"Fuck!" exclaimed Draco Malfoy, trying not to vomit. "That tastes like stale testicles!"
"I had to increase the dosage again," said Severus Snape and retrieved the small vial from Draco's clutching hand. "You are getting old."
"I'm thirty one!" gagged Draco, washing away the disgusting taste of the potion with a double whisky.
"You should have been dead ten years ago…"
"You should have been dead twelve years ago!"
Snape smirked, consciously scratching the red scar on his neck that no glamours or spells would hide. Draco sat down in his favourite chair by the fire, looking down at the refilled glass in his hand. He observed the flames while Snape sorted out the travel-kit of medications. Several small clear bags of blue powder were placed in the leather pouch. He noticed that, indeed, the dosage had increased.
"How much time do I have left?" asked Draco.
"I don't know," Severus sighed. "I have never heard of a veela living as long as you have without a mate; I have told you this before. We can not keep increasing the medications forever."
"I thought you would jump at the opportunity of collecting more ingredients." Draco was frustrated and stabbed the armrest repeatedly with his wand, burning holes in the fabric.
"Jerking off and bleeding young veelas has indeed been an entertaining task these ten years," agreed Severus. "But the fact remains; you are dying without a mate."
"Well my mate is dead!" Draco threw his glass at the fire. "What would you have me do?"
"Find someone else, and pray that he is strong enough to keep you alive."
"You are going to ruin that chair."
Draco pulled his wand away, leaning back. He did not want to think about getting a new mate. He had a mate, dead and buried. Cedric Diggory had died at the age of seventeen; Draco had been fifteen. Neither of them had been old enough to establish a veela-relationship. Pre-destined mate, my arse.
"It's not like I can go pulling in bars," smirked Draco. "And besides there is the family…"
"I don't believe Lucius cares about keeping family secrets any more," interrupted Severus also sitting down by the fire.
"I'll lose my job," argued Draco.
"You'll lose your life."
"You don't know that! You said you did not know!"
"Draco," Severus looked down at his long fingers before him. "I'm living on borrowed time myself. Your family's blood keeps Nagini's poison at bay, but the infection is still spreading through my body."
"You are dying?" Draco felt his throat narrow.
"We are all dying one way or another…" Severus smirked. "But…" he hesitated. "Draco, your blood is not potent enough anymore to help me."
"But… farther… mother…"
"They have strong blood, but you are the main ingredient, since you were the first…"
Draco remembered. He had kneeled by the body of his godfather in the shrieking shack. Slowly crying, he had opened a vain and had let his healing veela blood drop to Severus lips. He had been young, not even eighteen; not mature. The blood had saved Severus, not cured him.
He was about to do some more fruitless arguing, but was interrupted by the floo. The face of top-Unspeakable Angelina Johnson rose in the flames.
"What?" Draco snapped at her. "I'm on vacation!"
"We have an emergency," she said, ignoring his tone of voice. "Harry Potter has escaped."
"Who is there?" called Aberforth Dumbledore and raised his wand with a much wrinkled hand. "You are scaring my goats!"
"It is just me," said Harry Potter and dislodged himself from the shadows.
"Harry?" the old man opened the door more widely for Harry to enter. "What are you doing here?"
"I need your help…"
Harry looked around and raised an eyebrow. The kitchen was occupied by about seven goats. He could hear the sounds of more of the animals in the adjoining rooms. Abe had apparently brought his obsession to another level. The wizard must be over a hundred years by now, some eccentrics were allowed.
"Are you hungry?" asked Abe and stepped over to the stove, shooing a small yew out of his way.
"Yes…" Harry fought back a sudden urge to attack one of the goats.
"How can I help you?" Abe returned with some vegetable stew and gestured for Harry to sit down at the kitchen table.
"I need to leave the country," he looked in dismay at the carrots floating in the stew. "They will come looking for me…"
"I'm a werewolf, Abe," sighed Harry and rubbed his brow. "It has been a secret for so long…"
Aberforth had paled significantly, his blue eyes scanning the room. He rose from his seat and calmly began to collect his goats, steering them gently to the other room. Harry gave a small pained smile.
"It has been a secret for quite some time," said Harry again, tasting the stew. "It would not look good if the saviour of the wizarding world was hauled off to some kind of creature camp once a month. I could not have done half the charity work I've done if they knew. So we kept it secret…" He shrugged. "Not such a good idea, now in hindsight."
"What happened?" Abe was closing the door behind the goats, knowing quite well that the wood would not hold Harry at bay, but at least the temptation was out of sight.
"I was found out…" Harry leaned back. "Never mind how. It will be all over the papers tomorrow. I need to get out of the country until this settles down. Hermione will try to fix a court date, but the fact still stands: I have been unregistered for over a decade. The Unspeakables will be after me soon."
"Where would you go?"
"There is a werewolf colony outside Bourgogne; Bill Weasley recommended it to me. I just need help to get over the Channel, they took my wand."
"What about your wandless magic?"
"Out of practice," Harry winced, feeling guilty. "There is really no need for that much powerful magic when practicing juridical law. And anyway, it leaves too big a trail to follow."
"Can't you go the Muggle way?"
"They'll be looking for me, too big a risk."
"What will they do if they find you?"
"Jail," Harry shrugged again. "Heavy fines, lockdown of all my accounts – including the charity ones, interrogations… Probably not castration, but there is talk of sterilization circulating among the anti-creature supporters…"
They sat quietly contemplating this. From the other room came the braying of the goats. Harry tried not to give in to temptation, not that he wanted to eat a raw goat – it was just pure instinct.
"Full moon is two days away…" mused Abe. "That means you have to be in Bourgogne tomorrow."
"Yeah, they could not have chosen a worse time to expose me," growled Harry. "I think they wanted me to make a rash decision…"
"I think I have a way…" the old man did not look happy. "I'll try to set something up in the morning."
Draco searched though Harry Potter's room. Potter lived in a spare room at the house of Ron and Hermione Weasley, his business partner. They had a part law firm, part lobby-group concentrated on creature law. He had already searched though the offices, under Granger's watchful angry eyes. He had found nothing there and left for the Weasel home. Draco was not surprised over the living arrangement; a werewolf needed minders that were trustworthy.
This was a task he should normally revel in, but instead he felt uneasy. It probably had to do with Ronald Weasley standing in the doorway watching him. The infuriating man held a very ginger toddler boy in his arms. Draco pulled out the top drawer of the bureau and turned it upside down. A pile of underwear in different colours fell to the floor. He kicked them around with the tip of his boot, trying not to be turned on. Potter had quite an unexpected fashion sense when it came to underwear.
"You won't find him in there," said Weasley with a snort.
"Shut up!" Draco glared at him as he turned the next drawer over, dropping t-shirts on top of the underwear. "You are still under suspicion!"
"Me too!" shouted the toddler. "Me too!"
"Yes," Draco smiled his most evil smile at the child. "You too!"
The boy let out a joyous sound as Draco tore away the red bedspread on Harry's bed and discarded it to the corner.
There were three pictures on the nightstand; Draco looked at them. One of Potter's parents, a wedding picture of Ron and Hermione, and a picture of Harry holding the toddler, somewhat younger, on his shoulders. The man was hot! Too bad he was an infuriating idiot, and a werewolf at that. He probably had lice.
"Why would you hide something like this anyway?" he asked, putting the picture down.
"It was the best choice at the time," Ron shrugged. "Harry wanted to protect Teddy and…"
"Teddy?" Draco stopped stripping the bed of sheets. "Teddy Lupin? My cousin?"
"That's the one," Ron winced a bit as his son made a growl, showed his tiny teeth and put is small fingers up as claws. "Teddy's the werewolf that bit Harry."
Draco stared at the growling child. Ron shifted his stance, looking both defiant and worried.
"This was when?" Draco tried to hold back the laughter threatening to escape his throat; this was too good to be true.
"About eleven years ago…"
"Harry Potter, the slayer of Voldemort, our saviour…" he laughed. "Beaten by a four year old…" He had to sit down on the bed to collect himself, grinning widely.
"A four year old werewolf" Ron pointed out, but it was clear that he found it quite amusing too.
Damn it, he was sharing a laugh with the Weasel! Guh!
"Where is he?" asked Draco, suddenly serious.
"I don't know," Ron sighed and let his son down on the floor. "He wouldn't tell us."
Draco nodded, looking around the room; there was nothing here.
"Okay…" he rose from the bed stepping over to Potter's desk, looking though the mess he had made. "Known associates, possible suspects…" Finding a quill and an empty parchment, he began to write. "Weasleys… Where is your brother Bill?"
The toddler made another impression of a werewolf, and kicked the pile of underwear on the floor. Draco smiled, warming up to the small boy.
"Caleb, stop that," Ron scowled. "Bill has nothing to do with this!"
"I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much."
"You're welcome!" said Caleb looking up at him with pure admiration in his brown eyes.
Both Draco and Ron snorted a laugh over this. They met eyes and Draco scowled at the redhead. Had they just shared a joke? He has got to get out of here.
Ten minutes later Draco stood outside Bill Weasleys seaside cottage. There he hesitated, knowing what was waiting inside. Bill's wife was part veela; she would know her own kind and therefore she could not lie to him. If she knew where Potter was she'd tell him.
Draco mixed some of the blue powder in his dragon-skin water bottle. As he swallowed the foul tasting concoction, the door of the cottage opened.
"Who is there?" he heard a female voice call with a slight French accent.
Harry held on to the big crate of goat cheese, lightened by a spell. A French fine food grocer had for a long time been asking Aberforth for a home made cheese like this. Harry was delivering it. Cleared with an alibi, a registered permission to carry food across the border, a false name, a subtle glamour and a delivery uniform, Harry was ready to cross the channel by ferry.
He was trying not to stare at his own face morphing to a wolf on the front page of the Prophet in the news stand. His blood was boiling and it was not only because it was only two nights until the full moon.
It was despicable how short a memory most people had. Harry had sacrificed everything, even his own life to save them. Years later, the only thing that got them off was tearing him and all he built around him down. Never mind the lives he saved, and still was saving by his lobby group and extensive charity work. Never mind the fact that he was a thinking feeling person.
Harry admitted that the decision to run and hide was, indeed, a bit rash, but still reasonable. He had to keep away from the court; if he had a criminal record he and his entire work would be canon fodder for his political opponents. The news about him being a werewolf was even bigger than the one about him being gay six years previously. Most persons tolerated gay people; nearly nobody tolerated werewolves. All Harry's hard work advocating the acceptance for sentient creatures was now accused of being a selfish ploy. And that was not the worst thing. The worst thing was how they had found out.
Teddy Lupin, the only metamorphmagus werewolf currently alive and likewise innocent fourteen-year-old boy had been exposed. The boy's special, and therefore fragile, condition had given him heart-trouble and made it necessary for the Hogwarts infirmary to register him on St. Mungo's watch list.
For "the sake of worried parents and the public interests" Teddy had been thoroughly investigated as the oddity he was. Then there came the confession from the broken down boy of his one and only bite victim: Harry Potter.
Harry could have killed them all. And he would probably have succeeded doing so andestablishing himself as the new Dark Lord in the process, if not Andromeda, Hermione and Teddy himself, had talked him out of it. Ron on the other hand, was all for helping him to storm the Ministry, and the Prophet, and St. Mungos. That was why Harry's blood was now boiling. He moved towards the ferry as it began to let people aboard.
"You can stop there, Potter," said Draco Malfoy putting a wand to his throat.
"And you have done this why?" Severus asked Draco, while eyeing Harry Potter chained to the dungeon wall.
The Hero Turned Werewolf was currently scowling at both of them. He did not seem to appreciate the situation and tried the strength of the magical chains around his wrists.
"I did what you told me to!" protested Draco, busy mixing a new bottle of his medicine.
"I told you to kidnap Potter? That does not sound like me."
"You told me to find a strong mate; they don't come any stronger than this." Draco pointed to Potter who had frozen at the word 'mate'.
"I believe that the increasing dosage of your medicine has lowered your judgments." Severus sighed. "You have clearly lost your ability for coherent thought."
Draco sneered at him and downed the concoction.
"It is not kidnapping, anyway. I'm simply holding a dangerous prisoner for the Ministry. I'm allowed to do that!"
"Excuse me?" Potter cleared his throat. "Did you say 'mate'? What the fuck, Malfoy?
"Shut up, Potter." Draco rubbed his forehead; he did indeed not feel as sharp as he should be. "Have you fed them yet?"
"Yes, I have." Severus looked disdainfully at Potter. "They enjoyed the cheese."
"Hey! That was Abe's cheese!"
Draco looked at his prisoner-would-be-reluctant-mate and sighed.
"Harry…" the almost foul word was uncomfortable in his mouth. "I'm doing this for your sake."
"My sake?" Potter snorted and pulled on his chains. "What the fuck, Malfoy?" he repeated.
"I could turn you in right now, you flea infested mutt!" He sneered and bent down; placing his face so close to Potter's that their noses nearly touched. "But I have decided to wait until after the full moon."
"Fuck with the questions, wolf! Because I need you at your most powerful, that's why."
"Severus needs some ingredients," Draco smiled evilly, letting the tips of their noses touch.
"Yes," muttered Severus, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Blame this madness on me, why don't you?" He suddenly sounded very disgusted as a thought seemed to enter his mind. "I'm not milking him!"
Potter paled several shades; Draco thought he was quite adorable like this.
"Don't worry, Sev. I will happily do that myself."
Draco felt his smirk connect to his veela soul and knew his eyes had glittered with predatory delight. Potter was now nearly white as all blood left his face. Draco licked his lips.
"Is this the way you treat all your dates?" snarled Potter.
"You are special, furball. I'm going to check in on my parents," Draco said, rising to stand.
"I'm leaving for Blaise at the gate house in an hour," Severus began to pull small glass vials from his robes and put them on the floor in front of Potter. "I'm not staying here with a raging werewolf."
"I thought Cassandra had the wizard flu," Draco paused in the doorway.
"I rather take my chances with a snotty two-year-old than with a wanton werewolf and a hormone-blinded veela, thank you."
"I'm not wanton!" protested Potter and then shifted his gaze to Draco. "You are a veela?"
"Yes, Potter, I'm a fucking bird! And I'm not hormone-blinded!"
Draco left the dungeons in a rage.
"Exactly what is going on here, Snape?" asked Harry, looking curiously at the vials on the floor. "What are you doing?"
"I'm collecting your blood, Potter." Snape tapped his wand with the nail of his middle finger. "Werewolf blood is a rare ingredient, since not so many can get to it this close to the full moon. And anyway…" he sighed. "I need your blood's magical signature if I am to brew wolfsbane for you."
Harry sat quiet as Snape put the tip of the wand to his skin. There was a small sting as his skin was cut. Snape took up a vial and placed it to the small wound, letting the blood trickle down. As he changed vials, Snape looked up to his face.
"You are more compliant than I thought."
"What is the use?" Harry gave him a tiny smile. "And, if you are making wolfsbane, I might as well comply."
Snape nodded at this. There were some moments of silence before Harry spoke again.
"What is this about a mate?"
"Draco's mate is dead; he is dying without him…" Snape sounded calm, kind even – it boggled the mind. "I've been keeping him alive with potions made of different veela fluids for the last twelve years, but he is getting immune to them."
Snape changed to a new vial and murmured something to keep the cut in Harry's arm open.
"So now he is looking for a new mate?" Harry laughed, looking round the dungeons and the chains that bound him. "It is a hell of a way to ask for a date."
"I agree," Snape smirked and changed vials. "You have to excuse him; he is hormone-blinded… and you are wanton."
"I am not!" Harry knew he protested in vain, the chains were quite a turn on.
"What ever you say, Potter." He filled the last vial and healed the cut with a whisper. "The bulge in your pants tells me otherwise."
"It's full moon tomorrow," he protested, looking down in a blush. "I'll be changing in a couple of hours."
"My, my, Potter." Snape rose to his feet. "Who would have known your kink is to turn in to a wolf?"
"Yes, I think I will…" The dark man organised his vials of blood. "Always good to go to the bathroom before Apparating."
"Wait," Harry bit his lip. "Draco's parents… They… they live here?"
"Yes," Snape suddenly looked sad. "They were delivered right after they both received the Kiss."
"I remember hearing there was some commotion with that, but I never found out what it was."
"Draco was quite good at covering it up. And the Ministry was quite happy to help him, they were a bit embarrassed."
"They are both of veela blood, Potter." Snape glared at him. "What do you think happened?"
"I don't know…" Harry looked away, feeling guilty – it was his fault they had received the Kiss.
"The Kiss takes away your mind, brat. You take away a veela's mind, what do you have?"
"A bird of prey, Potter." Snape was leaning against the doorpost, looking very sad and tired. "They would never had been Kissed if anyone knew, but Malfoys keep their secrets to the end. Draco was in a holding cell at the time." Snape gave a sudden bitter private laugh. "I have often pondered if Lucius let himself be Kissed as a kind of last revenge."
"You mean because the guards expected a lifeless shell of a man and got a ravenous big bird instead?"
"Two of them," Snape smiled sadly. "They really did not expect Narcissa to be one too. It was actually entertaining to watch, in a very disturbing sort of way."
"Thank you for telling me," Harry tried the chains again, he wished he had not stopped his wandless magic training. "What is Draco going to do with me? He can't really expect I'll be his mate after this... I mean…" He sighed and admitted defeat. "I mean after our hormones go down again. Are werewolves and veelas even compatible?"
"Veelas are impervious to the lyca-virus. If that is what you are asking. But as long as you have strong magic and a cock, I don't think Draco cares about compatibility."
With this Snape left Harry alone.
"Don't worry, Potter. I'm not going to rape you."
"I'm not worried."
Draco sat down on the floor next to Potter with his back to the wall. He had to win his confidence first.
"I will try to help Teddy Lupin, he is my cousin after all. I hate what they did to him."
"You read that?"
"'Harry Potter bitten by baby werewolf'? How could I not?"
"It was not like I could stun him, he was just a baby.
Draco snorted, Potter glared.
"Look, I don't like you…"
"Heartbreaker," mocked Potter. "And I thought we had something special going on. I saw you eyeing me at that charity event last year."
"Shut up, you mutt!"
"Why don't you make me, you chicken."
Draco enjoyed the bantering, it was like old times, but he knew that he wanted to reason with Potter before the man's tiny mind left him for the change. He sighed.
"Potter, listen to me. I am an Unspeakable, and I'm bending the rules to the breaking point here. I can hold prisoners here if I deem them too dangerous for direct transfer. I think Ican even negotiate you being here until your court date."
"I have not sedated you, and I have not asked for backup. That is against regulation."
"And you want to mate with me, which can not be in the rule book."
"I don't want to mate you, furball!" Draco shuddered. "I need you to save my life."
"No pressure then," Potter murmured in a sour voice.
Draco looked down at his hands, knowing that he had to gain Potter's trust. There were probably other, better choices for at least a temporary mate – but they were not here, and he was hormone-blinded. He was a grown man in his thirties, why was he suddenly acting like an infatuated teenager? The sight of Potter in those chains was disturbingly hot.
"Harry," the name seemed to burn a hole in his tongue. "It is not just my life. Severus isdependent on my blood to hold the snake poison at bay. My parents would be sold to a freak show for sure. I am a good Unspeakable; I have saved lives. Blaise is tending to the manor grounds; he would never find another job with his Azkaban-record…"
"He is married to Ginny, Draco." Potter sounded bitter. "I know all about that."
"And further more…"
"Shut up, bird brain!" Potter snapped. "You had me at 'I don't like you'"
Draco closed his mouth and stared at the werewolf.
"I'm not particularly fond of you ether, Draco. But if you have noticed; it is kind of my life's mission to save people, and I lobby for creatures…. You seem to fit in both categories. By the way," he gave Draco a wicked smile, "Are you on our donor list?"
"I'll sign up tomorrow," Draco narrowed his eyes. "I won't even base the donation on your performance."
"You could not afford it, Malfoy."
"I'm saving your semen, though."
"Why?" frowned Potter.
"If you leave me, then I need it for a potion to keep me alive long enough to find you and kill you."
Potter gave him a smirk.
Harry gripped the chains for support. He leaned forward, leaning his forehead on his tightened hands. They had agreed that this would be the best way. During the embarrassing discussion, Harry had come to a conclusion; he also needed a mate. Not in the same desperate way Malfoy needed one, but still. His secret condition had made a real relationship impossible and, he thought, this was better than nothing. At least there where genuine feelings between himself and Malfoy – whatever the form they now would be.
His thoughts were pushed away by smooth slippery fingers that roamed over his backside and cheeks and he could feel the heat of a breath dancing over his skin by the tailbone. There was a scratching of teeth and lips over the sides of his crack. The soft lips and hard teeth began to move over the base of his spine and upwards.
There were hands stroking his arse, kneading it hard. Draco took great care in caressing every ridge of the spine with his mouth. As Draco reached the shoulder blades bordering near the neck, a finger had found its way into Harry's needy hole. It felt like he was going to weep from pure pleasure. Harry's breathing heightened, feeling the power of the wolf under his skin. He turned his head, breath coming in short puffs, legs spreading wider.
"Soon." He could feel Draco's smirk against his neck, biting down.
There was a slight burn as Draco added a second finger. Harry's pleasure senses nearly overloaded as he pushed back against the fingers. Licking, biting, kisses flickered over his shoulders, making him growl. Draco's other hand positioned the glass vile over his hard cock, not letting Harry forget his task. But there was gripping too, and movement. The cold glass on the head of his warm cock was almost enough to make him come.
"Do you want this?"
"Fuck, Malfoy! Just get on with it!"
Draco pulled out his fingers, positioning the vile with a better grip with both his hands around Harry's agonizing hard-on. Something thick and slippery pressed against Harry's hole. Harry's thighs spread even further, clinging to the chains even harder, pushing the top of his head against the stone wall.
"God, you're so hot." Draco breathed. "Push back against me."
And then he pushed his cock inside of Harry. The burning was almost a relief from the tormenting fingers. Harry's eyes pressed closed. Draco started moving, slowly, then faster with every push ripping gasps and feral growls from Harry's throat.
Draco grunted and released a screeching, almost bird-like, sound. He was fucking Harry harder, holding firmly on to the vial, and thereby also Harry's cock.
The tingling in his groin intensified, rushing to tight balls.
"Draco -" he gasped and came, clenching hard around the cock in his arse and making Draco screech out again and thrust even more fiercely.
He followed only moments after, falling on top of Harry when he had spent himself.
Harry smiled, despite the ache in his shoulders from hanging in the chains. Draco rolled off him and pulled himself out, sitting down against the wall.
"Okay?" Draco asked, sounding surprisingly insecure.
"Brilliant." Harry breathed and glanced to his side at the blond.
He widened his eyes to what felt like tea plates, almost forgetting the post-orgasmic tingles running though his body. Draco had wings.
Huge, fucking, white, feathery wings.
Draco stood on the threshold of the conservatory, feeling quite pleased with himself. At this moment Harry The Wolf was raging in his dungeon cell. Draco could not hear it but he felt it; the whole house felt it. He felt better than he had in years. The wings still hung heavy and post-orgasmic on his back.
Lucius and Narcissa sat on a pile of once fine and expensive bedclothes that they had ripped to shreds and moulded to a nest. Their yellow beaks pushed together, arms folded around each others bodies, their wings rigid. They were clearly nervous over the strange presence of something dangerous. Draco sighed and walked over to them. Narcissa made a shriek, holding out her arms for her chick.
"It's fine, mother," whispered Draco taking her clawed, soft feathered, hand and letting her pull him into the nest. "It's fine."
She stroked her forehead over his cheek, making crooning noises. Lucius cocked his head from side to side, made a soft screech and leaned in to his son.
Draco sighed again and relaxed. They would get used to the wolf being there soon enough.