Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning: This is a slash fanfiction, which means male on male. It will also have slight beastality scenes.

The moon hung in the midnight sky like a luminous orb, its full form casting beams onto a tranquil lake. A tiger, so white it seemed to glow where the stripes did not melt into the darkness walked majestically to a small lake and bent over to lap at the liquid.

The previously tranquil water rippled away from the pink invader, making the reeds sway .

Behind it, the trees rattled violently and the tiger immediately became alert, perking its ears for the telltale sign of predator or prey. As it got closer, the tiger's dagger-sharp claws protruded from the skin membrane sheaths.

Suddenly, a boy of no older then seventeen emerged from the groves of trees, lacerations seeping crimson blood, tattered robes hanging off of his lithe body. As the boy's eyes met the tiger', they widened in shock. His face, already pale from loss of blood, grew impossibly whiter. In an instant, the boy's eyes rolled back in his head and he sank to the ground, unconscious. He woke up to hell. His head was aching as if he had the worst hangover in over a century. In fact, the hangover probably would have felt better. With his eyes still closed, he massaged his throbbing temples and opened his eyes slowly. As soon as he opened them, he knew something was wrong. He was in a cave lying on a pallet made of some kind of furs and covered by a larger, even softer fur than the ones beneath me to soften the rock ground. In fact, he couldn't even feel the ground. He looked around, wondering who had brought me here. Hopefully, it was a kind person. The Hogwarts style floating candles showered the cave with light, making it able for me to see properly. They, whoever it was, had already dressed his wounds and washed him. He greened a bit at the thought of someone else scrubbing him clean. They had also redressed him, as he felt the cold silk slide across his flesh.

The boy got up gingerly, not wanting inflict anymore pain to his already scarred body.

"Hello?" he called, his voice raspy from lack of use. Silence answered his calling. "Hello?" he repeated, his call louder. He moved closer to the entrance of the cave, but not so far away that if a dizzy spell came over him that he would fall and break a bone, making it even worse than it already was.

'Don't you dare move.'

The boy flipped around at the sound of the voice in his head. If the source could get back in to human form, he would have smirked, but Potter would probably hemorrhage. The entire wizarding world hadn't seen him since my sixteenth birthday, the day that he was bound to his form because of his veela inheritance.

When a person has large amount of veela heritage in their family (on both his mum and my father's side), when a child turns sixteen, they transform into their soul animal, his obviously being a white tiger. They stay that way until they bond to their mates, the person that completes them. They would bond both emotionally and physically through the three steps. Let's just say, when his mother told him that both sides of his parents had veela blood in them and that made him more than half veela, he was more than angry; he was livid. She told him that her mother hadn't told her until her sixteenth birthday, and the same with his father. But it's all said and done. He grew accustomed to my tiger form and was even able to do some human things. It had many pros, one being that since he lived in the Forbidden Forest, he could keep a look out for his mate at Hogwarts. He quietly observed the students, and had even let himself be coaxed to be the subject of a few Care of Magical Creatures classes. For some reason, it felt as though something was calling to him, so he never had the will to leave the school's sight. Strangely, the beacon had ceased as soon as the students went home for the summer, so he knew it wasn't a teacher. Thank the Gods for that, anyway. But now that Hogwart's own "Golden Boy" was in the lair of the tiger- he chuckled to himself at his own joke- the longing returned.

If Harry was indeed his mate, then hell. He had been "warned" that his male could possibly be male, but secretly he was glad about that. He had, in his fourth year, become acquainted with his homosexuality, so it was a relief. The idea of doing anything sexual with a girl made him long to retch in to the nearest toilet. He entreated to the Gods that he would be male. Besides finding out that he was gay, he came to know that he didn't hate Harold James Potter. More like, he just wanted his attention. He didn't call Ronald Weasel when Harry wasn't round, or Hermione Mudblood. In fact, he had even become 'friends' with the bushy haired Gryffindor. Only around him did he find himself wanting to be an officious little prick. He had quite the obsession with the obsidian haired Gryffindor. So for him to be his mate would be a miracle.

'Don't move.' the voice ordered again in his head and Harry looked at the tiger, astonished.

"Did you just say something to me?" The tiger stared at him as if he was a rather dull child

'No, it was that little bug crawling over there. Of course it was me! I'm the only thing in here apart from you,' the tiger said in his mind sarcastically. 'Lay down. You're not fit to be up,' the tiger lectured sternly, like Madam Pomfrey would have if she had been treating him

He butted his head against Harry's thigh.

"Are you going to eat me?" Harry asked hesitantly, looking at the white tiger apprehensively. If the tiger could have laughed, he would have. Instead, he settled himself for a nice, toothy smile.

'Sorry, but I prefer little woodland creatures. Not that you wouldn't taste good in a totally different way…' Harry blushed deeply. 'Now sit down.' the tiger sounded arrogant, and Harry swore he knew that tone of voice. But from where?

The tiger pushed him down with a particularly hard butt to the thigh and Harry landed with a small poof. The tiger surveyed Harry from above him, and then settled down with his massive forepaws stretched across the tiny boy's lap making sure that he would stay down.

"You don't have to do that." Harry pointed out, obeying the silent order as stay down.

'So?' the tiger purred contentedly in his lap.

"Fine. Be that way." Harry said stubbornly, but there was the slightest hint of a smile in his voice.

'I will.' They stayed that way for about five minutes, Harry mulled over his thoughts.

"What can I call you?" he asked the tiger politely. If he was going to stay with it for a while, then he would have to call it something. Harry's emerald eyes met icy sapphire optics that held strange warmth to them.

'You may call me Dra--Ice. You may call me Ice.'

Author's Note: I would like to thank ZachariasAingeal for pointing out the mistakes I made. I would appreicate it if you would review and I am also still looking for a beta. If you are interested, see my bio and e-mail me.