A/N: This is a Harry/Draco Veela!fic, and though I know that this is a slightly controversial pairing, I do enjoy writing it, as you can already see from my fic Revenge *shamelessly advertising myself here*.


- This is not an established relationship, it is a developing one.

- This is also an AU fic in the aspect that there are no Horcruxes except for two: Harry and the diary. I do hope that this does not put you off in any shape or form.

- I am also sorry if anything in this fic resembles any others, sadly there are so many Veela fics out there that some aspects are just too obvious to ignore.

- Dumbledore is not dead, and this deviates strongly from HBP, so apologies, Sirius is dead again.

- They are in their seventh year, i.e. their NEWT year. This is because inheritances commonly occur towards the end of the sixth year when they turn seventeen.

There are also other changes, that, if I run across them, I will notify you of them.

Warning: male/male relationship, creature fic (naturally the one most Harry Potter fanfic writers do –Veela!), mentions of Dursley past, though nothing graphic.

Disclaimer: None of my work belongs to me, it is solely the property of the one and only J.K. Rowling and any other company which has the copyright of Harry Potter, including Warner Bros. Nothing here belongs to me; all the characters are J.K. Rowling's originally, though any new character not part of the Harry Potter series belongs to me.

Title: Always

Author: hpjkrowling4ever

Chapter One

Rustling through the merry bed of gorgeous daffodils the wind blew, cradling them gently in her calming arms, before moving on towards the peonies, kissing them gently and moving on again. Diving into the jumping brook running along the garden hedge, the wind sent up some spray which caught the light, sending a myriad of colours sparkling onto the fresh grass, but soon she was gone again, this time climbing up the ancient walls of the house with the hydrangea, twining herself like a lover ever so gently among them, caressing them before she flew in through the window and entered the large bedroom, its occupant sleeping peacefully on the bed.

She stroked him softly, before rustling through his sheets, pecking him on the lips, wishing him good luck before she was gone again through the window, flying towards the risen sun, having said good day to the newly turned person on the bed.

The young man on the bed was covered with a thin layer of glistening sweat, and his long hair lay splayed around his head, looking new and fresh like the sunrise, filled with promise. His head was turned slightly to the side, and he was breathing heavily, his well-defined cheekbones rising and falling with the rhythm his lungs chose to conduct. His chest was covered in a thin sprinkling of pale hairs, and his muscles were clearly defined, having lost their childish fat. The thin silk sheets covered the rest of him, but he was clearly tall for his age. Suddenly, he moved, his head and hair moving with him, and his mouth opening in a barely perceptible whimper. His door opened gently, and a woman put her head around, sighed, and closed the door again. But she was not gone –instead, she came back with a man holding some phials in his hand.

Slowly, carefully they made their way towards the young man on the bed, the woman's finely tailored robes rustling carefully on the richly carpeted floor. They paused when he moved again, his whimpers becoming more pronounced, but soon they relaxed, the woman taking off her expensive shoes and gliding onto the bed, quietly shaking the young man awake. He groaned, and suddenly shot up, his eyes wide and blank, before he shook his head violently, clearing them.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice no longer unbroken but strong and rich despite being rough from sleep. "I feel terrible."

"Your inheritance, my son." The man said, sitting next to his wife, their shoulders touching. He handed some of the phials over to the young man, who drank them thankfully, shuddering at their taste but sighing at the relief they brought to him. "You finally reached your maturity."

He chuckled at his son's stricken expression and saw his wife smile as his boy –though no longer a boy– started feeling his hair, his face, before looking down and blushing faintly when he saw his state of undress.

"Where have my pyjamas gone, Father?" he asked, trying not to sound embarrassed.

"Your magic most likely took them away. You had quite a strong reaction to your inheritance." His father looked concerned, and the young man picked up on the concern.

"Did everything happen as expected?"

"Yes, my son, and more." His mother said, rubbing his arm lightly. He shivered and noticed that his window was open.

"I don't remember opening my window."

"The wind did, my son. We came in after we were sure you were finished with gaining your powers."

"So I am a Veela?" he asked nervously. He felt different, but he couldn't quite pick up on what was different.

"Definitely, Draco. And you were never going to be anything else." Narcissa Malfoy smiled at her son and held Lucius Malfoy's hand tightly.

"Did you feel anything concerning your mate?" Lucius asked quietly. "Anything at all?"

As he said that, Draco remembered the feeling of emptiness he had felt halfway through his transformation, and in a burst of light, large white wings burst from his back, almost knocking Narcissa off his bed. They moved of their own accord, dictated by Draco's thoughts, and wrapped tightly around him as he whimpered, feeling that emptiness now.

"I think he did, Lucius," Narcissa said wryly, moving to stroke her son's hair, her long sleeves just brushing her son's wings. Draco whirled around, hissing softly, baring his teeth, his canines seeming to elongate and get sharper. Looking confused, he started apologising but Lucius put up his hand to stop him.

"We understand, son, and your mother did not mean to touch them."

"Why did I have that reaction, Father? Is there something wrong with them?" Draco asked, running his hand along the long appendages, shivering when he felt them, but not feeling what he had when his mother had touched them.

"What did you feel? Tell us, and you might work out what happened." Lucius said softly, taking his son's hand and rubbing it comfortingly. He understood how disturbing the transformation could be.

"Like…almost like Mother was…" Draco looked ashamed of himself. "Like she was touching something intimate and private she should never have touched. Sorry," he said again to his mother, who smiled at him reassuringly.

"Your wings are extremely private and meant solely for your mate to touch and see and do anything with. They are meant to defend your mate –if you perceive that any threat has been made towards him, your wings would react accordingly and harden into scales, but if it is just you and he or she, they will be soft feathers. It is a sacrilege to touch another Veela's wings."

"Why did I show them to you, then?" Draco asked, feeling suddenly as if they were exposed, and then feeling as if he had broken a trust he had not yet gained. He whimpered again, and his wings wrapped around him once more.

"Because we mentioned your mate, and they unconsciously came out because you needed them. You are newly turned, my son, they are instinctive, which is why we took you out of school for your birthday, can you imagine what you would be feeling if they saw your wings?"

Draco started shivering and his wings wrapped even tighter around him. Shaking his head, he tried to move them away from himself and found them batting the air gently behind him as they moved out to frame him angelically.

"Try to take them back in, Draco. Normally, you should start feeling uncomfortable with them out in front of us, not yet knowing whom your mate is and all that." Narcissa said delicately, longing to hug her son but unable to due to his wings.

"Just think about them going back into your back, and they should fold naturally," Lucius advised.

Draco did as his father instructed, and felt the unusual sensation of them folding in on themselves and into his back. However, now he could feel them inside of him and he longed to spread them out again, but then the thought of his mate came back.

"I felt them last night when I was going through the change," Draco said hesitantly, coming closer to his mother, who held him tightly and kissed his head. "They were unhappy and sad, but Merlin, they were powerful!"

Lucius nodded. It made sense why his son's wings should be longer than his father's and his magical reserve should be so strong –Lucius and Narcissa had felt the power of his transformation and realised that Draco's magic had increased to match his mate's.

"How powerful?"

"Not overly powerful, Father. I mean, not enough to use wandless magic unconsciously but enough to be able to use it with a lot of practice. I'm not explaining properly!" Draco sighed. "They were strong and capable of defending themselves, but also quite vulnerable. I felt their vulnerability and I felt that they were fiercely independent and that they had had no choice but to be." Draco lowered his head and spoke incredibly quietly, so much so that his parents had to lean closer to hear him. "I wanted to help them."

Lucius reared back. It was the first time that Draco had ever admitted to wanting to help someone else at no cost, and he knew that this mate of Draco's had to be some individual to be able to make his son think of something else other than himself.

"Did you feel if they were female…or male?" Lucius asked hesitantly. Their son's sexuality had long been a question for Lucius and Narcissa, Draco never being obviously heterosexual or obviously homosexual. A Veela chose their mate based on their personality and whom they felt would love them the most and whom they felt that they could love the most, and it was never based on what gender they were.

Draco lowered his head again and felt shame flood his entire being, but then he felt anger at feeling shame about his mate.

"Male." He whispered, waiting for his parents to throw him out or disown him. Surprisingly, his mother tightened her grip on him and his father stroked his hair gently.

"We don't judge your mate's gender, darling," Narcissa said. "We only judge whether they love you or not."

"I'm so confused, though," Draco continued, feeling bone-melting relief at his parents' support. "Do I love him?"

"One thing the Veela gene does, Draco, is to allow you to love that person unconditionally and with all your heart and with all your mind," Lucius said.

"It's all-encompassing." Draco murmured. "I feel like anything I want completely pales compares to what he wants. I want to do anything for him. It's so strong."

"Your inheritance never chooses someone you haven't met or someone you didn't know. You obviously knew this person beforehand, and had strong feelings regarding them." Lucius mused, thinking deeply as to who his son's mate could be.

"I never had any feelings for anyone before my inheritance," Draco admitted.

"That's the Veela gene. Whereas your mother had had numerous boyfriends before me, I had no inclination towards anyone until I saw her again." Lucius looked tenderly at his wife, who kissed his hand before turning back to their son. "The need lessens after the bond has been accepted and then completed, but it never goes."

"I know that." Draco suddenly looked nervous again and pulled the sheets around him, keeping a strong hold on his wings to make sure that they didn't come out. No one, except for him, would see them until he'd found his mate. "But what happens if I don't find him?"

"That's easily answered. You do. Your Veela scents them out. His smell will be the most alluring one you've ever smelt, and will never cease to be that way. If you don't find him after a long period of time, well…your Veela goes mad trying to and will never cease looking."

"How long?" Draco asked.

"At least six months before you start feeling anything vaguely resembling madness, but the longer you leave yourself without your mate before those six months are up, the stronger your feeling of emptiness gets."

"I feel a bit empty already." He admitted, pulling out of his mother's embrace. "I also feel a bit unsure about hugging or touching anyone."

"Side effect of your new body, my son." Lucius smiled. "You're a bit unsure about it –that's only to be expected."

"It seems I have a lot to get used to." Draco murmured.

Draco soon realised that growing more than three inches overnight had posed a problem regarding his clothes. Raising an eyebrow, he dried himself from his shower, pulled on a bathrobe and called his mother back to his room and asked her about clothes.

"That's easily fixed," Narcissa said, smiling at how distraught her son looked. "When your father first came into his inheritance, he wouldn't stop growing. He grew almost an inch every night after his inheritance, and for a seventeen-year-old male than posed some problems, especially since he was hell-bent on impressing his mate. Therefore, he asked his father to consult a spell maker and the man made a spell which allowed tailor-made clothes like yours and your father's to grow with them."

"What's the spell?" Draco asked, wrapping his bathrobe tighter around himself to hide his modesty.

"Crescere vestibus," Narcissa said, waving her wand elegantly over Draco's wardrobe. "I shall see you at breakfast, Draco. Do not be too late."

As soon as his mother was gone, Draco let his robe fall to the ground and his wings extend. They were long, very long, both of them were probably a bit taller than him, and he knew that they would grow as he grew. Touching them, he felt a shiver of longing pass through him, and he let out of soft keen that was most definitely not human. Recognising a call for his mate through his knowledge of Veela, Draco allowed his wings to wrap around him and longed to have a mate to wrap them in.

However, he knew that he could not let depression hold onto him. He would have his mate, he was a Malfoy after all, and Malfoys got what they wanted in the end. He retracted his wings and pulled on one of his favourite silver robes with emerald green snakes on the sleeves and watched it grow to fit him. Smiling widely, he looked at himself in the mirror, his perfectly brushed hair tied up in a neat ponytail, his new muscular body shown off by his newly fitting robes and his cheekbones standing out in the light. He felt like a new person and put his wand into its holster built into the sleeves.

As he walked through the Manor, he saw the portraits nod and bow at him, recognising now as one who was of age, legally and magically, and therefore as the legitimate Malfoy heir. He walked down the richly decorated stairs and entered the dining room, where his parents were both sitting; discussing whatever was in the Daily Prophet that morning. He joined them, sitting gracefully down in his chair, and wondered what else his inheritance would bring him.

Time flew, and it seemed to pass especially fast that summer, as Draco discovered astonishing increases in his magical strength and found himself growing to almost six foot four in height before he seemed to stop, completely taking over most of his year mates. The announcement that he was Head Boy had completely thrown him off his feet as well, knowing the old man who ruled the school wished to trust him enough with such a position of responsibility.

It was about three weeks before the start of term, and Draco was feeling the absence of his mate every day before the start of term. He felt nervous but he also felt a deep sense of longing and often found it difficult to go to sleep at night, his longing for his mate was so overpowering. He had taken to sleeping wrapped in his wings, and after he had almost attacked his mother for seeing them, he had forbidden anyone from entering his room without his express permission.

He had decided to tell his closest friends what had happened to him over the summer. His nerves were through the roof by the time all his friends –Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson– had made it to the Manor.

"Right, Draco, you better hurry up and tell us what's up, because I'm not sitting down here in this silence for a moment longer." Said the ever-frank Parkinson girl. She knew that she was not particularly pretty, with her curly black hair and unusual, very pale, blue eyes, and she hid her uncertainty about her beauty under a sharp tongue. She had therefore been very surprised when the Malfoy Heir had offered the hand of friendship to her. Draco had seen the power behind her tongue, and she was incredibly useful in seeing the trustworthiness in anyone and knowing all the gossip.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle prided themselves on being the Leader of Slytherin's personal guards. They took Draco's safety very seriously, and would most certainly injure themselves severely before letting any harm come to him. Their little group were the rulers of Slytherin after the previous Leader had left the House, and they knew that they were feared for their undying loyalty to the young Malfoy Heir.

Blaise Zabini was the mysterious part-Italian, part-French Slytherin spy. He was incredible at getting behind anyone's defenses and charmingly worming his way into their deepest secrets. As such, not many people trusted or liked him, but Malfoy and his other friends trusted him implicitly, and thus he trusted them back. Over time, it had developed into a loyal friendship, and Blaise knew that he would fight hard for his friends.

Draco knew all this when he looked at them and decided to take the plunge. They would either be calm, welcoming waters or a murky sea of chaos and tangled weeds.

"I came into my inheritance in June." He started.

"Ah! I knew it!" Pansy said, jumping from her seat and pointing at him. She coughed slightly and sat back down when Blaise glared in exasperation at her. "That's why you left early!"

"Indeed," Draco said, smiling at his friend. "It was quite necessary to do so, I assure you. It would have been detrimental to you all if I had remained."

"What inheritance did you come into?" Blaise asked, having already come into his inheritance earlier on in the year. "I can see you've changed -and for the better at that." He said, ever the one to notice a change in appearance. Of them all, he had been the one with the most obvious sexuality – he loved flaunting the fact he was homosexual and making the most conservative Slytherins uncomfortable around him.

"I am a Veela." He announced and watched carefully for their reactions. Blaise raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in surprise, Pansy frowned, and Crabbe and Goyle grunted.

"Doesn't affect us so long as you keep being you," Crabbe said frankly, speaking for Goyle as well. Their minds often ran along the same lines.

"I guess you haven't found your mate yet?" Pansy asked, looking closely at her friend.

"No," Draco said shortly, unwilling to discuss his mate any further than was completely necessary.

"I knew it!" Blaise jumped up and waved his black silk scarf above his head triumphantly in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "I am no longer the only one!"

"Huh?" Goyle asked, but Pansy caught on quickly.

"It's a boy!" she gasped.

"Does that mean Draco's gay?" Crabbe asked, scratching his head. This was too much. "You love a boy and you dunno who he is?"

"Exactly, Crabbe," Draco said. "Just stick to that conclusion for the moment."

Blaise sat back down, smiling widely in an even more unusual display of his feelings.

"According to the books we covered in fifth year about Veela, you've got until December until you start going mad for your mate."

Draco snorted.

"I'm already going crazy for him. But it's quite bearable." He paused as a thought struck him. "Hang on, how did you know that when I didn't?"

"I listened, you idiot. You thought you knew everything, having been brought up with the knowledge you could become one." Blaise said, chuckling. "But I suppose this year'll be more interesting than the last, what with Potter and his friends being quite uninteresting in their sixth year."

Pansy sighed in exasperation and turned back to Draco.

"Just so you know, if you dare hide anything from us we'll kill you. Got that?" she asked, smiling widely. "Good." She said, when Draco nodded, knowing better than to argue with his friend.

He could not wait until term started.

A/N: Right, so here it is. No regular updates, though I will try to update as much as possible. This fic will not be abandoned by any stretch of the imagination, just so that you know that.