet."
"Please let me know when you intend to do so. I would be more than happy to accompany you home so that you may tell Lucius that Dumbledore will soon be his son-in-law. I might even borrow that Creevey creature's contraption to record the moment for posterity."
"Actually, I was thinking that might not be necessary. As you may also know, because I am part Wizard, I can choose a substitute mate." The smirk dropped from Snape's face.
Smiling, Draco stepped closer. Snape, eyeing him warily, moved back.
"I choose you," Draco stated as he closed the distance between them again.
There was no whoop of delight. No loud cry of triumph in the wake of this announcement. In fact, Snape had gone quite still, his eyes wide. Draco decided that he'd been struck dumb by his stroke of good fortune.
"Professor Snape," he said, worriedly. "I know this news has overwhelmed you, but please try to breathe. I do prefer that my mate be alive."
Draco wondered if he would be forced to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and then wondered how to do it when the victim was still in an upright position.
Fortunately, Snape sucked in a breath. Unfortunately, when it came out of him again it was in the form of words.
"Mister Malfoy, I must tell you that I am not attracted to males. I am, however, quite curious as to exactly what I did to make you think that I would welcome your advances. Enlighten me - is it my careful attention to grooming?" Snape flung his greasy hair back from his face. "My innate sense of style?" He flapped the sides of his severe black robes then leaned closer so that his face was mere inches away from Draco's. "Or perhaps it was my sensitive manner?"
This was so not going according to plan. In desperation, Draco unleashed his Veela powers of attraction.
Snape looked surprised, but the only move he made was to step out of the way as a first-year student sailed in from the hallway to attach herself to Draco's leg. As Draco reined in his powers and struggled to get the little Ravenclaw off of him, Snape smiled cruelly.
"My compliments, Mister Malfoy. Your Veela powers are quite strong, but I'm afraid that they aren't nearly enough. Despite all of your various charms..." Snape let his gaze drift down Draco's body and then leisurely drift back up, "... I must decline this honour."
Snape was stalking back to the front of his classroom when he spun and faced Draco once more. "You may be part Veela, Mister Malfoy, but you are certainly no Vincent Crabbe."
* * *
"It didn't work?" Greg asked at dinner that night.
Draco aimed a spell at the glass of pumpkin juice next to Potter's plate, creating a hairline crack in the side. "I had no idea Snape was straight," he said.
"He is? That's a shocker."
"Who are you going to try next? McGonagall?" Vince asked, between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.
Valiantly, Draco tamped down the desire to hit his friend with the serving platter of carrots in retaliation for that particular suggestion. "No. At least the Headmaster's a male. The point is to improve on Dumbledore, not make it worse."
"I don't know about that. The woman's got a great pair of pins on her," Greg said, reaching for another serving of chicken.
Draco and Vince turned to stare at him.
"What?" asked Greg.
"Sometimes you worry me, Goyle," Draco replied.
At the Gryffindor table, Potter started to take a drink and a trickle of juice spilled down upon his robes.
"I need to think of someone else." Draco idly watched as Potter's glass fractured and juice poured into his lap. Potter sprang up from his seat and tore off his now sopping robes. He then began using a napkin to try to blot some of the wetness that had leaked through. The shirt material was clinging to his chest and Draco wondered if the boy got off by exposing himself in such a blatant manner.
"Perhaps I'm not looking for a mate powerful in magic. Perhaps it's something else."
"Maybe it's something physical," Vince suggested. "Maybe you just like beards."
Draco looked at the head table where Dumbledore sat, his long beard flowing down his chest. A shiver ran down his spine as the Headmaster winked at him. He then looked further down the table.
"Oh dear God, no."
Chapter 3
"Mister Malfoy, I'm so glad you could come see me. Please, help yourself to a lemon drop."
Like he had any choice, Draco grumbled to himself. The Headmaster had requested to meet with him after dinner and so he'd found himself heading toward Dumbledore's office despite not wishing to do anything of the sort. Because he was compelled to do whatever his mate asked, he now found himself reaching for a lemon drop even though he despised the things.
Dumbledore smiled as Draco placed the sweet in his mouth. "Since we are soon to enter into a partnership with one another I find myself curious to know you better. Tell me about yourself."
"Mm mmmm, mmmmmmmmm, mmm mmmmm mmmmmm,"* Draco answered.
Mortification filled Draco. If his mother knew that he was talking with his mouth full, she would commit suicide by some socially acceptable means and be buried, just so that she could roll over in her grave. Unfortunately, he'd had no choice but to answer Dumbledore to the best of his ability.
"How marvelous," Dumbledore exclaimed. "Please have another lemon drop."
Although he tried to fight the offer, a second candy went into Draco's mouth before he'd even finished the first.
The Headmaster leaned forward. "How do feel about being part Veela and your powers?"
"Mm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mm m mmmmmmmmmm mm m mmm mm mmmm mmm mmmmmm mm mmmmm mmmmmmmm."**
"Wonderful. Wonderful. Help yourself to another lemon drop."
Draco placed a third candy into his mouth.
"Now tell me, Mister Malfoy, and this is extremely important - what is your opinion on socks?"
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Every year Draco hated Care of Magical Creatures classes. This year was no exception.
He looked at the monster in front of him and gulped. It was horrible, hairy with beady eyes and large paws that looked as if they could tear you apart. The animal Hagrid was holding appeared to be fairly dangerous, as well. It was green, with a spot in the middle of its forehead that was pulsing red.
"This fellow here," Hagrid boomed, "is called a clabbert. Who knows where yer can find clabberts?"
Granger's hand shot up and Draco sneered. "Know-it-all," he muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear but not so loudly that he'd get in trouble. It was an ability he'd perfected over the years.
"Clabberts are found in America. North America to be exact."
"Right yer are, Hermione. They live in trees there. Now who'd like to hold him?"
As a group, the entire class stepped back. Hagrid had been a most effective instructor when it came to teaching them to beware of unknown creatures.
"Come now. Not likely he'd do much damage to yer." Hagrid paused as he considered what he'd just said before adding, "Least none that can't be cured."
Almost everyone turned to look at Harry, expecting him to volunteer. Which was why it was a surprise when Draco said, "I'll do it."
He walked to the front of the class where Hagrid looked at him in shock for a moment then eyed him suspiciously.
"Yer sure about this?"
Draco nodded.
"Not planning on hurting him, are yer?"
"No," Draco said, trying hard not to roll his eyes.
"He's just a wee thing. Hasn't done yer no harm."
"Oh, for-" Draco cut off what he'd been about to say and restrained his temper. "Just give me the filthy bugger."
Still acting as if he was handing over his own flesh and blood to a known axe murderer, Hagrid placed the clabbert in Draco's arms.
"See? Nothing to worry about," Draco proclaimed to Hagrid. "The nasty thing loves me."
This wasn't even close to the truth. In fact, the clabbert seemed to be doing its best to get away, scrambling and pushing at Draco with its webbed hands and feet.
The whole point of Draco volunteering for this loathsome task was to impress Hagrid with his love for foul, dirty, icky beasts. He still wasn't too sure if Hagrid was a better choice than Dumbledore, but at least if the two of them paired up, Draco was smarter and would be the one in charge. But the stupid creature he was holding was going to ruin it if he didn't settle down.
In desperation, Draco let loose of just a small bit of his Veela powers. He'd been practicing control with the aid of a few house elves and he thought he had a better handle on it.
However, he must have miscalculated for Hagrid stumbled back in reaction and the entire class was looking at him with slightly glazed eyes. The good news was the clabbert immediately stopped struggling to get away. The bad news was that it started to hump Draco's arm.
"Help!" Draco screeched, looking about wildly and flapping the arm in question.
His yell seemed to wake the class and Hagrid out of their Veela induced stupor. Hagrid began attempting to pry the clabbert off of Malfoy.
"Hush now. Won' let anyone hurt yer," Hagrid assured the extremely busy creature.
"Anyone hurt him?" Draco repeated, insulted at the lack of concern for the state of his arm.
"Draco, you Veela slut!" a female voice rang out.
Turning his head, he spied Millicent Bulstrode bearing down on him.
"I know what you did," she accused. "You're trying to lure Hagrid with your Veela powers. Well, I won't let you do it. He's mine!" Millicent kicked Draco hard in the shins.
"Ow!" he shouted.
"I've waited years for him to get over that French tart. I'm not going to lose him to you." She kicked him a second time.
"Oh, crap!" Draco gasped at the pain.
This, Draco decided was hell. No, it was worse. Hell hadn't come up with a torment yet that compared with having a green creature trying to procreate with his arm while Millicent kicked the living shit out of him. Hagrid, the oaf, wasn't doing a thing to help him, either.
Millicent kicked him a third time and he nearly stumbled, causing a new dread to seize him. If he were to lose his balance and fall to the ground, what foul thing would be done to him in a more vulnerable state? And what would the clabbert do?
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted.
Millicent stiffened as Potter's spell hit her. When she fell over backwards and hit the ground, the earth shook.
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted again.
The clabbert dropped from Draco's arm. Hagrid caught it in his hands, then pulled it close to his chest to cradle it.
Draco stared at his savior. Potter was standing there, the arm that held his wand was still stretched out, the breeze was blowing his hair away from his face, exposing the lightning scar, and his eyes were glinting dangerously. For a moment, Draco thought he looked like an avenging angel. In fact, as he stared at Potter, he could have sworn he heard music in the background.
Turning around he realised he had heard music. Hagrid was crooning nonsense to the stunned clabbert.
Potter strode forward. "You all right, Malfoy?"
"I'm perfectly fine."
The boy in front of him seemed skeptical.
Draco straightened up and looked down his nose at Potter. Since they were nearly the same height, he had to stand on his tiptoes to do so. "If you hadn't interfered, I would have handled everything."
"My apologies. I just don't like the idea of someone else doing to you what I want to do," Harry said quietly.
"You have no reason to be jealous. There's more than enough of me to go around for everyone to kick."
Smiling, Harry leaned forward and whispered in Draco's ear, "It wasn't Millicent I was jealous of."
Before Draco could respond to Potter's audacious statement Hagrid approached.
"Don't understand what happened," Hagrid said, stroking the clabbert that was now whimpering in his arms.
"Lesser creatures seem to be attracted to me," Draco said haughtily, while eyeing Potter.
"Don't think that's it." Hagrid shook his head, still puzzled. "Yer may be part Veela, but yer no Vincent Crabbe."
* * *
"I can positively claim that if it's a physical aspect of Dumbledore that is attracting me to him, it is definitely not the beard."
Vince and Greg, sitting next to Draco in the Great Hall at dinner, nodded in agreement.
"If it isn't the beard, maybe it's the glasses," Vince suggested.
"McGonagall wears glasses," Greg added brightly.
A platter of mashed turnips fell on Goyle's head. Loyal minion or not, some things could not go unpunished.
What Draco tries to say to Dumbledore.
*I'm rich, beautiful, and abhor lemons.
**I'm currently working on a timeturner so I can go back and murder my Veela ancestor.
Chapter 4
Author's Note: Diggle and Figg are both members of the Order of the Phoenix.
"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you here," Dumbledore said to Draco, who sat stiffly in a chair across from his desk.
At dinner that night, Dumbledore had approached him and suggested they take their relationship to the next level. Draco had calmly nodded and agreed to meet in an hour.
Then, after the Headmaster had left, he'd attempted to drown himself in his pumpkin juice.
This had caused Potter to rush over to the Slytherin table and try to give Draco mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It had taken Draco several minutes to convince the stupid git that mouth-to-mouth wasn't necessary. Potter hadn't even done it right, either. Even an idiot knew that tongues weren't involved.
The fact remained that "taking their relationship to the next level" was not something Draco wanted to hear. It was the phrase he always used when he was trying to get in someone's pants. Draco really didn't want Dumbledore in his pants.
Please God, Draco silently prayed. Please don't let Dumbledore do anything to me. And, if he does, please please let him keep his clothes on. Or have mercy and strike me blind.
"Seeing how we are to become a couple, I believe we need to come to an understanding."
If you just let me get out of here with my pureblood ass still pure, relatively speaking, that is, I promise I'll be good, God. Okay, maybe not good, but I won't be bad. Not too bad, anyway. Oh, damn, it, I'm doomed, aren't I?
"Thus, I must ask you, Mister Malfoy, to listen closely and think well before replying."
If you save me, I promise I'll stop buying all the green scarves I see simply because I think they'll look better on me than anyone else in the world, even if it is the truth. I'll give away twenty of my oldest combs to those who really need them, like Potter. I'll even give away half of my shoes. I mean I'll give away half of the pairs of shoes I own, not give away all of the right or all of the left ones because that would be ridiculous."
Dumbledore leaned across the desk and spoke slowly and clearly. "Diggle. Figg."
Draco's heart began to pound. Diggle fig? What the hell was a diggle fig?
There was no doubt about it. Dumbledore was completely mental. Barmy. An absolute nut job.
Nut job or not, the Headmaster was waiting for some sort of reply and Draco hadn't the slightest idea what to say. Especially since saying the wrong thing might result in clothes being removed.
His mind racing, he stared at the floor. It didn't look as if God was going to save him so at least he didn't have to give away half his shoes. He liked shoes. The ones he was wearing were especially nice. They were shiny and... And it came to Draco what he could say. When he was young, a house elf named Dobby would bathe him every night. Dobby was crazy, even by house elf standards. A prime example of his craziness was that when he scrubbed Draco's toes, he'd call them by a pet name - tweedle dinkums. Tweedle dinkums was about as ridiculous as diggle fig.
"Tweedle dinkums," Draco said in triumph.
Dumbledore's eyes widened and Draco held his breath. Then a smile spread across Dumbledore's face.
"Excellent, Mister Malfoy. Most excellent."
Draco released his breath and began to relax when a thought struck him. He was going to have to give away half of his shoes, after all.
Damn.
* * *
"Your side is going down, Malfoy."
Draco twisted his head and studied each of his shoulders for a moment. They appeared to be level so once more the Weasel was talking nonsense.
The redhead stood next to the Slytherin table waving a copy of The Daily Prophet while Potter stood next to him, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
"What is it this time, Weasel? If you're selling used newspapers to raise the money to save your family hovel from impending foreclosure, then I can only say ha ha."
Instead of responding, Weasley held the paper in front of him and began to read.
"Last night, Aurors raided the homes of Stanley K. Tweedle and Elmus P. Dinkums after a mysterious source named them as members of He-Who-Can-Not-Be-Named's secret organization. At first they denied any involvement, but investigators found in their possession masks known to be worn by members and each sported a distinctive mark on their arms. Additionally, Mr. Dinkums owned a copy of Eating Death for Dummies, Version Two, and Chaos in Ten Easy Steps, But We're Not Telling In What Order."
"And what has that to do with me?" Draco asked.
"Everyone knows your family supports You-Know-Who."
"That is a nasty rumour started by people who are jealous of our truly sickening amount of wealth and our natural good looks."
"You Malfoys are so full of shit," Ron shouted.
Draco jumped to his feet. "That's a foul lie. Malfoys do not shit."
Everyone within hearing distance turned to look at Draco, whose face flushed slightly. Even the Slytherins seemed incredulous.
"Malfoys don't shit?" Pansy asked, disbelievingly.
"Of course not. Animals shit. People defecate. Malfoys evacuate their bowels."
The hall went quiet, which was why everyone heard Harry sigh, "He's so cute."
"The term is devastatingly beautiful, Potter," Draco said scornfully. "Please remember it for future use."
"Anyway, the shit remark was figurative," Weasley mumbled. "Not literal."
"Oh," Draco said.
After the pair left, Vince turned to Draco. "You know, I've heard that Dumbledore was a Gryffindor."
"So?" Draco arched an eyebrow. He'd practiced that move all of first year and was quite proud of it.
"Maybe you want your mate to be a Gryffindor," Vince continued.
"Are you actually suggesting that I choose Weasley for a mate?" Draco shook his head vehemently. "Never. The whole clan is covered with spots."
"Spots?" Vince frowned for a moment. "Those aren't spots, those are freckles."
"Exactly. Freckles. I refuse to touch a Weasley because I might catch freckles."
"Freckles aren't contagious."
Draco lowered his voice. "That's what they want you to think."
Greg leaned forward and joined the conversation. "If you don't want Weasley, there's always Longbottom. Did you see him the other day when his potion exploded all over him? The way it dripped down that torso of his, running down his chest, past those abs, then onto his-"
"Stop!" Draco shouted. "For the love of God, humanity, puppies, and my poor ears which I will rip off and burn if you continue, please stop!"
He put his face in his hands for a moment. His father had told him that he had one week and only one week to find a suitable substitute mate and time was running out. Slowly he raised his head to look at his friends.
"Weasley it is," Draco said, feeling as if he were pronouncing his own impending death.
Chapter 5
Draco was leaning against the corridor wall, waiting, as the trio exited Potions later that day.
"Why you..." Weasley grabbed him by his robes, thrusting his face forward until their noses almost met. "Because of you, you worm, Snape gave me detention. Those newt eyes you threw into my cauldron caused it to explode and cost Gryffindor twenty points!"
So far, Draco noticed, this courtship was going just as well as all of the others.
Greg and Vince, further down the hallway, came to attention, unsure if they should interfere, but he waved them off.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Weasley. I didn't mean for the newt eyes to go into your potion," Draco said, yanking out of Ron's grip that had loosened in shock when he'd heard the apology. He pressed the wrinkles out of his robes, then gave Weasley a smile. "I meant for them to go into Potter's."
"Does that mean I get to press Malfoy against the wall?" Harry asked, hopefully.
"Honestly, Harry," Granger huffed out. She shook her head at him before turning her gaze upon Draco and Ron. "You should leave him alone, Ron. I'm Head Girl and I don't want to be forced to take more points from you."
Still glaring, Ron backed off. "I hate you, Malfoy."
"Then we're in agreement, as I hate you too. But that's not what I wanted to speak with you about. I have come to plight my troth."
Draco was faced with three mouths that had dropped open in shock. He noticed that Granger's teeth really did look much better than they had years ago.
"W-W-What?" Ron stuttered.
"I'm asking you to be my mate. I find myself-" Draco stopped and scowled. "Oh do cease whimpering, Potter, I'm trying to discuss something with the Weasel."
"Weasel!" Ron exploded. "If you're interested in me like... like that, shouldn't you at least try to be nice to me?"
"Me nice to you?" Draco scoffed. "That will be the day."
"If you think that I would even consider marrying an abominable-"
"Ron," Hermione said.
"Arrogant-"
"Ron," Hermione tried again.
"Arse-kissing-"
"Ron!" This time she grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him down the hall, Harry following at their heels.
"I didn't even finish all the insults that start with the letter 'A'," Ron protested.
Draco pretended to study his nails as he attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation. He couldn't hear much, though. At one point there was a loud "No bloody way!" from Weasley. As Hermione argued, Potter was nodding his head, encouraging her, while looking at Weasley as if he were starving and Ron had the very last tart in the entire world.
Maybe... maybe now would be a good time to zap Weasley with his Veela powers, Draco thought.
He glanced around the dark dungeons, past Greg and Vince, but saw that there were no other students nearby. Letting out a sigh of relief that he wouldn't be rolled over by enthralled first years, he released a little bit of his Veela powers.
To his disgust a rat that had been skulking along the edge of the corridor slammed into his leg. It wasn't even a normal rat either, but some disgusting, deformed thing with a silver paw.
He kicked at it, sending the rat slamming into the wall. It lay there for a moment before slowly dragging itself away.
Draco was considering using a slightly stronger dose of his Veela powers when Hermione and Harry walked back to him, tugging a reluctant Ron between them.
"Well?" Draco asked. "Will you be my mate and make me probably the most miserable Veela in the world?"
"I-I-I." Ron looked pleadingly at Hermione for a moment before swallowing hard. "I'll allow you to woo me."
Draco brightened. "You will?"
"On one condition," Ron added. "Since you're a Slytherin and have absolutely no idea how to court a Gryffindor, before you do anything to me you have to run it by Harry first."
"What! You expect me to discuss my wooing techniques with Potter?"
"No, not just discuss it. When I say I want things run by Harry, I mean it. Especially things like kisses and touches and stuff."
"And why should I do that!" Draco yelled.
"Because... because..." Ron appeared stymied and glanced over at Hermione for help.
"Because Harry knows just how Ron likes things," Hermione claimed. She flicked her hair back from her face. "All Gryffindors know things like that about each other. What do you think we do all those nights that you Slytherins spend creating evil plots, anyway? Studying? Playing Exploding Snap? Ha!"
Draco stared at Hermione, completely stunned by this pronouncement. "I thought the Hufflepuffs were the only house that had group orgies."
"I wish I'd been sorted into Gryffindor," Greg muttered.
Hermione pushed Harry forward. "Now you go with Draco," she encouraged. "Make sure he figures out everything. And I do mean Everything."
Potter smiled eagerly at Draco. "I think we should get to work as soon as possible, don't you?"
Maybe Dumbledore wasn't such a bad choice after all, Draco thought.
* * *
"No, you're wrong," Vince declared. "I remember vividly the day Honeydukes started selling sugar-coated, chocolate-covered, jelly-filled biscuits. I ate two dozen of them and was dreadfully sick. When Snape gave me that potion for my stomach, I threw up all over him."
"No, you threw up all over Snape the day you bet Theodore that you could eat one hundred chocolate frogs," Greg reminded him.
"I threw up on Snape both days," argued Vince.
Harry was walking a little faster than the rest. "Fascinating conversations, your friends have," Harry said to Draco as he stopped in front of the portion of dungeon wall that led to the Slytherin rooms.
Instead of replying, Draco looked at him suspiciously. "How did you know that this is the entrance to Slytherin?"
"I've known for a while," Harry replied. "In second year Ron and I used polyjuice to turn into copies of your minions and you led us right into the common room."
Draco glared at Vince and Greg. "Did you know about this?"
The two shook their heads.
"It was Christmas," Harry said helpfully. When they still looked blank, he added, "You would've woken up together naked in a broom closet."
Vince shrugged. "Oh, like that's supposed to help us remember. Like that hasn't happened to us dozens of times."
Harry stared at him, then at Goyle. Finally he looked at Draco, an unspoken question in his eyes.
"No, Potter. It's never happened to me. I have never awakened naked in a closet with someone."
Greg cleared his throat. "What about that one time-"
"We agreed never to speak of that again," Draco warned.
"I think it's just one of those weird things that happens at Hogwarts," Vince interjected. "Like the moving staircases." He said the password and entered the Slytherin rooms.
Harry was about to follow when Greg grabbed at his arm.
"Owe you and Weasley a lot for giving me that idea." Greg winked and went through the doorway.
"You know," Harry said slowly, "I used to think the two of them were pretty scary - they were both so huge, but now that I've talked to them..."
"They're scarier." Draco supplied.
Harry nodded.
Draco preened. He loved having the scariest minions at Hogwarts.
Chapter 6
"First of all, we should make a list of things you and Ron can talk about."
Draco could not believe that he'd actually allowed Potter into his room because he was beginning to suspect that the git had bugs or perhaps a nasty rash. Every time Potter looked at where Draco lay across his bed, he twitched.
"You really think I want to talk to Weasley? Please. I'm not interested in anything that idiot has to say."
"Then maybe we should think of things you and Ron could do together."
"You mean like going around hitting or hexing people? Or causing malicious damage to people and property? Or perhaps rubbing it in people's faces that they can never be as rich or as beautiful as I am?"
"I was thinking more like Quidditch," Harry mumbled.
Draco stared at him. "You are aware that the last time Slytherin played Quidditch against Gryffindor it resulted in an all-out melee. If I remember correctly, you had to pull Weasley off of me." He frowned for a moment, recalling something else. "Then you attacked me."
Harry blushed. "Oh. Right."
"It really wasn't very sporting of you, Potter. There I was, on the ground, defenseless, and you jumped on top of me."
Harry's face turned redder.
"Though I was a little surprised that instead of punching me you seemed to be trying to push my body into the ground using yours."
"Can we change the subject?" Harry squeaked.
"And you really shouldn't stick your wand in your trouser pocket during Quidditch."
"Kissing!" Harry shouted.
Draco blinked. "What?"
"You and Ron. There'll be kissing. Even if you don't plan to do it often, you'll have to kiss him at the ceremony."
"I suppose we must." Draco pushed off from the bed and approached Potter. "How does Weasley like it?"
Potter seemed to having difficulty breathing. "Um... not too wet. But with tongues."
"I can do that," Draco said, and then reached for Harry, who quickly took off his glasses and placed them in his pocket.
With his hands on Potter's shoulders, he drew them closer together. When their lips met, Draco heard Potter let out a soft sound of need and want. Large hands clasped his waist.
It occurred to Draco that Potter was quite good at this activity. The tongue in his mouth wasn't intrusive, but tantalizing, making him want more. He tilted his head and moved his hands down to a well-defined chest.
For a moment, their lips parted as they sucked in a breath before meeting again, this time harder and deeper. The hands at his waist slid behind him, then down until they were cupping his arse.
Draco pulled back. "I think..." His voice was barely discernable from a moan.
"Hmm?" Harry murmured, lowering his mouth to the skin on Draco's throat.
"I think that I should just buy him stuff," Draco replied and took another step back, breaking away from Potter's embrace.
Potter looked at him for a moment, mouth hanging open. "What?"
"Weasley isn't used to the finer things in life. Instead of talking or doing things or kissing, I should simply use my wealth in an effort to purchase his affections."
"That wouldn't...." Harry's voice trailed off and he put his head in his hands. "Yeah, that'd probably do it."
"And you thought my wooing techniques needed work. Clearly, I am the Master."
"Only a Master of Evil," Harry intoned.
"Well," Draco said after a brief moment of confusion at Potter's utter weirdness, "I can't argue with that."
* * *
"Wow." Ron gazed at the heap of candy boxes around him. "Wow," he said again
"I ordered them from this little Wizard confectionary shop in Switzerland, just for you."
Weasley tore open a box and stuffed a chocolate into his mouth. "This is really good," he mumbled around the mouthful.
"As my mate, I fully intend to see that you have the best of everything." Draco scooted closer. "The best chocolates..." His hand ran over the sleeve of the faded robe Ron wore. "The best clothes."
Harry let out a small growl, which both Ron and Draco ignored.
"Really?" Ron asked, grinning madly.
"Absolutely," Draco promised. "Also, I thought we might take a little trip to Diagon Alley together to pick out your wedding present." He leaned forward until their faces were only a few inches apart. "How would you like the best broom available?"
"I'd love it!"
"Ron!" Hermione said sharply.
"Ron! Harry said, glaring at him.
Ron looked at his friends and his smile faded for a moment before brightening again. "You wouldn't consider getting me the broom as an engagement present instead, would you?" he asked Draco, before turning to Hermione. "It is okay to keep presents from broken engagements, right?"
As Hermione explained to a disappointed Ron that in the case of a broken engagement, one should return all presents, Draco glanced at Potter. He wondered why the prat was staring at him as if he couldn't decide whether to kill him or kiss him. He hoped Harry decided against killing him. After all, he had a wedding to prepare for.
* * *
"I think it's time we finish this, once and for all," Harry snarled and pushed Draco so hard that he fell back onto his bed.
He wished Potter would just tell him what he'd done wrong. All through dinner he'd fussed and fumed whenever Draco had leaned close to the Weasel. And grabbing him by the robes and dragging him out of the Great Hall when he'd offered to lick a smear of chocolate off of Weasley's face was definitely over-reacting.
As Draco watched, Potter pulled off his shoes and socks.
"What do you mean - finish this?" Draco asked.
Potter yanked his robe over his head then took a predatory step closer. "It's time we work on the wedding night."
Gulping, Draco scooted farther back on the bed. "I think it might be better if you just tell me what he likes."
In a flash, Harry reached out and captured one of Draco's wrists. "I think I'll do both. Have you ever heard of a Muggle classroom activity called show and tell?" he asked huskily.
Draco shook his head.
Harry grinned wickedly. "Then allow me to demonstrate."
Scanning the room, Harry's eyes lit upon the oval cheval mirror that Draco had standing in the corner. He tugged Draco over to it, and then stood behind him.
"I don't think Ron would like you to be fully dressed. Your clothes create far too many obstacles." Harry's hands reached around and began to undo Draco's robes, lightly brushing against his chest as he did so. When it was loosened sufficiently, Harry released his hold on the robe so that it pooled around Draco's feet.
Fingers rose and tripped across Draco's collar. "You're wearing a Slytherin tie," Harry whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver. "Ron doesn't like Slytherin, so that will definitely have to go, as well." A moment later, the tie joined the robe on the floor.
Harry was pressed against his back now. Draco attempted to lean forward but arms wrapped around his waist and he was pulled backwards. He could feel lips moving along the back of his neck.
"You're still much too formal. Ron goes for the casual look. I think we need to undo a few of those buttons.
Expecting Potter to work from his collar of his shirt down, Draco sucked in a shaky breath when his shirt was opened at the waist. In the mirror, he watched in fascination as hands slipped inside and began to caress his skin.
His eyes searched the mirror for Potter's. He found them staring back at him hungrily. The moistness of breath ghosted over him as he saw Potter move his head closer. When a tongue flicked into his ear, he shuddered, all the while watching Potter watch him.
A hardness pressed against his bottom and he wanted to push back against it. Increase that wonderful friction that he couldn't seem to get enough of.
This couldn't be happening. It wasn't Potter that was supposed to create these feelings. It was supposed to be... Draco tried to focus on retrieving the name of his potential mate. It was that redhead, the one with the raggedy robes - Weasley, that was it.
"I'm going to touch you," Potter whispered. "And everywhere I touch you with my hands, I'm later going to touch with my mouth."
Draco closed his eyes and tried to imagine that it was Weasley behind him. His entire body paid no attention to the thought and continued to writhe against Potter. He let out a small whimper.
"Don't worry," Harry murmured in his ear. "I won't hurt you."
Harry proceeded to make a liar out of himself by nipping at the earlobe next to his mouth and causing Draco's eyes to snap back open.
He'd never thought that Potter could make him feel like this. But Potter wasn't the one for him. He was just doing this as a favor, to show Draco what his friend liked.
In the mirror, his eyes followed as if entranced the path of a hand as it began to move lower. It paused at the waistband of his trousers, teasing the fastening for a moment before continued downward. When it brushed over the bulge in Draco's pants, he let out a low groan.
Harry laid small kisses along the line of his jaw. "You're going to like this. You're going to like it sooo much."
That was the problem. He was enjoying it far too much already. It wasn't supposed to be Potter. Not Potter. And if he suspected that Draco was thinking of him instead of Weasley, he might do something absolutely horrible. Something incredibly horrible. Like stop.
With sheer determination, Draco opened his mouth slightly and hissed out, "Weeeaasel,"
Harry leapt away from him, eyes wide. "W-What?"
Draco had never realised how the absence of something, in this case Potter's body on his, could make him ache. He had to get those wonderful feelings back.
"You are doing this to show me what the moron likes, right? Come back and show me some more."
Harry's face flushed an angry red and he moved away to retrieve his socks and shoes and put them on. "This was all a mistake," he snapped. "A big mistake." He grabbed his robe off of the floor. "I hope you and Ron will be very happy together."
Potter was leaving? He couldn't be, could he?
Harry stalking to the door seemed to prove that Draco was wrong. That he was, in fact, leaving.
Draco had to stop him. Drawing up every bit of Veela power he had, he focused it on Harry.
Thud! There was the sound of a body hitting the other side of the door. Several more thuds followed. Then even more thuds. The wood was shuddering and the doorknob was rattling. There was the scritch, scritch noise of fingernails scraping, desperately trying to get in.
Harry slowly turned to face Draco. "Are you trying to use your Veela powers on me?"
"Yes," Draco answered, frustrated. "Why isn't it working?"
"I'll tell you why it's not working, if you first tell me why you don't want me to leave."
Draco's lower lip stuck out in a pout and he saw Potter eye it for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping closer.
"Tell me," urged Potter.
"I liked what you were doing. I didn't want you to stop."
"But Ron's who you asked to be your mate," Harry said, narrowing the space between them.
"I've decided that I don't want him. I want you for my mate." Draco glared at Harry. "Now tell me why my Veela powers of attraction don't work on you."
"That's easy," Harry smiled. "Because I'm already attracted to you. I've been attracted to you for a while"
"Oh." Draco thought about that for a moment. "And how do you feel about Vince Crabbe?"
"What about him?"
Draco grinned.
* * *
A few minutes later, between exchanging kisses as they lay on his bed, Draco was struck by a thought.
"You are so very lucky that you're involved with me," Draco said to Harry. "Well, mostly you're fortunate because it is me, but you're also lucky because if I hadn't taken the initiative, we never would've got together."
Draco had always wanted to have the power to make someone scream in bed. He didn't think this was quite the same thing, however.
* * *
Vince and Greg had managed to sort out the first, second, and third year Slytherin students that had piled up outside of Draco's door. Pansy and Blaise had worked on the group of students in front of the patch of dungeon wall that led to the Slytherin rooms.
Now Vince and Greg stood next to Draco's door, attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation within.
"Have they solved all their problems?" Vince asked. Greg was much better at listening through walls, having perfected the technique in third-year.
Suddenly they could hear Draco shouting.
"I don't care what you say. I will not have pervy bird sex with Fawkes."
Greg turned to Vince. "I think they still have a few more issues to work out."
Epilogue
Greg and Vince sat on a bench in the courtyard trying to decide what to do with themselves now that Draco had found his mate and didn't need them anymore. They were at the point where they had almost decided to become slavishly devoted to Professor Snape when a scream rang out.
Suddenly, Draco came running out of Hogwarts, the ends of his robe flying out behind him as he ran in panic.
A few seconds later, Mrs. Norris rushed past them in hot pursuit. Filch was at her heels.
At last Harry bounded out of Hogwarts.
"How's Draco's Veela power training going?" Greg asked.
"Not so good," Harry replied, as he raced past.
Vince and Greg watched as Potter ran after Draco to save him from the affections of Mrs. Norris and Filch.
"I'd better be going," Greg said, standing up and brushing himself off.
Vince looked confused. "Going? Where? Why?"
Greg smiled. "Somewhere in Hogwarts is a powerful Wizard, with a beard, who wears glasses, and used to be a Gryffindor. Recently his mate has abandoned him for someone else. I do believe that he might be amenable to an offer of comfort sex.
As Greg left, Vince wondered if Dumbledore had the slightest idea what was in store for him.
The End