Fest Fic: Full Circle [H/D - NC-17 - 14k]

[bottom_draco_comm]

Title: Full Circle
Author: ???
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 14,035
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): *very light het Harry/Luna, bird transformation*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: beta thanks to kitty_fic, along with awesome coaxing and prodding to see that I finished the thing.
Summary: It seems Harry has come full circle when his rather complacent life is interrupted by one Draco Malfoy. With wings.


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When Harry defeated Voldemort and thus ended the war, his agenda was no more than to grieve with friends and family for loved-ones lost, become an Auror, find a small house, and eventually marry Ginny Weasley. By the time he had the house, the numbness he’d felt since the moment he’d defeated Voldemort was beginning to fade, and Harry was slowly coming alive again.

To everyone’s surprise, a year after moving into the small cottage not too far from the Weasley Burrow, Harry and Ginny announced a split rather than an upcoming wedding. If anyone had told Harry then that four years later he would own a bookshop and be dating Luna Lovegood, he would have laughed in their face. He was done with relationships; they were difficult, demanding, and frustrating.

It was a cool spring day when Harry unexpectedly ran into Luna outside a book store that Harry frequented. A sign on the front door said it was closing for good.

“It’s too bad, really,” Luna said when Harry came to stand beside her, for all the world as though they’d spoken only the day before rather than half a decade prior. The last time he’d seen Luna had been in the devastation of Hogwarts after the battle. Word had it that she’d moved to Romania for a time with Rolf Scamander.

“Where will all those books go if someone doesn’t take them in?” She looked at Harry with wide, guileless eyes, and Harry only had to think for a few moments before he walked through the door and bought the place. Luna deemed it as a very clever move on Harry’s part, and Harry couldn’t help but glow at the praise - it had been a while since he’d had any. It wasn’t that Harry liked attention - anyone who knew him back at Hogwarts realized that he shied away from that kind of thing. But praise was different. Growing up with the Dursley’s, Harry had never had his aunt and uncle’s approval, and any recognition he got at Hogwarts had been questionable, since he’d found himself planted firmly on a pedestal the moment he entered. Come to think of it, Ginny hadn’t had a lot to compliment Harry on during their time together. So, it really wasn’t that surprising that Harry got off on Luna stroking his ego.

Harry invited Luna over for tea, during which he began to panic at the fact that he was now the owner of a shop he didn’t know how to run. How in the world would he do it on top of his responsibilities as an Auror?

“Do you enjoy being an Auror?” Luna asked Harry.

“I utterly despise it,” Harry said honestly.

“Then quit.” Luna shrugged as though that was pretty obvious, and Harry couldn’t stop the grin that broke out on his face. When he left Hogwarts, everyone had expected him to become an Auror, so that’s what he’d done. Ginny had liked it that he worked for the Ministry and had never once asked Harry if he liked it himself. For the first time, Harry realized that he didn’t have to do what was expected of him.

Harry’s and Luna’s was an uncomplicated relationship, which suited Harry very well. Luna made absolutely no demands on Harry whatsoever. She treated him as she’d always treated him - like Harry, not The Boy Who Lived. Things were comfortable between them. She didn’t pressure him to have sex every night, as Ginny had done, and when they did have sex, she didn’t complain that it wasn’t what it should be, as Ginny also had done. Harry didn’t blame Ginny for that, because Harry knew he wasn’t the best lover in the world, but it was a real relief to be with someone who didn’t make his balls disappear into his body the moment she got into bed with him.

On the nights Luna spent with Harry rather than at her own flat over the plant shop she co-owned with Neville Longbottom, Harry was happy enough to climb into bed and hold Luna’s soft body in his arms. Sometimes they forgot that sex was even on the agenda and just fell asleep. On the nights they did have sex, if Luna was displeased by Harry’s fumbling performance, she never said anything. She seemed happy, and Harry supposed he was happy, too. Certainly happier than he’d been in a long while.

Once Harry quit being an Auror, he gave his all to the book shop and found he wasn’t too bad at running it. George helped him out by carefully outlining everything in detail and by helping him to hire someone to do the books and someone else to help manage the shop.  This left Harry with as much free time as he desired. Sometimes Harry spent afternoons with his godson Teddy, taking him to the park or to Fortescue’s for ice cream. Other times he visited Molly and Arthur Weasley, usually after checking to make sure Ginny wouldn’t be there. Many afternoons, Harry went to the plant shop with Luna where he talked with Neville in the attached greenhouse as Neville worked with the plants. Neville was a decorated war hero, but like Harry, didn’t want to be in the limelight. He’d faded into obscurity as soon as the final battle was over, and was rarely seen in the wizarding world if he could help it.

It amazed Harry how Neville had transformed from the buck-toothed, frightened little boy he’d been when Harry had met him, to the strong, good-looking man he was now. There was no doubt Neville was fit, and after the first time Harry had seen him, he’d shared that thought with Ron, only to have Ron look at Harry like he was daft.

“What?” Harry asked. “It’s true. You can’t deny it.”

“I don’t look at blokes, Harry,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose. Harry didn’t really stop to think about it; he knew Ron wasn’t the most observant of people. Ron had Hermione, and he didn’t notice much else.

If only it was as easy for Harry to disappear from the public eye as it was for Neville. People still recognized and bothered him on a daily basis, and the Ministry still frequently asked him to attend functions and give speeches, which he agreed to do out of a lingering sense of guilt over quitting as an Auror. Ginny had loved going to these functions, but Harry stopped taking Luna when she told a visiting dignitary’s wife that her hair was the perfect breeding ground for nuzzlewumps.

“I never pictured you with Luna,” Neville surprised Harry by saying one day as they sat together in the greenhouse. Sunlight poured through the glass windows, and the warmth of it on Harry’s back made him never want to get up from the bench. He stretched his arms up over his head and heard his back give a satisfying crack.

“I have to say I never pictured it, either.” Harry smiled, and Neville glanced up at him with an expression Harry couldn’t read.

“How did you and Luna come to own a shop together?” Harry asked.

“Luna never told you?”

“No.” Luna didn’t normally expound on things unless asked, and Harry had never asked. The oddity of that hadn’t occurred to him until that moment. They’d been together a couple of months—why hadn’t Harry asked her more about herself? Hermione had once said Luna and Harry seemed to have immediately fallen into a relationship that was more suited to an old married couple than two young, vibrant people.

“We decided to start the business right after the war.” Neville added some dirt into a pot of wiggling, giggling flowers, and they immediately changed from lilac to a dark puce.

“Were you seeing one another?” Harry remembered that there’d been some speculation that Neville and Luna were involved.

“No.”

As Harry watched Neville’s face colour, he suddenly realized that Neville had feelings for Luna.

Well, that made things a bit awkward. Harry wasn’t jealous, though, and he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t.

That night, as Harry hovered over Luna in bed, gingerly pushing in and out of her warm heat, her pale legs wrapped around his waist, he asked her if she realised that Neville liked her that way. If Luna thought it an odd time for Harry to be talking about Neville, she didn’t show it. Tilting her pelvis up into Harry’s next gentle thrust, she looked contemplative.

“I hadn’t thought, but now that you mention it, he does seem to stare at me a lot.”

Harry laughed.

“Are you close?” he asked Luna politely.

“Not really. You?”

“Getting there.”

“Perhaps a little help would hurry things along.” Luna gave Harry a placid smile.

Harry obligingly reached down and worked her with his thumb until she arched under him, pale breasts tipped in pink jiggling in the light of the moon through the window. Luna’s breasts were nice, Harry supposed, but Harry preferred Ginny’s, which were almost as flat as a boy’s. In fact, Ginny’s coltish body was the only thing that Harry missed about his relationship with her.

“Ooh, that’s nice,” Luna moaned, as her inner muscles clenched around Harry’s cock, which was really only half hard. Still, he felt himself propelled over the edge in a gentle ripple of pleasure.

Harry sagged to the side and conjured a cigarette.

Luna didn’t mind that Harry liked to smoke, although she refused to do it herself as she thought it encouraged the presence of wrackspurts.

“It’s probably the reason you can’t have a proper orgasm,” she’d told Harry one time, but other than that, Luna never said a thing about Harry lighting up.

 “What do you mean by proper?” he’d asked her.

“They just seem rather bland. When Rolf and I used to fuck, there was a lot of swearing, shuddering, and moaning.” Luna had shrugged it off, but Harry couldn’t forget it.

“What are orgasms like between you and Hermione?” Harry had asked Ron the next time he’d had a pint with him at The Leaky.

Ron made a rapturous face.

“Out of this world. One time I thought my nuts were going to blast off my body.”

Harry thought about that as he lay in bed and smoked his cigarette, looking at the long expanse of Luna’s pale back. She’d promptly rolled over after their coupling and fallen asleep, the moonlight now gleaming over her pale hair. Harry reached out with his free left hand and rubbed a silky strand between his finger and thumb.

Unbidden and completely taking Harry by surprise, an image came to his mind of Draco Malfoy. Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy since the day of his pardoning. Luna told Harry once that she and Malfoy were distantly related, which explained the hair. The odd notion of Harry ever being able to stroke Malfoy’s hair as he was Luna’s caused him to abruptly drop his hand.

What had happened to Malfoy? Harry didn’t know. He wondered if he ran into Malfoy tomorrow, would the old animosity still be there? He’d like to think not, as those Hogwarts days already seemed far away and barely real. Harry had grown up. They all had.

The next day over breakfast, Harry asked Luna if she knew what happened to his old nemesis.

“Draco went to France for a few years,” Luna said, “but he’s been back a while. I ran into him last Tuesday at the apothecary. He looks good.”

Harry thought about that. He supposed Draco had always been handsome, although a bit thin and pointy. That probably wasn’t what Luna meant, though.

“Good how?”

“Healthy,” Luna shrugged as she buttered a piece of toast, silver flutterby earrings swinging from her ears. She passed it to Harry and picked up another for herself. “Like his psyche’s been cleansed.”

“Oh.” Harry said. “That’s good, I guess.”

“I was there looking for something to get rid of the parleyworms that keep eating the leaves of the Bindle Bushes Neville brought in last month, and Draco was looking at potions.”

“What sort of potions?” Harry asked, falling into the old habit of wondering if Malfoy was up to something nefarious.

“I believe they were suppressants.”

“Suppressants?”

“Yes. I didn’t really look because Draco seemed uncomfortable. We said hello, and I went to make my purchase.” Luna took a sip of tea.

“Sorry. That must have been difficult for you, after what happened to you at Malfoy Manor.”

“Oh, Draco was never cruel to me then.” Luna set her cup down and looked at Harry with her guileless eyes. Harry remembered a time when he’d thought Luna a bit daft; he’d quickly learned she could be more discerning than most. “He actually tried to help us all when he could, but it was difficult because his aunt and Voldemort were always around.”

“He tried to help you?”

“Yes.” Luna nodded. “There wasn’t a lot he could do, but he did sneak us a bit more food and some blankets, and he cast a warming charm now and then. He also nicked a book on magical creatures from his father’s library for me to read when it was light enough to do so. There was only one small window, you know.” She smiled.

Harry thought about this. He’d always suspected that Malfoy really wasn’t at all like his father, in spite of his attempts to appear as if he was. It made Harry happy to know that he’d been right - that Malfoy had actually been kind to Luna and the others held in the Manor near the end of Voldemort’s reign there.

“Harry,” Luna said, and Harry turned to see a look of affectionate exasperation on her face.

“Sorry. What?”

“I’m going to head to the plant shop. Want to meet for lunch?”

“Sure.” Harry lifted his head as she bent to kiss him and then watched her Floo out.

Harry cleaned up the remains of breakfast and headed to the book shop.

One of the things Harry liked most about his shop was the smell. Clean pages, spiced tea, and sunshine.

“What does sunshine smell like?” Ron had once teased Harry when he’d voiced his thoughts.

“Dunno.” Harry had shrugged. “Happiness?”

“You’re something else, Harry.” Ron’s face had gone soft with affection.

As Harry poured himself a cup of tea at the small tea station he’d set up near the cash register, the shop door opened and none other than Ron walked in.

“I was just thinking about you.” Harry grinned over his shoulder.

“All good thoughts, I hope.” Ron plunked himself down in one of the overstuffed chairs as Harry poured him a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

“You look knackered,” Harry said, and Ron grinned lasciviously.

“Up late with Hermione.” He shook his head in wonder. “She’s a tigress in bed, mate. As soon as the baby’s asleep, we - ”

“Stop.” Harry held up a hand. “Don’t need to know that.” Harry wrinkled his nose as he handed Ron his tea.

“She likes to be on top, you know?” Ron continued, heedless of Harry’s discomfort. “Not too surprising, considering it’s Hermione. She rode me for a good thirty minutes last night. Didn’t know I could last that long, but she’d blown me in the shower just before, so - ”

“Ron!” Harry interrupted. “Too much information!”

“We’re best mates, Harry, and I’m married and need some guy talk. Come on…you never share. ’Course when it was Ginny, I really didn’t want to know. Is it good with Luna?”

Harry’s brow wrinkled.

“Sure.”

“What positions do you do it in?”

“Just the regular…face to face. Do we really have to talk about this?”

 “No, not if you don’t want to.” Ron sighed. “I usually talk to George about stuff like this, but he’s gone to America for a month to visit wizarding joke shops.”

“And you think Hermione would be okay with you discussing your sex life with your brother?” Harry asked.

A petrified look crossed Ron’s face.

“You won’t tell her, will you?”

“Of course not.” Harry laughed.

Ron relaxed back into the sofa, looking about the shop with its comfortable furniture and rows and rows of books.

“You’ve got it made, Harry. You leave home to come to a place that’s like a second home.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, leaning back in the comfortable leather chair. “That’s what makes it so brilliant. And I owe it all to Luna.”

“How are things going with you two - sex aside?”

“Pretty good.”

“She seems a bit - vacant sometimes. You know, like she’s not all there. She’s always seemed that way to me.”

“Luna’s smarter than she looks. She got me to quit being an Auror and to buy this shop, didn’t she?”

“I have to admit you seem happier.”

“I am. I fucking hated being an Auror.”

“Then why did you do it?” Ron frowned. Harry knew Ron loved his job at the Ministry.

“Partly because I wanted to work with you and partly because everyone expected me to after the war.”

Harry looked up from his cup to find Ron studying him.

“What?”

“I just wondered if that’s why you got with my sister. Because it was expected.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. It had had a little to do with that.

“I really thought I loved her, Ron. We just couldn’t make it work.”

“I know, mate. It’s okay, though I admit it would have been brill to have you as a brother-in-law.”

“We’re already like brothers. We don’t need it to be legal.”

Ron smiled widely, and Harry changed the subject to Quidditch.

Later that day, Harry closed the shop, thinking about picking up something for dinner. It was highly possible that Luna would be there when he got home, as Thursday was the least busy day at the plant store; but she didn’t like to cook, and he didn’t feel like it. As he walked down the street, enjoying the heat of the day after the chill of the shop, he thought about what Ron had said about Hermione. Ginny had occasionally tried to ride Harry, and Harry guessed it had been okay. Why did Ron enjoy it so much? Why did he want to talk about it? Was there something wrong with Harry that he didn’t think about or want to discuss these things? Luna didn’t complain that they always did it missionary style, but maybe she was just too nice to say anything. She had said that time that he didn’t have “proper orgasms,” but that seemed more out of concern for his pleasure than her own. Yet, if Rolf really had done a lot of swearing and moaning when he’d been with Luna, surely it had been a better experience than the almost half-hearted attempts Harry and Luna made at it.

As the seeds of doubt embedded themselves, Harry’s mood soured, and by the time he got the food and arrived home, he was in a funk.

“Something wrong, Harry?” Luna asked, putting down the magazine she’d been reading and looking up at him.

“Will you be very honest with me, Luna, if I ask you something?” Harry sat down beside her on the sofa.

“Of course.” Luna nodded.

“Am I a bad lover?”

“Oh, of course not, Harry.” Luna placed her hand over his where it lay on the cushion between them. “You are a very cordial and polite lover. You always make sure I’ve had my pleasure before you take yours.”

“That doesn’t sound very exciting.” Harry frowned.

“You didn’t ask me if you’re an exciting lover. Besides, I think perhaps it’s the best you can do, considering your proclivities.”

“What?” Harry shook his head, confused. Luna wore the same mild expression she always wore. Patient, bland. The only time he really saw that expression change was when she was laughing at something or in the throes of pleasure; and really, “throes” was taking it a bit far.

“Your preference…the fact that you prefer men.”

It felt as if the floor dropped out from under Harry.

“What? Luna…I don’t know what you mean. I don’t prefer men!”

“Of course you do, Harry. I just don’t think you’ve considered it very much, but that’s okay. Sometimes it takes a while. It did for my uncle Garrold.”

Harry stood up so fast, his head spun and he had to grab hold of the back of the sofa.

“No…I don’t know where you got that, but it’s not true!” Harry would have been angry, except it was impossible to be angry with Luna. She stared at him with wide blue eyes, and Harry knew she wasn’t saying this to be hateful. “You’re wrong, Luna.” He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her up from the sofa. “I like women. I do.” He swallowed. “I just want to know how to be a better lover. More like…like Rolf. What did he like to do in bed?”

Luna thought about it.

“Well, he enjoyed going down on me a lot.”

“Okay, then. Let’s do that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Harry regretted his eagerness, and it must have shown, because Luna took pity on him and he wound up using his hand instead. After, she lay beside him, head nestled in his arm, and studied his face.

“That was very nice, Harry, thank you.” She put her hand on his chest, fingers toying with his nipple. It felt good, and Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t - ”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. Honestly.”

Harry’s cock stirred as Luna continued to stroke his nipples.

“You like this,” Luna said, and Harry nodded, keeping his eyes closed. A moment later, and he felt Luna’s hand on his cock and after that, her mouth. He gasped, and keeping his eyes closed, reached down and pushed his fingers into her soft hair. In his mind’s eye, he could see the white blond strands.

Harry’s eyes popped open, but then Luna did something spectacular with her tongue and they fluttered shut again. He pumped his hips, and the warm mouth tightened around him. Draco Malfoy. It was as though his mind had spoken to him.

Another sweep of tongue around the ridge, just under the head. Harry groaned.

Draco, Draco, Draco. Harry bucked up, balls tightening, and a few sucks later, he came harder than he had in a while.

“Wow,” he breathed heavily, sinking down to the mattress. Luna smiled at him.

“I thought you might like that.”

“I really did.”

Luna rolled out of bed to go to the loo.

Harry was asleep before she returned.

***

The following morning, Luna broke up with Harry over toast and coffee.

“But…but…” Harry sputtered, gobsmacked. Luna just smiled sedately at him.

“You have a lot to think about, and our relationship isn’t helping.”

“I don’t understand, Luna. I thought things were going well between us.”

“Harry,” Luna said calmly between sucking butter off her fingers, “this is not what you want or need. And frankly, although I’m very fond of you, I’ve always known it wasn’t going to last between us. Yes, we get along well, but it’s time to move on.”

“You’re not still on about me liking men, are you?”

“That’s really for you to decide. I just think it’s time we parted ways.” Luna stood and took her dishes to the sink before heading for the Floo. She paused by Harry’s chair to pat his head. “I hope you will still come by the greenhouse often.”

Harry nodded, and Luna left.

Harry walked to work that morning as he did on most mornings. He was more shocked than sad that Luna had ended things. He hadn’t expected it. They had settled into a comfortable routine on the nights when she came around, and Harry knew he would miss it. He’d been lonely as a child at the Dursley’s, and since then, he’d tried to surround himself with friends whenever possible. Now he’d be completely on his own again, like he was after he had split with Ginny, and the thought didn’t sit well with him.

He stopped to look in a store window of Quidditch supplies. Maybe he’d take the game up again as a hobby, he thought, just before he caught a glimpse of white-blond hair in his peripheral vision. For a brief second he thought of Luna, then realized that the hair was pulled up in a loose knot, and with those broad shoulders and strong, long legs…

Draco Malfoy.

Harry followed.

Malfoy was walking fast, and Harry had to step on it to keep Draco in sight. Once he got close enough, he slowed down a bit. Malfoy wasn’t wearing robes. Many wizards didn’t wear them these days unless for formal occasions, but it seemed odd to Harry to see Malfoy without them. As Harry walked several yards behind, he noted that Malfoy was taller and broader than he’d been in school, and his long legs ended in a nice, round, pert arse.

Harry was too shocked at where his thoughts had gone to realise that Malfoy had paused on the pavement and whirled around. Harry skidded to a halt.

“Why are you following me, Potter?”

Harry’s heart picked up at the sound of Malfoy’s austere, angry voice. He hadn’t heard it in years and realised he’d missed it, which was absolutely ridiculous.

“What? I’m not following you.” Harry’s eyes immediately went to the small bag in Malfoy’s hand.

“Please.” Malfoy laughed derisively. “You’re no better at it now than you were in sixth year.” Although Malfoy’s tongue was as sharp as ever, (and why did that particular turn of phrase send shivers through Harry’s groin?), something was off. Malfoy’s hands shook minutely and his breathing came in short, erratic bursts.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, taking a step closer. The air around them seemed to charge, like nothing Harry had ever felt before, and Malfoy reared back.

“Of course I am. Now either tell me why you’re following me, or leave me alone.”

“Maybe I just wanted to say hello,” Harry said.

“Right.” Malfoy turned and continued walking. Harry wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to know what was in the bag Malfoy held, but he couldn’t think of a way to find out. Malfoy was far ahead of Harry at this point, and Harry made the split decision to continue to follow.

Malfoy didn’t turn around again, but Harry could still see him, stumbling a bit through the crowd, head low. Harry remembered Malfoy as always graceful and aloof in his movements, and the contrast alarmed him. Harry picked up his pace, pausing only when he noticed how many people seemed to be focusing on Malfoy. Men and women alike looked at him in a way Harry couldn’t quite put into words, their eyes glazing over and fingers twitching as though longing to touch. A couple of people did reach out, and Malfoy shrank away, curling into himself. A sudden, inexplicable rage filled Harry, and he moved forward, trying to push his way through the throng that poured out of neighboring stores, clogging the pavement. When the throng got so thick that Harry could barely spot Malfoy’s blond head, he started elbowing his way through, aiming for ribs and occasionally a soft solar plexus.

When Harry finally managed to burst through the throng, he’d lost sight of Malfoy. Turning around in a complete circle, Harry carefully scrutinized the crowd, looking for the white-blond head. Where the fuck had he gone?

Harry was about to give up when a loud cry to his left brought his attention to an alleyway, and he took off running.

As soon as Harry entered the dank, littered off-shoot of the main thoroughfare, his eyes landed on several pairs of feet sticking out from behind a dumpster.

“Let go of me!” Malfoy’s voice was unmistakable to Harry’s ears. He still sounded angry, but this time it was tinged with fear and fatigue. Harry scrambled over an overturned chair someone had thrown out and grabbed hold of one of the men who rested atop of Malfoy. Anger coursing through him, Harry hurled the man against the wall and placed his wand to the man’s twitching throat. The ground began to shake as Harry’s magic reacted to his ire.

“You’d better get the fuck out of here,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “before I hex your balls off, you bastard!” As soon as Harry let go his grip, the assailant fled. The other man rolled off Malfoy and followed, throwing a look of terror at Harry before disappearing around the corner. Harry fell to his knees beside Malfoy, noting the torn clothes and bloodied bottom lip.

“Malfoy?” Harry bent closer, hand falling to rest on Malfoy’s knee. “Say something.”

“Get me out of here, Potter,” Malfoy barely managed to rasp, and Harry pulled him close and Disapparated.

At Harry’s cottage, he tried to help Malfoy to his feet.

“Here,” Harry said, draping one of Malfoy’s arms over his shoulder and heaving him up, “let me get you to a bed. You’re really hurt.” He paused, uncertain. “Or maybe I should take you to St. Mungo’s…”

“No,” Malfoy rasped. “Please, no, Potter. Just…just let me lie down a while.”

“Okay.” Harry pressed Malfoy more firmly against his side and helped him down the hall and into the bedroom. Harry only had the one bedroom, so it was his own bed on which he deposited Malfoy, who seemed more out of it now than he had before. Malfoy’s eyes were glazed over and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. Still, Harry couldn’t help but notice how truly lovely he was.

Lovely. Hardly a word Harry had ever thought he’d apply to Malfoy, but Malfoy really was just that. His eyelashes were long and just slightly darker than his hair. They swept over his cheeks, which were flushed an alluring shade of pink. His full lips were parted, showing straight, white teeth and a hint of slick tongue. His shiny blond hair, having slipped out of the knot at the back of his head, fell to his shoulders, and strands of it clung to his damp face. Harry was unable to stop himself from reaching out and smoothing them back. The gesture was odd, to say the least, considering the enmity the two of them had shared in school, but it also seemed very right somehow.

“Can I get you anything? Malfoy?”

Eyes the color of pewter flickered open and slowly focused on Harry. To Harry’s surprise, a soft smile formed on Malfoy’s lips.

“Harry,” he said, just before passing out cold.

Worried and more than a little flustered by Malfoy’s smile and use of Harry’s given name, Harry hurried to the kitchen and fire-called Hermione.

“She’s not here, mate. Just started a shift at St. Mungo’s.” Ron’s face flickered in the flames. He was bouncing baby Rose in his arms.

“Could you send her word that I really need her here? It’s an emergency.”

“You okay?” Ron looked worried.

“Yeah, it’s not for me. It’s a friend. Please, Ron?”

“Sure. I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks.”

Harry returned to his bed to stare at Malfoy. After a minute’s indecision, he gently removed Malfoy’s expensive, brown leather shoes and peeled off his socks. Malfoy’s feet were long and fine-boned, and the pale tops looked like they’d be soft to the touch. Harry had to restrain himself from doing just that, and he wondered at the fact that he was so taken with the sight of another man’s feet.

Malfoy suddenly looked vulnerable, and Harry felt a strong urge to take care of him. Still trying to make the other man more comfortable, Harry undid the butter-soft leather belt around Malfoy’s waist and was mortified when the intimate action made him hard. Harry quickly stepped back and waited by the door until he heard Hermione come through the Floo.

“Harry?”

“In here, ’Mione.”

“Is it Luna?” Hermione looked worried as she rushed down the hall.

“No, it’s Malfoy.”

“Malfoy! Draco Malfoy?” Hermione joined Harry in the doorway, her eyes immediately falling to the man sprawled on the bed. “Oh, my goodness.” Professionalism taking over, Hermione went forward to place her medical bag on the nightstand. She bent over Malfoy.

“Malfoy. Can you hear me? Draco!”

Malfoy didn’t move, and Hermione placed the back of her hand to his forehead.

“He’s burning up! Harry, come help me get his shirt off.”

Harry hurried over and between the two of them, they managed to divest Malfoy of his white button-down shirt.

“Fit, isn’t he?” Harry murmured, eyes sweeping over Malfoy’s hairless, well-muscled chest and pausing to admire the taut lines of his abdomen.

“Harry, I’m a professional, I don’t... Wait a minute—what?” Hermione looked at Harry, her mouth falling open.

“Why can’t a man say another man’s fit without everyone looking at him funny?”

Malfoy stirred, eyes blinking open. Just as before, he smiled, Harry’s name a whisper on his lips.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Malfoy, Hermione’s here to help you,” Harry said gently. “Someone attacked you in an alley and I brought you to my house, but you seem to be sick.”

To Harry’s astonishment, Malfoy’s hand moved from where it lay on the bed to brush against Harry’s fingers.

“Harry,” Malfoy said again before falling back into unconsciousness.

“He was attacked?” Hermione asked, riffling through her bag.

“Yeah. Two men had him pinned in an alley. He was bleeding a bit from his lip, but that’s all the injury I could see. What’s wrong with him?” Harry’s eyes met Hermione’s.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Hermione swished her wand in complicated motions over Malfoy’s body. Malfoy groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, and Harry sucked in a breath.

“Hermione, look! They must have cut him!”” Harry pointed at Malfoy’s shoulder blades where there were two flaming red slits carved into his flesh.

“These are too symmetrical to have been made at random with a knife,” Hermione said as she examined the cuts. “They almost look like…”

Harry suddenly remembered the bag Malfoy had been carrying.

“Luna said Malfoy was buying suppressants at the apothecary a few days ago. He had a small bag with him today, and we weren’t far from the apothecary’s. Maybe that has something to do with why the men attacked him or why he seems so sick.”

“Suppressants for what?”

“Luna didn’t know. Malfoy looked awful when I spoke with him just before that. Really shaky.”

Hermione stepped back, a speculative look on her face.

“I need to go make a fire-call to a colleague, Harry. I’ll be right back.”

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed. Malfoy no longer seemed to be resting comfortably, but instead breathed in harsh, shallow bursts, limbs twitching on the bed. Tentatively, Harry reached out and stroked his hand over Malfoy’s back, between the odd slits on his shoulder blades. To his horror, he slits opened a bit, blood trickling over Malfoy’s pale skin. Harry jerked his hand back, appalled that he’d made things worse.

“Blimey.” Ron’s voice startled Harry into turning toward the door. At Harry’s questioning look, Ron said, “I was worried it was Luna, so I dropped Rose with Mum and came over.”

“Luna and I broke up.”

“What?” Ron stepped into the room. “When did that happen?”

“This morning. I’ll tell you about it later.” Harry continued to stare at Malfoy.

“Why do you have the Ferret in your bed?”

“He was attacked by two men in an alley, and I brought him here.”

“Instead of the hospital?” Ron’s eyes ran over Malfoy, and Harry had the sudden urge to throw a blanket over the expanse of pale skin. Instead, he stood up and led Ron to the door.

“He begged me not to take him there.”

“Wonder what he’s up to now?” Ron shook his head. “Harry, you don’t need to be involved.”

“Ron, I - ”

“Mate,” Ron placed his hand on Harry’s arm. “I know you like to help people, but sometimes you’ve got to think about what’s good for yourself. Does Malfoy have anything to do with why you and Luna split?”

“No! Ron, I - ”

“You’ve always had a blind spot where the Ferret’s concerned.”

“That’s not true!”

“Sixth year, mate.”

“This has nothing to do with sixth year!”

An odd noise from the bed caused both Harry and Ron to stop mid-argument and turn toward it. Malfoy had regained consciousness and rolled over. He lifted himself up on one elbow, pupils growing so that the black almost completely obscured the gray.

“Take your hands off him,” Malfoy rasped.

Ron and Harry just stood staring until Harry came to himself first and stepped away from Ron, causing his arm to drop to his side.

“Since when does the Ferret take up for you?” Ron asked after Malfoy had collapsed back onto the pillows again.

“Stop calling him that,” Harry said irritably. “And I think he’s delirious.”

Hermione joined them again.

“Healer Franks will be here as soon as he can. For now, you two get out. I’m going to see if I can bring Malfoy’s fever down.”

Harry didn’t want to leave the room. His instincts shouted at him to protect Malfoy, although why he should need to protect anyone from Hermione, he couldn’t quite work out.

“Go on, Harry,” Hermione said softy, and Harry reluctantly followed Ron out of the room.

It seemed to take forever for Hermione’s colleague to arrive, and then another two hours for them to come out of Harry’s bedroom. Ron had long since gone home, having to pick up the baby from his mother’s.

“Well?” Harry stood as the Healer and Hermione entered the living room.

“Fever’s broken,” Healer Franks said, tucking his spectacles into his shirt pocket. “He needs a good night sleep. He should feel better in the morning, and I’ve asked him to continue seeing me on a regular basis for a while.”

“All because he was jumped in an alley?” Harry asked. “What’s wrong with him?” He looked from Healer Franks to Hermione and back again.

“Healer-patient confidentiality,” the Healer said. He nodded to Harry and then Hermione before going to the Floo.

“Hermione,” Harry said, but she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but Malfoy doesn’t want the specifics of his illness known.”

“Illness?” A wash of fear ran through Harry. “Is it serious?”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione touched his arm. “Is it all right that he sleeps here tonight? Franks gave him something to help him rest, and he’s unlikely to awaken until morning.”

“Of course,” Harry said.

“Okay. Make sure he eats something in the morning, and then he should be strong enough to go home. I’ll talk to you later, Harry.”

“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry watched her step into the Floo.

Illness. Malfoy was ill. Harry could only infer that the suppressants had something to do with it. He walked down the hall and peered into the bedroom. Malfoy now lay under the covers, and Harry noted his clothes were neatly folded in a chair.

Harry’s strong desire to touch Malfoy was frightening. He backed away and went into the living room to watch telly.

Hours later, Malfoy still slept peacefully, so Harry made up the sofa and settled down to sleep.

The following morning, sunlight awoke Harry earlier than usual. He yawned and stretched before wandering to the kitchen to make some tea. Just as he’d filled the teapot, a crash from the bedroom sent Harry running in that direction. He was unprepared for the sight that met him.

Completely nude, Malfoy was perched atop the chest of drawers, the lamp on the floor, and magnificent white wings spreading out from his shoulders. Pale hair fell across grey eyes huge with fear.

Morgana’s fanny, Malfoy is a Veela! Harry thought.

“Malfoy?” Harry took a step into the room and held out his hand. “You’re at my house. It’s okay; you’ve been sick. Would you like something to eat?”

Malfoy’s eyes wandered around the room, the look of panic in them fading somewhat at Harry’s words. The gorgeous wings fluttered a bit.

“Come down off there and into the kitchen,” Harry suggested. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Malfoy swallowed before leaping from the dresser, landing gracefully on his feet with the help of his wings.

“So… you’re a Veela,” Harry said when they were face to face.

“Veelus,” Malfoy said softly. “A male.”

“Wow.” Harry shook his head. “I’ve never met a Veelus before.” Before he could stop himself, he reached out and ran his fingers over the curve of one beautiful wing.

Malfoy shuddered and let out a small noise.

“Does that feel good?” Harry asked just before he looked down and saw the long curve of Malfoy’s hard cock. Harry pulled in a breath, fingers curling into white feathers, and Malfoy arched with a strangled moan, body trembling as spurts of white hit the hard wood floor.

Harry stared. He’d just made Draco Malfoy come, and all from stroking one of his wings.

Breathing hard, Malfoy stepped away, leaning against the wall.

“Um…your clothes are there on the chair,” Harry said hurriedly, flicking his wand over the floor to clean it. “I’ll be in the kitchen making tea.” He practically ran out of the room.

When Malfoy appeared a quarter of an hour later, clothes on and wings gone, Harry pushed a cup of tea across the table.

“Earl Grey,” he said, and Malfoy sat down and took the cup.

“When did you find out you were a…Veelus? Harry asked. Although Malfoy looked better than he did yesterday, he was still extremely pale and tired-looking.

“I found out when I was in France,” Malfoy said before taking a sip of tea. “It’s why I came back here. I didn’t feel at home in France once I came into my Veelum heritage.”

“I thought it was Veelus.”

“Veelum is plural.”

“And Veela is female?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Complicated.”

“Not really,” Malfoy huffed.

“Shouldn’t you have come into your heritage a long time ago? Fleur did when she hit puberty.”

“Males are different. For us it has more to do with when we are ready to bond with our mate.”

Harry nodded like he understood, although he really didn’t.

“Why do you suppose you weren’t comfortable in France?”

“I can only surmise it has something to do with my mate.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you for saving me from those men, Potter,” Malfoy said, and Harry found himself marveling at how much Draco had changed since their school days, when he probably would have rather ripped out his tongue than thank anyone.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

“It was the allure,” Malfoy said, one long finger running over the rim of his tea cup in a way that Harry found mesmerizing. “People won’t leave me alone, and I can’t turn it off. It’s getting stronger and stronger, calling out to my mate.”

“Are those what the suppressants are for?”

“No, they’re for keeping my wings hidden and the physical discomfort of being without my mate.”

“How can you find this mate?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. I have little knowledge about Veelus. They’re very rare. I only knew about the suppressants because the man at the apothecary brewed them from an ancient book of potions. He says the werewolves use them the most. He also told me that my mate is probably here in London since this is where I seem to want to be.”

“What about Healer Franks?” Harry asked. At Malfoy’s blank look, he added, “the Healer who came here to see you last night. I’m assuming he was a specialist in Veela.“

“Veelum.”

“Right. Well, since Hermione brought him as a consult, he must know.”

“Oh. Well,” Malfoy rubbed his forehead, “I wasn’t really myself and don’t remember much. I believe he set up an appointment for me. He said he would owl.”

Malfoy stood.

“Thank you again, Potter. I must be going now; I’ve intruded upon you for too long.”

“No intrusion, it’s fine.” Harry stood.

“It seems you’ve not outgrown your aptitude for saving people.” Malfoy studied Harry for a moment, and Harry tried not to squirm under the steady gaze. He shrugged in answer, and Malfoy gave him a faint smile before turning to look around, unsure.

“You can Floo, or there’s an Apparition point down the street,” Harry said.

“I’ll do the latter, then. I’m not really up to Flooing at the moment.” Malfoy headed for the door.

Harry watched him leave, wanting to stop him, but there was no reason to do so. Harry couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt that he really wanted to get to know Malfoy better, but he did. He decided it must be his reluctance to be alone.

Harry occupied himself with doing the dishes, his mind wandering to the soft feel of the white feathers of Draco’s wing and the way Draco had hardened and come all over the floor when Harry touched its delicate ridge. Malfoy might not even have been completely aware of what happened - he seemed very out of it when he’d been perched on the dresser, and he hadn’t looked mortified at what had happened when he’d entered the kitchen, as Harry thought he would be. The moment had to be one of the singularly most erotic things Harry had ever witnessed, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He’d never had that effect on someone in his life - giving them so much pleasure that they lost themselves completely.

Harry told himself it must just be a Veela - Veelum thing, (if it was bloody plural Veelum, why hadn’t he heard that before? Leave it to Malfoy to be so damned picky!), and that anyone could have touched Malfoy’s wing and made him come.

Harry walked about the kitchen with a trash bag, throwing away crumpled napkins and empty cereal cartons. The place was an utter pigsty, and he really needed to do something about it. He resolved to clean more when he got home from work. Bundling up the trash, Harry headed for the bin, which was just outside the door.

When he walked outside, he froze. Malfoy sat slumped against the house.

“Hey - Malfoy.” Harry reached down and shook Malfoy by the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Malfoy slowly looked up at Harry, blinking as though coming out of a daze.

“Yeah. I - I just suddenly didn’t have the energy to move.” He took a deep breath.

Harry helped Malfoy to stand, and when he was on his feet, Malfoy blinked a few times before abruptly pulling away, a look of irritation crossing his features.

“I’m fine, Potter!”

“Well, you must be, since you sound a bit more like yourself,” Harry said with a small smile.

Malfoy relaxed a bit, nodded curtly, and then walked away, a little slowly, but steadily enough. Harry watched until Malfoy reached the Apparition point and disappeared with a turn.

***

“Hermione,” Harry said a week later over lunch, “do you think it’s possible that I’m gay?”

Hermione choked on her water.

“What?” she rasped out as soon as she was able. “Harry, where did that come from?”

Harry had been thinking about this for days, mostly while he cleaned his messy house. He wasn’t ready to say that he was gay, but he wasn’t exactly denying it anymore in the face of all that had happened lately.

“Well, Ginny said I was shite in bed, and Luna said I like guys more than girls.”

Hermione stared.

“You can’t base your sexuality on what other people say about you, Harry.” She looked at him closely. “Do you? Like guys more than girls?”

Harry shrugged, but his mind wandered straight to Draco Malfoy, nude, with large, beautiful wings spread out behind him like an angel.

“I don’t know yet,” Harry said. “I just know I don’t get very turned-on when I’m with a girl.”

Hermione leaned back and looked at the wall behind Harry’s head for a moment. They were at The Leaky, Hermione on her break and Harry at loose ends about what to do with his extra time. He’d been to the book shop every day that week and was ready for a change. He planned to go to Luna and Neville’s plant shop as soon as Hermione went back to work, as he didn’t want to let too much time pass before he saw Luna again. Harry had come to believe Luna had done the right thing in breaking up with him, and he wanted to keep her as a good friend. He missed Neville, too.

“It might explain a few things,” Hermione finally said.

“Like what?” Harry asked, surprised.

“I don’t know. Just odd feelings I’ve had over the years about things you’ve said and done.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer, and Harry said so, frowning into his butter beer.

“Your school obsession with Draco Malfoy, for one,” Hermione said, watching Harry carefully. “Have you spoken to Malfoy since he was at your house?”

“No, and it wasn’t an obsession. I knew he was up to something, and if you’ll remember correctly, he was.”

“You always stared at him, Harry. Even before and after sixth year. And there was that comment you made about him being fit.”

Harry remained silent. He supposed he’d always found Malfoy a bit fascinating. But he was pretty sure he hadn’t had sexual thoughts about him in school. Lately, however…

“We haven’t had a moment to talk since Malfoy stayed over at yours. What did he say to you the next morning?” Hermione asked.

“Well, we had a lot to talk about, seeing as he woke up the next morning with the most magnificent pair of wings you’ve ever seen.” Harry grinned, delighted that he’d managed to shock Hermione.

“You know, then!”

Harry nodded.

“Malfoy’s a Veelus. He told me himself, although I guess it was pretty obvious by then. I actually hadn’t known about the distinction between Veela and Veelus, did you?”

“Of course.” Hermione looked miffed at the very thought that she might not.

“Well, I’ve never heard you call them Veeluses…er, Veelum before.”

“Malfoy told you all this?” Hermione seemed intrigued.

Harry nodded.

“Do you think Healer Franks will be able to help him find his mate?” A prickle of unease settled over Harry. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Malfoy having a mate didn’t sit well with him.

“I don’t know. Male Veelum are rare, and even Scott - that’s Healer Franks - doesn’t know all that much about them. I’ve done a bit of research since, but I haven’t been able to find much on the subject. I wonder if Lucius Malfoy was a Veelus - I read the gene can lie dormant for a few generations, though, so he didn’t necessarily have to be.”

“He certainly had the look,” Harry said. “But so did Narcissa.”

“The gene could have just as easily come from the maternal side,” Hermione agreed.

“If they were still alive, they could help Malfoy,” she added, and Harry nodded. Both of Malfoy’s parents had died in what was thought to be a hate crime shortly after the war ended; the posh restaurant where they were dining in with the Zabinis and the Goyles blew up, killing everyone inside, most of them ex-Death Eaters or Death Eater sympathizers who frequented the establishment. Harry remembered that he’d wanted to send Malfoy his condolences, but Ron had talked him out of it, saying that Malfoy wouldn’t want to hear from Harry when feeling vulnerable.

“I’d better be getting back,” Hermione sighed. “Take care, Harry.”

Harry paid the bill and headed for the Floo at the back of The Leaky.

“Harry!” Luna put down the large plant she held and walked toward him, a pleased smile on her face. “I’ve been hoping to see you.”

“Hi, Luna.”

“I hope you’re doing well,” Luna said as Harry hugged her.

“I am, Luna. Everything’s fine. You don’t have to feel guilty or worry about me.”

“I just want you to be happy, Harry.” Luna gently ran her hand down the side of his face.

Neville came out from the back.

“Hullo, Harry.” Neville smiled, and patted Harry on the back. “I’ve missed seeing you.”

“I’ve just been busy this week,” Harry said. As he looked Neville over, he thought his old friend looked happier than he had in a long time.

“Let’s have some tea,” Luna said. “Business is slow today.”

“Seems you were right, Harry,” Luna said when they’d all sat down at the small table at the back of the shop.

“Right about what?”

“Neville really does have a thing for me.” Luna turned her calm gaze to Neville, who blushed scarlet.

“I hope you don’t mind, Harry,” Neville said.

“Oh…oh, no. It’s fine. Luna and I aren’t together anymore. But you know that, of course.” Harry found he really didn’t mind, and he thought that he probably should.

Neville looked at Luna as though she were a rare gem, and Luna squeezed his hand, and Harry couldn’t help but think they made a rather nice-looking couple.

“We’re going to a club tonight, Harry,” Luna said. “Want to come along?”

“Yeah, Harry, come with us.” Neville peered anxiously at Harry. It was obvious that he needed some reassurance that Harry was really okay about Neville’s relationship with Luna, and although Harry wasn’t at all sure he wanted to go to a club, he found himself agreeing.

Of course, Harry regretted it the moment they walked in. The club was packed, and Harry didn’t do well in crowds. Of course he was noticed, and women immediately began asking him to dance.

“You really can’t blame them, Harry; you look really hot,” Luna told him. She’d picked out the tight black jeans and black T-shirt, and Harry had only agreed to wear them because he thought he’d blend into the darkness of the club.  “Dance with someone.”

He sighed and obliged, dancing first with a pretty brunet and then a petite blond before retreating to the bar and hiding behind Neville and Luna. He managed it for a while until Luna and Neville decided to dance and a short, dark man approached Harry and asked if he could buy him a drink. Harry politely refused before turning away with a red face.

“It really isn’t a big deal in the wizarding world, Harry,” Luna said when he told them about it a while later. “No one uses the term ‘gay’ like Muggles do. There’s no label at all for preferring the same sex, because it’s something wizards and witches have done for centuries, particularly pure bloods.”

“My uncle was married to a wizard,” Neville said, picking up his pint.

Harry thought about it. The idea of dancing with a man wasn’t at all abhorrent to him, and there was no better opportunity to experiment than at a club. Now that he really looked, he saw that there were quite a few same sex couples on the dance floor. He looked around until he saw a man he thought rather fit who had just finished dancing with another man and stopped at a table to finish off his beer. Getting up from his stool, Harry ordered a pint and walked that way.

“Refill?” Harry handed the beer to the man, who looked up at him, surprised.

He was tall, red-headed, and reminded Harry a bit of Charlie Weasley.

“Sure,” he said, taking the drink from him. “Have a seat.”

Harry sat across from the man, who introduced himself as Robin Weathersby, and they made small talk for a few moments. Robin told Harry he sold Quidditch supplies in Diagon Alley, which led to a conversation about Quidditch, and when Robin had finished half his drink, he suggested they dance.

Harry was quite a good dancer, having forced Hermione to teach him everything she knew so that when he had to do it at Ministry functions, he wouldn’t look like a fool. He stood close to Robin on the crowded floor, and felt himself responding every time their bodies brushed together. He didn’t think he wanted to go off and shag the man, but Harry had to admit to himself that he found dancing with Robin much more enjoyable than dancing with the two women he’d been with earlier. He even thought that kissing Robin might be nice.

When a slow song played and Robin stepped forward and pressed into Harry, Harry realized just how much he liked it. He was even getting a little hard, and he had to admit that the feel of Robin’s hands on his back was pleasant. When they eventually slid down to Harry’s arse, he didn’t object.

It was so loud and so crowded in the club, it took Harry a couple of minutes to notice something was going on near the bar. A small crowd gathered in one corner, and Harry saw Luna and Neville trying to get closer to the center of it.

“Excuse me,” Harry told Robin before heading that way.

“Luna, what’s happening?” Harry asked as he grabbed her by the arm and leaned close to her ear so she could hear him over the din.

“It’s Draco,” Luna said. “A couple of blokes got into a fight over him, I think.”

The allure. Alarmed, Harry began carving a path through the spectators, muttering a few Confundus charms to help him along.

When Harry finally got to the bar, the sight of two men holding onto each of Draco’s arms as though he was something to possess sent a lightning bolt of fury through Harry, and his magic responded in kind, sending the glasses hanging over the bar to rattling as though in the middle of an earthquake. He lunged forward and yanked Malfoy up, dislodging the two men.

“Lay a hand on him again, and I’ll kill you!” Harry snarled before turning and tugging Malfoy toward the exit. He was vaguely aware that his reaction had been a bit over-the-top, but he found he couldn’t be arsed to care.

Outside, Malfoy shook Harry off.

“Potter, I do not need to be led like a child.”

Harry whirled on him.

“Oh? I’m beginning to wonder if you can take care of yourself at all. I thought you were taking suppressants to keep things like that from happening!”

“I told you, they aren’t for the allure,” Malfoy said, coming to a stand-still on the pavement and wrapping his arms around himself. “Mainly they keep my wings from coming out and enable me to function without falling over!”

“So what are you doing hanging out in a club, trying to get mauled?” Harry angrily clenched his fists. What had Malfoy been thinking?

Malfoy just shook his head, as though he didn’t know how he’d wound up there, and that made Harry even angrier.

“Great, Malfoy, terrific. You know, I won’t always be right where you need me to pull you out of these messes.”

Malfoy gave Harry an odd look before dropping his eyes to the ground.

“Oh, Draco!” Luna said, coming up behind them with Neville in tow. “You’re a Veelus, then? That’s wonderful!”

Harry continued to glare at Malfoy, ignoring Luna.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t make a conscious decision to be here,” Malfoy told Harry. “I’ve been wandering from place to place all day, for no apparent reason. First The Leaky - I had an incredible urge to go there, but when I arrived, I just as quickly decided to leave for a plant store, which was closed. I stood outside it for a while and then found myself Apparating here.”

“That’s everywhere you’ve been today, isn’t it Harry?” Luna looked amused. “Didn’t you say you lunched with Hermione at The Leaky before you came to see us?”

“Harry?”

Harry turned to find Robin standing behind them.

“You’re not leaving, are you? I thought we were having fun. Or,” he touched Harry’s shoulder, “we could go to my place…”

A feral noise rose in Malfoy’s throat and Harry turned to look at him. Malfoy stood, feet apart and eyes a dark, obsidian black. At that moment he appeared a lot larger than he was, and frighteningly dangerous.

“Oh, you’d better step away from Harry,” Luna told Robin, taking him by the arm and tugging him away. “Draco’s a Veelus, and he’ll tear you apart if you continue touching his mate.”

Appropriately scared, Robin shot one last glance at Harry before turning and walking back into the club.

Harry reached out and touched Malfoy’s arm, surprised to see that Malfoy immediately settled back into his normal posture, pupils returning to their regular size.

“Luna, I’m not Malfoy’s mate,” Harry said, unconsciously stroking Malfoy’s arm. “He doesn’t know who his mate is.”

“It looks to me like you’re his mate,” Neville said.

“Malfoy.” Harry sighed and ignored his friends. “Can we give you a lift home? Neville has a car.”

“A Mugglemobile?” Malfoy asked, looking both aghast and curious at the same time.

“Yes,” Neville said. “Come on.”

Neville led the way.

“Luna, did you really have to scare Robin away like that?” Harry asked, remembering the man’s horrified face. He’d been a nice enough bloke.

“Did you want to go home with him?” Malfoy turned to Harry with a look that was oddly vulnerable.

“I would have at least liked to have had the choice.” Harry felt out of sorts, adrenaline still running high.

“Here it is,” Neville said, and unlocked the doors of the blue Prius.

Malfoy eyed it warily.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry said. “They’re perfectly safe.”

When Luna and Neville were settled in the front seat and Harry and Malfoy in the back, Harry reached over and helped Malfoy to put on his seat belt.

“These are for safety.”

 “This strap of material is supposed to keep me safe in this thing?” Malfoy turned incredulous eyes on Harry.

“Yes. If the car has to stop quickly, it will keep you from flying forward.”

Malfoy looked doubtful. At the sound of the engine starting, he jumped.  Harry patted Malfoy’s hand reassuringly. Malfoy’s eyes moved to the window as Neville pulled away from the kerb, and he gasped as they moved down the road, turning his hand in Harry’s to clasp it tightly. When the scenery began to fly by at a rapid pace, Harry felt sure Malfoy was holding his breath. He liked the feel of Malfoy’s fingers entwined with his, and had the most curious desire to stroke his thumb over Malfoy’s hand.

“Where can I drop you, Malfoy?” Neville asked from the front seat. “The Manor?”

Harry winced. Neville had been out of the loop for years, particularly concerning the events just after the war. Harry expected Malfoy to react badly at the reminder of his parents’ deaths and family’s downfall, but Malfoy spoke calmly.

“I am no longer in possession of Malfoy Manor. It belongs to the Ministry.”

“Oh, sorry to hear it,” Neville said. “Well, your flat then?”

Malfoy muttered an address in a comfortable, but by no means affluent, area of London, and soon they pulled up in front of a quaint house that had been divided into flats.

“Nice,” Harry said sincerely, liking the look of the place.

“Do you really like it?”

“Yeah - it looks very homey and comfortable.”

Malfoy smiled, and Harry found himself staring until Neville finally cleared his throat.

“We’ll be seeing you, then.”

“Goodnight,” Malfoy said to them all. He climbed out of the car and cast a singularly longing look at Harry before turning and walking up the steps. Luna peered over the seat at Harry.

“Poor Draco.”

“Why poor?” Harry asked, feeling a little unsettled for no reason he could discern.

“Being a Veelus and not being able to be with his mate must be excruciating.”

“Luna…”

“It’s quite painful, Harry. You should make more of an effort to be with him.”

“I’m not Malfoy’s mate!”

The lights from the street lamps played across Luna’s features as Neville drove.

“You are, Harry. It’s obvious for everyone to see. The way he responds to you makes it obvious. You’re not going to reject him, are you?”

Harry struggled with his irritation. Luna could be very erudite, but sometimes she was just plain nutty. Just to appease her, he told her he’d see Malfoy again soon.

Back at Luna’s flat above the plant shop, Harry accepted tea from Neville as Luna went to the bedroom to change. Looking around, Harry could see some of Neville’s things mixed with Luna’s.

“Have you already moved in?”

“Sorry.” Neville looked sheepish. “I know it’s only been a week since you broke up with her. It’s just…I’ve had feelings for Luna for a long time. I never would have interfered with the two of you, but after you broke up…” Neville shrugged.

Harry set about putting Neville at ease.

“I think the two of you are brilliant together,” Harry said. “And to be honest, when Luna pointed out to me that I might be more interested in guys than girls, I thought she was crazy. Now, though, I can see she was probably right.”

“You certainly seem fond of Draco Malfoy,” Neville said, smiling.

“Not you, too.”

“Don’t get mad, Harry,” Neville said, “but I do think there’s something to what Luna’s saying about Malfoy. You may very well be his mate, and if you’re going to reject him, sooner’s better than later. No use stringing him along and keeping him in torment.”

“If Malfoy really thought I was his mate, wouldn’t he say something?” Harry asked, wondering at the fact that Neville entertained the crazy idea. Luna was one thing - she always had fanciful thoughts - but Neville was more level-headed.

“Maybe not if he really thought you’d reject him,” Neville said. “Or perhaps he didn’t realize you were his mate until tonight.”

Harry thought about that, and Neville leaned forward, face serious.

“If Malfoy’s transfiguring because he hasn’t yet mated, the symptoms are quite debilitating and will only get worse. The apothecary won’t supply the suppressants past a certain point, because the side effects of taking them too long are very dangerous.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I grow plants for the apothecary that he uses to make his potions, and he’s told me a lot about them. The suppressants are for all kinds of magical creatures, not just the Veelum. Vampires and Werewolves, for instance.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. When Robin had asked Harry to come home with him, Malfoy had looked other-worldly for a moment. Other-worldly and very, very angry. Harry had to admit that perhaps there could be something to what Luna and Neville were saying.

***

That night, Harry dreamed of Draco Malfoy, his voice calling out to Harry in agony as he arched on a bed covered in black silk, pale skin shining with sweat.

Harry awoke in a sweat himself, so disturbed by the dream that he grabbed his clothes and Apparated to Malfoy’s building. The moon still hung high in the sky, and Harry stood outside staring up at the top windows for a few moments before determinedly walking in and climbing the stairs to what he instinctively knew was Malfoy’s door.

Every nerve in his body told him something was wrong.

Hand shaking, Harry knocked.

There was a faint rustling within, along with strange, strangled sounds that Harry found deeply disturbing.

“Malfoy?” he called. “Draco?”

The sounds stopped, and Harry stood for long seconds listening hard in the utter silence.

“Let me in,” Harry finally said, “or I’ll take down the door.” Harry dropped his wand from his sleeve, preparing to do just that, when the door clicked open.

Harry slipped inside into complete darkness.

“Lumos.” Harry held up his wand and took in a startled breath at what he saw.

The room was a mess; pieces of parchment and downy white feathers from the sofa pillows were everywhere, like it had snowed indoors.

Or perhaps the feathers weren’t from the sofa pillows. Harry looked closer.

In the darkest corner of the room stood Malfoy, shirt off and chest heaving.

At least, Harry assumed it was Malfoy; the bird-like visage was both regal and beautiful, with white-blond hair in disarray and beautiful grey eyes that looked haunted. Malfoy’s face was no longer human, but all beak and feathers, and his hands had formed into talons. His body appeared the same, although the clothes he’d been wearing earlier in the evening had been reduced to shreds in order to allow the two gorgeous wings that had sprung out of his back.

When Malfoy recognized Harry, he lifted and spread out his wings, knocking a lamp and a vase off two tables. A long, trilling cry escaped his beak.

“Malfoy?” Harry swallowed and willed his racing heart to calm. Malfoy squawked and flapped his wings, sending several more items crashing to the floor.

Pitching his voice low and going for soothing, Harry beckoned Malfoy over to the sofa.

“Come sit,” he said, and when Malfoy didn’t immediately obey, added, “Draco.”

Harry marveled at the ripple that ran through the Veelus’ body at the sound of his given name from Harry’s lips.

“Come on, Draco,” Harry repeated, and eventually Malfoy flapped his wings and moved forward.

“Your wings are beautiful,” Harry said. “But you might want to retract them so you don’t do any more damage to your flat.”

Malfoy - Draco, Harry corrected himself, for he liked the positive responses - spread his wings out as though showing them off before bringing them in close to his body and moving to sit beside Harry, the warmth of his thigh sending a tingling charge straight through the cloth of Harry’s trousers and into his skin, which suddenly seemed sensitized beyond belief. Unable to help himself, Harry reached out and stroked the curve of one soft wing. Draco let out a strangled cry and suddenly grabbed hold of Harry and, in a surprising show of strength, lifted him bodily and settled him onto his lap with Harry’s knees planted on either side.

Draco softly clicked his beak in Harry’s ear, the oddly soothing sound almost like a whisper.

“I came here because I felt something was wrong,” Harry said gently, as though Draco had asked a question. He rested his arms on Draco’s shoulders, and the intimate position made Harry blush. He could feel the large bulge in Draco’s trousers, and his own cock began to harden in his pants.

Draco made a warbling noise and rubbed the smooth curve of his beak over Harry’s neck before unfurling his wings and enveloping the two of them inside their warmth. Immediately, it was as though the outside world didn’t exist. It was a strange but oddly wonderful sensation to be encompassed that way, Draco’s soft breath in Harry’s ear, and Harry found himself relaxing and resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. Draco also began to settle, his heartbeat slowing against Harry’s chest. They sat for long moments, breathing together. Harry didn’t know how much time passed that way until he realized Draco had returned to human form. Harry missed the feel of wings around him, but straddling human Draco was nice in itself.

More than nice.

“All right now?” Harry whispered and felt Draco nod against him.

“Are you in pain?”

“No,” Draco’s voice sounded hoarse. “Not anymore.”

Harry shifted, and Draco tightened his grip around Harry, as though afraid he would leave.

“Would you like me to stay tonight?” Harry asked, and Draco let out a breath.

“That…would be nice.”

“Then perhaps…the bedroom? Unless you trashed that, too.” Harry’s tone was teasing, and Draco huffed a laugh.

Harry climbed off Draco’s lap and stood, helping Draco up from the sofa. Draco led the way into the bedroom, and Harry saw the same four poster bed with black silk sheets from his dream.

“It happened in here,” he said with certainty laced with awe. “The transformation.”

Draco nodded, watching Harry’s face intently.

“I dreamt about it. That’s why I came.” Harry’s eyes met Draco’s, and a delightful shiver ran up his spine.

Harry reached out, taking Draco’s hand.

“I’m your mate, aren’t I, Draco?” Luna and Neville had definitely been right; Harry knew it like he knew he was a wizard.

Draco looked away, and Harry let go his hand to turn and slip off his shoes. He yanked his T-shirt over his head before shucking his pyjama pants and slipping under the duvet.

“Going to join me?” Harry asked, and Draco jolted as though coming out of a trance. He unzipped his trousers and let them fall, stepping out of them. Harry had only seconds to admire the long expanse of pale legs before Draco moved toward the bed.

It was dark in the room, except for the dim light of the moon through the window.

“I…I’m not asking you for anything, Harry,” Draco said, turning to glance at Harry shyly. It was such a severe contrast to the Veelus who had possessively held Harry just moments before, that Harry had to chuckle.

“You’re under no obligation…” Draco stopped, frowning.

Harry lifted his hand and touched Draco’s cheek.

“I’m here because I want to be.”

“But…at the club. You - you and that man…”

“He was just someone I danced with.”

“You wanted to be with him. You might have gone home with him if I hadn’t stopped you.”

“I don’t know if I would or I wouldn’t, but I didn’t, so there’s no point talking about it.”

Draco looked away.

“I didn’t know you were the one until that moment,” Draco said. “I wanted to kill him - just the thought of him touching you - ” His jaw tightened.

“Draco, it’s okay.” Harry ran his hand down Draco’s neck to his shoulder, then continued down the soft skin of his arm to grip his hand. “I didn’t leave with him, and I’m right where I want to be.”

“Because you feel like you have to be here.” Draco’s fingers trembled in Harry’s grip.

Harry moved to get more comfortable on the bed. The sheets were soft as butter and felt delicious against Harry’s bare skin, as did Draco’s leg when Harry brushed against it.

“I want to be here, Draco. You have to know I’m not lying - I can’t lie to you.”

Draco seemed to consider this a moment, then nodded. It was true - it would be physically impossible for Harry to lie to Draco, and he suspected it worked both ways, and Draco had realized that.

Giving into temptation, Harry let his fingers wander over the hard planes of Draco’s chest, marveling at the sparse blond hair between his pectoral muscles. It was barely visible, and Harry found it very alluring. Draco’s nipples were small, brown, and perfect, and Harry ran his fingers over the nubs, making them peak. He found he liked the hard planes of a masculine chest as opposed to the softness of a woman, and thought it no wonder he had appreciated Ginny’ boyish figure over Luna’s feminine one.

Alluring. Harry paused and shook his head. He hadn’t reacted to Draco’s allure before, and that wasn’t what it was now. He trailed his hand lower to the flat muscles of Draco’s belly.

“I knew I needed to be here with you,” he said softly. “I knew you needed me.”

Harry’s cock throbbed between his legs, pushing at the fabric of his pants. Moving the sheet back, he looked at Draco.

“I’ve never been with a man before,” Harry said, and Draco hissed in pleasure when Harry ran his finger over the tip of his cock through the cloth.

Harry told himself that it was strange and frightening to cross this bridge, and he should take it slowly - but this was his mate lying next to him, beautiful and eager, and Harry wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his life.

Taking a breath, Harry pushed down the waistband of Draco’s white briefs until they caught just below the heavy, round, ball sac, lifting it like an offering. Draco’s long, pale cock curved above it, and Harry’s hand hovered briefly before falling to sift his fingers though the slightly wiry blond curls at its base. It didn’t feel at all odd to Harry, although this was his first time sexually touching a man. Draco made a sound like a purr and collapsed onto his back, legs falling open.

Harry could barely breathe at the sight. Slowly, he got up and pulled Draco’s pants the rest of the way off, tossing them into a corner of the room.

“I want you,” he said, voice pitched low and barely recognizable to his own ears.

“Yes, yes,” Draco moaned, bending his knees so Harry could climb between them. Harry shed his own pants and looked down at his stiff cock. He squeezed its base, eyes moving to the tiny puckered rose beneath Draco’s perineum. A charge of pure lust burst through him, and he squeezed his cock even harder to stave off his building climax. Fuck! He could come from just looking at Draco.

“Accio lube,” Harry said, hoping Draco had some, and the night stand drawer flew open, releasing a tube that flew swiftly forward and landed in Harry’s upturned hand. Harry flipped open the cap.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Every moment you’re not inside me hurts me,” Draco said, and Harry almost erupted right then and there. Draco lay panting, so achingly beautiful that Harry could only stare for a moment, although there were so many things he wanted to do.

“Please, Harry…”

Harry blinked and then brought his slick fingers to Draco’s opening, teasing the tiny furl and wondering how he was ever going to get his cock in there.

“Now, Harry, please!” Draco’s hole opened like a tiny, gasping mouth before closing again, and Harry trembled as he slid a finger inside it. Draco clamped down with a moan. Harry added another finger, marveling at the tight heat. Draco kept begging, and Harry was so ready, his cock dripped onto the sheets. He removed his fingers and pushed the head of his cock inside Draco, gasping as the tight outer ring of Draco’s opening gripped ahold of the head of Harry’s cock.

“Oh…oh, fuck, Draco!”

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist, tilted his hips, and pushed upward, spearing himself on Harry’s cock in one long thrust. Harry could have cried with the aching joy of it.

Leaning forward, Harry ran his mouth over the long expanse of Draco’s throat, tasting him, moving steadily higher until Draco turned his head, catching Harry’s lips in a kiss that made Harry weak with want. Harry was balls-deep inside Draco, Draco’s tongue slick and silky in Harry’s mouth, and it was brilliant. As they kissed, every so often Draco would clench his inner muscles around Harry’s cock, and Harry would almost black out from pleasure.

“Move, Harry,” Draco groaned against Harry’s lips. “Fuck me, oh, Salazar, please!”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain some kind of control. If he moved even an inch, he knew he would come. He tried thinking about Quidditch scores, but that only made him remember what Draco looked like on a broom, graceful and strong. Harry switched thoughts to the Ministry and the next speech he needed to give, and he felt the pressure ease a bit. Panting, he brought his hips back a little before moving minutely forward again.

Draco groaned as though Harry had done something earth-shattering. Encouraged, Harry did it again. And again. Until he was shallowly fucking Draco and Draco was writhing beneath him, a haunting trill filling the room and drowning out their panting breaths and the squeaking of the bed.

Draco clutched at Harry’s shoulders, fingers digging into skin and muscle, and Harry lifted Draco’s legs, pushing them high until he could see where Draco’s hole ate Harry up, stretching wide to take him in with every thrust. The sight made Harry’s head swim.

“Harder!” Draco cried, and Harry pulled back and slammed into him, watching the sweet rose of Draco’s arse grip Harry’s cock over and over until the sensations built so high that Harry began to shake. Sliding his hands beneath Draco’s shoulders, Harry lifted him and turned until Harry was on his back with Draco astride him. Draco began to bounce greedily, riding Harry like a prized Thestral, cock bobbing enticingly between them. Harry wrapped his hand around it, tugging and twisting the engorged flesh as Draco ground down on Harry, making Harry moan.

“Fuck, Harry!” Draco arched and tensed, huge white wings erupting from his back and flapping in the air as white ropes of spunk coated both Draco’s and Harry’s stomachs. Harry caught some of it on his lips, suddenly wanting even more of Draco - wishing he could press his lips to Draco’s aching hole and suck and bite at it until Draco cried from sheer bliss.

Harry’s vision whited out as excruciating pleasure rocketed from his toes to the roots of his hair. He sobbed, cock pulsing.

It seemed to go on and on, Draco’s wings lifting Draco up and then setting him down over and over again on Harry’s spurting cock, hungry arse milking him like a nursing baby grappling for every last drop of milk. When Draco finally collapsed onto Harry, Harry remained inside of him, exhausted.

Draco’s heart beat fast against Harry’s cheek, and his body trembled from exertion. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist just below his wings. When his fingers touched the delicate feathers, Draco shuddered and released another small pulse of semen between them.

Gradually, they settled down to sleep.

***

Harry dug into his meat pie with a fork, his free arm resting comfortably across Draco’s shoulders. They were having a leisurely dinner at a local restaurant with Luna and Neville, and Harry thought he really couldn’t be more content. It had been a month since he and Draco bonded, and the transition into a relationship hadn’t been difficult at all. They’d lived together from the first, unable to be apart for long.

“So, you like sex with a man better than with a woman, Harry?” Luna suddenly asked in her frank way before popping a piece of hot-buttered bread into her mouth.

Harry stopped chewing, all eyes on him. He swallowed his food.

“Yeah. A lot better.” He glanced at Draco. “But I can’t imagine it with anyone other than Draco.”

“Good answer,” Draco said, smiling slightly before continuing to eat.

“Neville and I are getting married,” Luna said, holding up her left hand where an emerald shown on the third finger.

“Congratulations!”

Neville looked as pleased as a man could look, and Harry couldn’t help but marvel at how well things had turned out.

Later, when Harry and Draco were back home and getting ready for bed, Harry came out of the bathroom to find Draco stripped and waiting for him. Harry’s cock immediately rose to the occasion, sticking rigidly from his body. It was hard to believe that he’d gone so long without realising that sex could be so much more than it had been.

As though reading his mind, Draco gave Harry a smirk.

“Happy to see me?”

Harry crawled up the bed to hover over Draco and kiss him on the mouth, wet and hot.

“Always.” Harry settled down beside Draco, sucking in a breath as he felt Draco’s long fingers wrap around his aching cock. As he looked at the aristocratic planes of Draco’s face, Harry suddenly felt as though he’d come full circle; he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“What do you think about having a wedding ourselves?” Harry asked with a gasp as Draco’s fingers sparked waves of pleasure down Harry’s shaft. Draco paused in his rhythmic stroking to look into Harry’s eyes.

“Really? You want that?”

Harry nodded solemnly and bit his lip. He really, really did.

Draco’s answering smile could light up the room. It definitely lit up Harry’s heart.

 

---End---

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