"Oh mmmm, yes oh, Draco, Draco, yes, oh, Draco, yes, yes, yes, oh, Draco mmmm…."

Draco Malfoy liked to fuck.

It wasn't a commonly known fact because he preferred to keep his heartfelt passions to himself, but were the truth to be told, he was quite possibly a sex addict. He liked the power held over the other party, male or female, either were fine by him just as long as they obeyed his rules and didn't make a mess of his bed. He supposed that it would be easier to stay tidy and clean were he to take his pleasure further afield than his bedroom, but when it came down to it, he had the best sheets and the best bed and the best… everything. Why bother sneaking off to canoodle in some abandoned cupboard or that draughty old Astronomy Tower when he had all the comforts needed at his fingertips and more privacy than a few of the Professors?

"Oh mmmm, yes oh just there, yeah like that, Draco, oh Merlin yes, Draco yes, oh, Draco, yes, yes, yes, oh, Draco mmmm…."

He had more mirrors in his room, at one point, than even the great vain pain himself, Gilderoy Lockhart, but had recently replaced them with a large, ornate mirror, spanning an entire wall so that he could observe his every move. He liked the sheen sex gave him, most people sweat profusely during intercourse, huffing and grunting like pigs with great fat droplets of perspiration running into their eyes and scrunching up their already comically twisted mid-coitus faces. Draco shone as if someone had taken a cloth and polished his bright, white flesh to a high shine, the dazzling clarity of the light liquid coating his limbs beautiful to look at, sweet to smell and taste to boot.

"Oh yes, yes, Draco, Draco, mmmm I'm close, so close, yes, Draco, yes, Draco, Draco, Draco, Draaaacoooooo…"

Draco winced, glancing distastefully at the wildly flopping, moaning form currently wrapped around his cock. Didn't she know any other words beside his name and 'oh gods yes mmmm'? He couldn't recall the last time he'd been this bored, but then he should have known that fucking a Ravenclaw would be like that. He had quietly hoped that she'd have read up on every sex practice going and come prepared to bend into many an intriguing position, but instead all he had was another hopeless amateur and yet another notch in his bedpost.

He finished off himself then, a few quick thrusts, a sigh and smile, passed the disappointed girl her clothes and ushered her out the door before strolling back to sprawl disconsolately across his bed. The girl (he forgot her name, there'd been so many today) hadn't been disappointed in terms of his 'lovemaking skills'. In fact, going by the annoying dampness and tang of the sheets beneath him, Draco could easily assume she'd possibly had a better time than he. Muttering a quick cleaning charm over his bed and body, Draco dragged black silk boxers over his hips and set about settling his paperwork.

He'd had 8 Ravenclaws, 5 Slytherins, 2 Gryffindors and 12 Hufflepuffs that day and none of them had done more than leave him tired, and with a vaguely unclean sensation.

Ticking off the appropriate boxes, he scowled once more at his predicament. Sure, he loved to do the deed, but do it with everyone of legal age and correct lineage in Hogwarts? Silently cursing his parents and grandparents and their grandparents all the way back to the first ever Malfoy, he reviewed his plight as he did each day before bed.

Draco was six-eighths Veela. There was a rule in the wizarding world about part Veela's breeding with other part Veela's, but either his family had decided that such rules were beneath them as per usual or truly no-one had known that his Great Aunt Laurenthalas had been ¾ Veela. Now as an almost perfect hybrid of the Veela/Magi crossbreed he was being pressured to find his mate before he lost all natural Veela magic that would befall him on his 17th birthday, which was a mere week and a half away. Natural Veela possessed many great powers and as a powerful blend of wizard and Veela, his powers would increase greatly. However, in order for him to receive said powers he had to have first found and taken a mate by midnight on his birthday. This would not, of course, have been a problem, but they had only discovered his true heritage a few months previously and ever since then he had been lost in a whirl of potential mates and power lectures combined with all the usual problems bestowed upon a young wizard. He sighed. They had told him that a simple handshake could be all it took to find his mate, but without his Veela instincts, it was very hard to sense exactly who it might be.

The specialist his father had brought in to consult with his new-found keepers Snape and Pomfrey had told them that as the majority of Draco's year was spent at Hogwarts, he was most likely to have already selected a mate from the hundreds of other students milling around him each day. It was, they were told, a great pity, because true Veela crosses were hard to find and were generally raised in seclusion so that they might seek out a mate of their own pedigree without the hassle of social interaction. Having spent his years of sexual development in such a varied atmosphere, his mate could literally be anyone from the spindly first years who looked at him with such fear and awe, to the professors, but 'that' was a route he had decided to deny himself. He'd become a squib before he accepted the possibility of having to mate for life with Dumbledore or Hagrid.

Unlike normal Veela, who mate for life and are inseparable and highly protective of their mates, Draco would go into a heat roughly every six weeks and only his chosen mate would be able to satisfy the hunger. This did mean, in fact, that the mating would be for life, but also that there would be less of the insane murderous jealousy known as the trademark of the possessive Veela. This pleased Draco, who had been taken to observe a full Veela in a room with her mate, her frenzied eyes following their every move as if they might steal away her love at any moment. He feared the connection between such a couple, and knowing his life would be consumed by his own mate for at least a day every six weeks was enough to make Draco continue his search for his 'other half'.

Such passion must mean great power, he mused, idly toying with his wand as he surveyed the remaining few he had chosen on his list. Draco could actually feel his powers growing as his birthday grew closer. He could tell now when someone walked into the room whether it was even worth a sampling, just as he could tell when and where he'd been before with a person, his aura a virtual brand upon them. Sometimes all it took was a hand upon their skin to measure his attraction to them, but mostly he preferred to use his new-found powers of attraction to his advantage. When his father had informed him that his sex appeal would shoot up the scale he had merely scoffed, responding that he was already the hottest thing at Hogwarts, any more appeal would be overkill. Then a few days later, he'd found Greg standing over his bed, salivating down at him in sheer lust and wonderment and that was when Draco had got his own bedroom.

He sighed again, picturing the lost look in the full Veela's eyes when someone had stepped between her and her mate, the lost horror that they might be gone, might have disappeared to leave her all alone forever. Would he be like that if he couldn't find his mate?

A slight knock sounded at his door and Draco scowled ferociously. He'd been fully booked that day and had already gone through all the students on his list so this caller was most definitely unwelcome. Draco slouched over to the door, hoping against hope that it wasn't those awful Creevey brothers again. He'd refused to sample either of them and they'd pestered him mercilessly since, owling him nude pictures of themselves in horrifically pornographic positions or jerking off over pictures of him.

He opened the door cautiously. "Hello?" he said impatiently as his wary gaze was met by empty space. He pushed the door wider, stepping through past his protective barriers to see if anyone had secreted himself or herself along his passageway as the brothers were often wont to do. He sighed with irritation. " Peeves," he decided before turning to walk back into his room, stopping in shock as he noticed Harry Potter standing in the middle of his living area.

"Potter!" he spluttered, "How did you get in here?"

"I walked," replied the Boy Who Lived in a cool, nonchalant tone, carefully folding a large shimmering swathe of material over his arm. " May I sit down?"

Draco stood a further moment, still gaping at his nemesis standing in his rooms as if he'd been there a million times previously, before he regained his innate composure and strolled back inside. "Certainly", he purred, mindless of his state of undress, "by all means make yourself comfortable, Potter, can't have you running to Dumbledore to tell him I'm a bad host, now can I?"

He sat in his leather armchair by the fire, beckoning with an outstretched graceful palm for Potter to follow his example on the sofa opposite him. Harry sat, draping himself carelessly across the space as if truly making himself comfortable and Draco felt a quick pique of interest rouse in him at Harry's smooth countenance. He seemed to be smirking slightly, an oddly confident half smile he'd never seen before on the Gryffindor's face, it was so self assured, so confident, both innocent looking and devious, it was so… Slytherin.

"Why thank you, Malfoy," he mocked gently, "But I believe in order for you to be a good host, I'd have to have been invited to start with."

A perfect eyebrow shot skywards in an admirable parody of distress. "Oh, dear Potty, do you not feel welcome here? I assure you, had I known you were so 'eager' to stop by I would have been a great deal better prepared to receive you."

Harry smiled grimly, "Meaning, you'd have had every Death Eater you could gather here waiting for me inside your magically protected rooms in order to whisk me way to my death at the hands of the Dark Lord?"

Draco's face pulled taut in a humourless smile. "Precisely." The word rolled off his tongue with enough dripping disdain and hatred that he shivered somewhere inside, sure his father was somehow speaking from within him. "So, if not to wing you on your way to your horribly delayed death, Potter, what 'can' I do for you?" He sat slowly forward, elbows resting on his knees as his expression darkened in single-minded malice. "Did you want to hear how both Granger and the young Weaselette begged me to take them? Or perhaps you wanted to know how hard I had to hit your good friend Justin to make him stop drooling at my feet… tell me, Potter, what exactly is it you want to know?"

He sat back, certain the raven-haired Gryffindor was only moments from standing, possibly hexing him and storming out. Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You turned down Hermione?" he said in a tone of suppressed wonder, "I'd have thought you'd leap at the 'only' chance you'd ever have to 'top' her."

Draco's mouth twisted horribly and Harry chuckled softly, realising he'd scored a direct hit. "Granger is and always shall be beneath me," spat the seething Slytherin, lips twisting to a full sneer as he again attempted to anger the placid brunet. "You know, I think there may be more dirt running through her filthy veins than in the entire grounds of Hogwarts."

Blood beat angrily at Harry's temples and his fingers dug momentarily into the soft leather of the sofa, a fact not unnoticed by the now triumphant, blossoming Veela cross.

"Yet you still bothered to summon her?"

Draco's smirk withered somewhat, "I did no such thing, my summoning powers are as yet uncontrollable… they are only activated when they believe I am in proximity to my mate which, due to the untold blunderings of my ancestors, could be anyone in this dilapidated excuse for a school."

"So your powers are in use at all times?"

Draco huffed; Potter should have left with his tail between his legs by now. "Yes... no. Look, Potter, I don't truly expect an ignoramus like yourself to grasp this, but only those who would have been attracted to me under normal circumstances would have felt the pull whereas I, sadly, can only tell by close proximity or the blasted 'sampling' process I've been enduring for what feels like bloody eternity whether or not that person might be my mate. Only the ones who feel it strongest are likely candidates, my blood's searching out those with all the qualities I desire in a mate and it unfortunately drags along with it those who possess only a scant few of the traits I want; for example your precious Mudblood. She's intelligent to a degree and obviously doesn't hate me as much as she believes."

Harry grinned, still unperturbed by Draco's ongoing hostility. "So, that explains why Ron's not been beating down your door then. Nobody hates you more than him."

Malfoy shuddered, revolted beyond words, unable to produce more than a softly muttered, "Weasley… Eurgh."

A delighted laugh broke from the Gryffindor, bringing Draco's horrifying mental images of Weasley on his knees begging to an end. What was slightly more sickening than the images was the way Potter was still sprawled so casually across his sofa, obviously enchanted by the disgusted expression on Draco's face.

"So, Potter. We've established that you didn't come here for the sordid details of my dignified yet severe rebuttal of your little comrades, you've discovered that I've no 'use' for disgusting Mudblood's and that my powers of attraction are only equalled by my feelings of loathing for you. So, would you care to fuck off now or was there something more I can do for you this evening?"

He rose at the end of this coolly delivered oration, beckoning with one outstretched arm towards the door and wishing for the first time that he was more formally attired so that he might sink his hands into his pocket, casually dismissive of his enemy as he prompted him out the door. The only thing was, although now standing also, Potter made no move towards the door.

"As a matter of a fact there is," he spoke offhandedly, as if wondering 'perchance' whether there might be rain that day.

Draco scowled, giving up all pretence of civility. "There is? There is 'what', Potter?"

Harry walked slowly, nonchalantly to stand before the still highly underdressed and irate Slytherin. "Something you can do for me. There is... something you can do for me this evening, as I believe you enquired, Malfoy."

Draco's scowl spread to snarl before settling back at a fully-fledged sneer. "Oh really, Potter, and what might that be? Catch left-handed at our next match? No, I'll still beat you… oh maybe you came to beg on the Mudblood's behalf? Nope, no again I think I left her in no doubt as to my feelings on 'relations' with her… oh but maybe," he stepped closer, happily noting that his two inch height advantage made looking down at the brunet a natural occurrence, "just maybe, you came here to ask me to sample 'you', Potter, maybe you wanted to see if you could possibly merit a little attention from me."

No response. Draco sighed. "Well really, Potter, if you don't tell me what it is you want then how on earth am I supposed to give it to you… not that I'm saying I will."

Silence. Draco snorted and stepped away moving to fling open the door. "So much for Gryffindor courage… Good night, Potter."

Harry turned and walked towards the open door, maintaining eye contact with the furiously smirking Slytherin with every step. "G'Night, Malfoy," he said coldly, stepping through as Draco chuckled mirthlessly, "Sweet dreams, Lionheart." As he began to close the door behind Potter, an unexpected blow upon its outer side halted and flung it backwards with enough force to startle Draco back into anger.

He pulled it fully open once more, glaring into the fiercely determined verdant eyes fixed upon his.

"Well, well, Potter, back so soon? Figured out what we want did we?"

Potter nodded once tersely, stepping past the icy blond who sighed, closing the door with angry resignation. "I don't have all night, Scarface... spit it out. What do you want?"

If Draco hadn't been close enough to watch Harry's mouth form the word, he would have sworn he was hearing things past the blood now rushing in his skull. Nevertheless, there it was, still hanging in the air between them, Potter's mouth now stilling in the aftermath of the word and Draco gaped in horror.

"You." Potter had said. Potter wanted him.


Harry had been having a bad day from the moment he woke up. It was never likely to be a good day when you woke up with your hand wrapped around your cock and moaning your arch-nemesis' name loudly into the dawn light… For the 14th day running. Harry was now highly grateful for the silencing spell Fred and George had taught him after he'd commented once at the Burrow how quiet Percy and Oliver were whenever the ex-Captain of the Quidditch team stayed over.

After months upon months of agonising over his feelings for the 'Slytherin Sex-God', Harry had been hoping that his attraction might be due to nothing more than a hefty dose of Veela charm ladled over the student body, Draco having been raised with no idea of how to manage his newfound powers. All that time wasted when he could have been plotting how to defeat Voldemort, all that time he spent staring after the blond boy in abject misery when he walked off with yet another conquest, all that time it might have been nothing more than the results of as glitch in Malfoy's genetic make up.

Then Hermione had staggered back to the common room in tears one night. She had gone to Draco, hadn't been able to stop herself, she sobbed, she loved Ron, but that day Draco had passed her in the hall and she'd been helpless to do more than follow him, begging at his heels for the merest touch of his hand. He had, of course, spurned her, after this she found her only route through her misery and dejection, was through the library. Harry helped her pore through text after text on Veela crossbreeds, the varied affects of the hybridisation of the Veela and wizard. For once, Draco had been right, Hermione would never do for him, he actually required a mate with a strong magical lineage. Harry's heart had sunk and when he looked up, he'd found Hermione staring at him fixedly.

"What?" he'd whispered, frantic that his emotions might have peeked through and Hermione had shivered, pointing at him with one trembling finger.

"You," she said firmly, "Do 'you' want him, Harry?" And he'd flushed brilliantly before paling as her eyes widened, the blacks nearly swallowing the colour from her gaze. "Think, Harry, you could have him... remember what Dumbledore told you? Add that to Voldemort's powers and you're a heck of a strong wizard, Harry, you've more innate magic than Malfoy, it showed on the scores and innate magic is directly linked to bloodlines… Harry… if my theory's correct… You could be the one. You could be it."

For once, Harry had no faith whatsoever in Hermione's idea. He scoffed loudly and left her still formulating her ideas; glad that she was distracted and mortified by the leap his heart gave when she tried to make him believe in them. He'd dismissed the theory and watched woefully as Malfoy sampled student after student, having had to grasp hold of Ron on more than one occasion to keep from falling at Malfoy's feet as he walked by. He hadn't told Ron of his feelings for their enemy, nor had he or Hermione mentioned her theories and then, this morning as he'd been stood under the shower head, letting the spray beat back the impending tears as Draco's birthday and the day he'd choose his mate loomed closer, Ron had reaffirmed every reason Harry'd ever had that this man was his best friend.

The redhead had sighed, leaning his lanky frame against the doorway. "Look mate," he'd started, fixing Harry with a stern and almost motherly look, "You'll never know unless you give it a go and if you're not the one for him he'll never be able to tease you over it 'cos he'll be too caught up with whoever 'is'. Get me?"

Harry'd spluttered beneath the water, trying to decide between total denial and shock or gratitude that Ron knew him better than he gave him credit for. "But… but we hate him," he'd whispered finally and brokenly and Ron had smiled a little sadly.

"Harry, on the off chance that someone who could make you this unhappy might make you just the opposite, I say we give it a bash and deal with the politics later. You love him?"

Harry had merely trembled violently and Ron had placed a large, calloused hand on his shoulder.

"Then hope that it can't be any worse than this to tell him so."

Now here he was, his words hanging in the air before him, sadly 'not' blocking Malfoy's expression of total shock and horror from his eyes.

"'What' did you say, Potter?" He squeaked in a most un-Malfoy like fashion.

Harry sighed, the bravery he'd felt during his 'It Can't Be any Worse than 'not telling Him' attitude running sadly low. "I'd like you to… sample… me. Please," he said disjointedly, wincing at the small begging tone that crept in at the end.

Malfoy backed away a few steps. This couldn't be happening; it could 'not' be so. He'd never, ever thought of Potter in that way… ok he had one fantasy where Potter was sucking him off, but it was more of a non-consensual 'bind him and force him to pleasure me even though he hates it' type of fantasy, strictly your abject humiliation scenario. Didn't every good little Slytherin have those kinds of thoughts about the Boy Who Lived? He knew Blaise did, had even heard him sobbing Harry's name in the night, panting and moaning heavily inbetween. Draco shuddered and held a hand up between him and a pale, mortified looking Harry Potter.

"Ummm thanks, but no bloody fucking way, Potter. Gods! Like the Mudblood wasn't bad enough… you're a fucking mongrel, a disfigured goody two shoes I wouldn't be caught dead with and you want me to fucking sample you? NO fucking way!"

Harry shifted uneasily on his toes, rocking slightly as his glared balefully back at the revolted blond. "You thought I was good enough once to be your pal, Malfoy, what's the big deal now? You're still the same prick now as you were then… surely 'I' can't have changed that much?"

Draco's brows shot even further into his hairline. "Oh, so now I'm a prick, but you still want me? And just so we're clear, Potter, if you'd actually taken my hand that day maybe you wouldn't be such a pathetic figure now, god knows I'm grateful you didn't!"

Harry lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug, seemingly careless though his heart was bursting with pain. Ron was wrong, he thought dully, this is so much worse than when I thought there might be a chance. Now I know I disgust him, I've seen the revulsion in his eyes. He trembled. "So that's a no then?"

Draco gaped at him, jaw hanging open to the point of discomfort. "Oh 'Merlin' yes, that's a no you git! Why the hell would you even ask me? What in gods name would make you think I'd say yes? You fucking hate me!"

"I don't hate you," Harry muttered and the sneer returned as Draco's heartbeat slipped back from 'shock horror' to its normal icy rate. "Oh really?" he drawled, cut off by Harry as he took a quick step forwards.

"Malfoy," he said, voice filled with something... hope? Gods, Draco hoped not. "You said that only those who felt it the strongest merited a sample as candidates… wouldn't it take a great deal of power to bring me to you as, you so rightly pointed out, we're not exactly bosom buddies."

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I said, I said… are you going to hang on my every word now, Potter? Yes, those who feel it strongest are supposed to be sampled, what are you saying? You want me to test your reaction?"

Mindless of Draco's sneer, Harry's brow furrowed. "No," he said, "I only, I meant that I must be feeling your influence strongly to have actually come here, but... you could 'do' that? Test your powers on me? Is that allowed?"

Malfoy snorted, "Yeah because you have 'such' a high regard for the rules, Potter. Yes I could do that, I'm not allowed to in public because I tried it once and Madam Pomfrey passed out, but I 'could' use it to prove you're in no way worthy of me yes."

Harry gulped, throat dry with apprehension, "H… How would you tell?"

Draco looked at Harry darkly. He'd had a long day and his tiresome foe was making it even more unbearable by the second. "Its simple, Scarface, all the no-go's simply fall at my feet professing their love for me as you seem to be only inches away from doing right now…" Harry flushed angrily, welcoming the heat of it through his desolation, "and those who are somewhat more worthy will be able to reflect my own drawing power back at me somewhat."

"They 'reflect' your power?"

"No, dumb-ass, my power simply picks up on their inherent power and amplifies it back at me… it's like testing to see if it'll mix, but in your case it won't matter, as your poor departed Mudblood mother will have you weeping at my feet in seconds. Ready then? No? Good."

Without giving any warning aside from the evil smirk on his face, Draco quickly shifted his summoning powers to full, hoping to see Harry clawing at himself in pleasure over his mere presence as so many others had done. He looked at Harry, shuddering slightly as he visualised embracing him, calling on all the tricks the specialist had taught him to activate his Veela pheromones. He pictured pushing a wave of white-hot energy at Potter, expecting to see the colour dissipate into nothingness. Instead, a massive flash of burning silver white assailed his sight, blinding him, searing his brain and body with its heat, hurting, burning and intoxicating.

He stumbled then, finding two warms lips beneath his, sank gratefully into the depths, the small licks of pale flames at the back of his skull receding as his tongue probed desperately, drinking in the somehow cooling taste of the figure burning him.

Harry was dying, the air had been knocked from his lungs with the force of whatever spell Malfoy must have hit him with and reaching blindly for the comfort he somehow knew was there, found himself lashed tightly to a burning pillar of silken flesh, his mouth ravaged, lungs depleted within seconds and he was falling into darkness, away from the light when there was suddenly a burst of oxygen.

He blinked the blue flecks from his eyes, vision clearing to see a pair of silver eyes spitting fury down at him. "How fucking DARE you kiss me, Potter?" Malfoy bellowed into his face as Harry drew in gasp after gasp of much needed oxygen. "You disgust me, you little freak, I was trying to do the fucking decent thing and test you as you practically fucking begged me to and then you fucking assault me when I'm distracted? Get the fuck out of here!"

"Can't," Harry panted, continuing at the look on Malfoy's rage whitened face, "You're going to have to let go of me first."

Blinking in confusion and wrath, Malfoy allowed himself the few much needed deep breaths it took to finally clear his sight and senses when he realised Potter really couldn't leave because Malfoy had both arms wrapped around him, tighter than he'd held onto anything in his life.

Snarling he stepped backwards, pushing Harry from him with enough force to topple the weakened Gryffindor. "Get. The Fuck. Out," he growled.

Harry picked up his father's invisibility cloak from where he'd dropped it in shock and made his way wearily to the door.


He turned slowly, the barest flicker of hope shining in his eyes.

"This meant nothing... I come into my full powers next week and I'm getting a little frustrated… I'd probably fuck a house-elf right now I'm so tired of this shit. This changes 'nothing'."

Draco's face was as cold and stiff as ice and Harry could only nod, hoping his legs would carry him back to his dorm room. He let himself out, shrouding himself in his father's cloak and lingering scent as he closed the door on Draco's sickened expression behind him. He paused to lean on he door, shivering uncontrollably. 'Couldn't possibly be worse…' he thought wryly as he started back along the corridor before the appalling sight before him sent him back to knock wearily upon the door once more.

It was flung open by a still fuming and repulsed Draco Malfoy, his expression darkening further as Harry pushed the hood back from his head.

"What the HELL do you want now?" spat the blond and Harry sighed.

"I just thought you'd want to know that both Creevey brothers found out that Dobby used to work at Malfoy manor earlier today and, it seems, have assumed he works here now because you're so 'fond' of him."

"Fond of him?" Draco said dully, his day slowly worsening with every passing second.

"I guess so," Harry tried to keep his voice steady, "because they're both coming down the corridor dressed as House elf's and arguing over who gets to be Dobby."

"What?" Malfoy whimpered and Harry felt a vague triumph that not even kissing him had made Malfoy look quite that appalled. He nodded sympathetically and pulled his hood back up.

"Afraid so. G'Night, Malfoy." Then he made his way back down the corridor, past the two bickering brothers, smiling wretchedly when he heard Malfoy's door slam and several locks click home.

It seemed he walked forever that night before he tumbled back in through the portrait to find Ron still waiting for him, sat by the still glowing fire.

The redhead took in Harry's carefully composed face. "Well?" he asked softly.

A wide, tragic smile broke Harry's composure. "He kissed me," he told Ron in a tone of softened joy, but something kept Ron from leaping forward to clap his best friend on the back, something in the odd sheen over his eyes. "Harry?" he whispered uncertainly.

"He kissed me…" Harry said again, in tones of wonderment, as if Ron hadn't spoken, "In time I'm sure that will… he kissed me." He turned his head to meet Ron's startled gaze with wide tear-filled eyes. "But it isn't me, Ron." His smile wavered then died altogether as his broken whisper tumbled the dam in his eyes, "It isn't me."

Then his hands came up to cover his face, heartbroken sobs echoing around the room as Ron shot forward to hold his friend tightly to him. "It isn't me," he whispered repeatedly into Ron's shoulder and Ron blinked back a tear or two of his own at his friend's distress.

"It isn't me."

High at the top of the Gryffindor dorm staircase Hermione Granger sat, trembling with emotion as she watched her friend crumble. "The hell it isn't," she whispered.


A week and a half later

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes slowly. He didn't feel different. He hadn't felt different at midnight, nor at three am (the time he had actually been born) and now with only half an hour to eat breakfast, he still felt nothing out of the ordinary. He was 17 today, and with his parents unable to visit until the following day, due to the hoped for event of his choosing his mate, he'd hoped for a little more fanfare when reaching the height of his powers. Nervously he picked out his outfit for the day (stylish, but not too sexy, he had to beat off the Creevey's with a stick these days) and headed off to shower. Whilst standing beneath the spray he wondered if perhaps his powers hadn't kicked in due to his not having any idea of whom his mate might be. He wasn't panicking yet, he had until midnight and today he would have the benefit of his new senses to guide him.

Drying off and dressing quickly, he smirked. Snape had been sent every day this week so far to escort him down to breakfast. Fears for his safety were mounting the closer he came to taking a mate and having his own tall, dark, greasy bodyguard was proving to be amusing. Sure enough, as he stepped through his door, there he was in all his oily glory, hovering and glaring at a few random 5th years awaiting his appearance. Having banished these groupies Snape turned to carefully survey his charge.

"No apparent change as yet, sir," Malfoy drawled as his professor's gaze seemed to linger a little too long upon his person. Snape nodded briskly, "Good, we shall go then."

Malfoy allowed himself a full beaming smile as he considered his day, he had been let off the majority of his classes due to his unusual circumstances and mealtimes had quickly become the highlight of his day. All the students, sampled and unsampled alike, would preen and pose and send him love notes and extravagant or highly naughty gifts and watching Potter staring into his food with ever increasing humiliation each day was just priceless, it was like…

A burning shaft of pain lanced through his chest and he yelped in pain, legs dropping from beneath him as he slid slowly down the wall. " Mr. Malfoy!" he heard his alarmed professor cry and large blue spots seemed to loom before his eyes, his heart beating hard enough to seemingly shatter his ribs.

'So this is dying...' he thought idly and absurdly all he could think of were eyes of the clearest forest green, bottomless and full of woe and love. He sighed and as his breath left him, he felt his brain unfog a little. Within moments he felt as if the pain had never been and he was left staring into his panic stricken teacher's face.

"Is it the powers?" Snape asked, gasping with relief as Draco's eyes came back into focus, "or, or is it something else…. Did you sense your mate? Are they nearby or…" here Snape caught his breath and a look of pure joy filled his lacklustre gaze, "Am I it? Is it me, Draco? Is it?"

Draco's eyes widened in horror, "Ummm no. Sorry, sir. I'd umm best be getting to the Great Hall now."

He jumped up, and hurried on, attempting to block out Snape's wailed "Are you sure Draco? I'll wait for you!" as he speed walked his way to the hall. He burst through the doors with fifteen minutes still before he had his first class … Potions. Draco shuddered. 'Maybe I'll skip that one today' he mused as he made his way forwards to the Slytherin table when his knees suddenly buckled, pain piercing his chest once more. He put out one hand, supporting himself on the table as his head spun to look round, blood beating loudly in his ears. His eyes fell on Potter and it seemed suddenly as though his skin was the only thing keeping his heart within his chest, the blood beating ferociously at the front walls of his body, slamming him in waves from within, clamouring for the object of its focus.

He staggered and tried to make his way around the table to sit at his usual spot when he noticed something that had previously escaped his notice. Justin Finch-Fletchley was sitting next to Potter, not just next to him, but straddling the bench sideways so he could sit even closer to the uneasy Gryffindor and even as Draco watched, the Hufflepuff lifted a hand to smooth back the untamed raven locks and Potter winced from the touch.

The pain disappeared in a cloud of red with silver lights dancing before Draco's eyes as he strode around the tables once more until he stood across from the offending Hufflepuff.

"Get your hands 'off' him," Draco spat and Justin, looking up and missing Harry's wide-eyed gaze, checked over his shoulder to be sure it was him that Draco was speaking to.

"I'm sorry?" he attempted to drawl back, failing miserably and adding to this crime by letting his hand rest on the now shaking Harry's shoulder.

"I said," Draco, hissed quietly, "Take your filthy hands off of him."

Harry stared up at the quaking and furious Slytherin. He had barely spoken to him since casting him from his room that night, although he'd sneered at him a great many times in passing and the few times Harry'd dared to meet his eyes he'd found only revulsion there. Now all he saw was rage and…. Fear?

Justin laughed nervously, wary of the icy blond since he'd turned him down, but unwilling to give up his latest target, Harry was so deliciously vulnerable right now. "Why?" he tried for nonchalance, failing as it came out indignant and frightened sounding. However, Draco never heard the terror, all he could see was Potter's soft shift away from that unwanted touch and the fact that the hand still laid there.

"Get your 'fucking' hands off 'my' MATE!"

Had those words really torn from his throat like that, Draco wondered as his hand shot out, the long table lifting and crashing back against the ground, walls shaking and flames burning bright white around him as he leapt over the table to lift Justin by his throat. "Do not EVER touch my mate again, he does 'not' like it … 'I' do not like it and if I ever catch you touching him like that again I'll…."

"Mr. Malfoy." A gentle yet powerful spell withdrew Justin from Draco's rage filled grasp and he spun to see who had removed his prey. Dumbledore smiled gently. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so good as to see to these candles?" The headmaster gestured to the searing white lights around the hall and as Draco's temper ebbed in confusion, his blood beating slower once more, the flames flickered and died away.

Draco opened his mouth to apologise to the headmaster when a flame lit inside him, blazing through his chest and back, causing him to cry out, but not, as he expected, in pain.

"Potter!" he wailed urgently, body crumbling, demanding the presence of the one it needed. "Harry!"

Harry had been watching dumbstruck as Draco shook Justin in the air, snarling, feral, and so beautiful it was beyond Harry's words to explain it. Had he really called him his mate? It couldn't be so; Draco himself had told Harry he wasn't the one. It couldn't be him. It couldn't.

"Harry!" The cry rent the air and Harry watched aghast as Draco crumpled to the floor. He shot forward clasping him around the torso, trying to pull him upright. Draco twisted, whimpering in Harry's grasp, hauling himself to his feet to turn Harry's head towards him, crushing his mouth with his own.

'No,' Draco moaned inside his head as the white lights dimmed behind his eyes, the pain receding somewhat. 'No not Potter, anyone but Potter! This is so wrong…' He tore his mouth from Harry's muttering fiercely, "No, wrong, this is so wrong, not you, oh god not you."

Harry had been in ecstasy, Draco was holding him, kissing him uncaring of all their onlookers and suddenly he pulled that world of perfection far, far away. "No," he murmured a breath away from Harry's mouth, "this is wrong…not you, oh god not you…" Harry pulled back, trembling and appalled.

"I, I'm sorry," he stammered, voice breaking as the now easy tears sprang to his eyes, stepping further away from the blond and farther into his grief, "I thought you said, I thought… I'm sorry…" Tears spilled over, crystalline drops against the pale skin as Draco's heart beat angrily against his lungs, tearing the breath from him with every beat.

"No..." he moaned deeply and broken, unaware now of their audience, "Don't cry…" He gathered Harry back into his arms, feverishly kissing at his face, "oh god I love you, don't cry, I love you, don't cry, please, please…don't…" He covered Harry's mouth with his, still speaking unintelligibly into the kiss with Harry making soft noises of answer back here and there, wrapping his arms tightly around the Veela.

Draco's head shot back suddenly, a fist of pain thrust roughly through his abdomen and he shrieked in agony, pulling away from Harry, making it worse with the distance from his mate. Harry yelled in horror as he watched sweat break out across Draco's body, running in thick streams down his face and neck before he'd had time to do more than gape. He hauled Malfoy to his feet, gasping as his love's skin burnt him where he touched it. "C'mon," he panted, "Got to get you to the infirmary."

"No!" Draco ground out, pulling Harry with him as he tried to run from the Great Hall, "Have to go, must go now… please… now." Dumbledore nodded gravely at Harry, who found himself almost dragged through the doors, passing a bewildered and concerned, but happy looking Ron and Hermione en route.

Draco began to rush them both through the corridors, but paused, leaning dizzily against Harry, as the large, dark walls seem to spiral inwards to engulf them both. "Harry," he whimpered, almost in tears from the pain and need in him, "help me, please."

Harry looked at the way Draco seemed to shrink from the imposing corridor before them and quickly coming to a decision, spun them both around and half-dragged, half-carried Draco with him. Bursting through the doors to the entrance hall and into the sunlight beyond the halls within, he ran with Draco as far from the large structure as they could get, Draco's breaths coming in deep, rasping heaves as they struggled onwards. "Harry," he wheezed, skin scalding him from the inside out.

Harry brought them to a halt on a smooth slope near the lake; a few trees grew there surrounded by thick long, lush green grass. "Is here ok, Draco? Do you want to stop? Tell me, Draco, what do you want? What can I do?" he questioned anxiously, wiping away the sweat that blinded his love's eyes.

Draco spun and pushed him down into the soft grass. "Need you," he panted, "just you."

He tore Harry's robes and shirt from his body with such ease they might have been paper and Harry marvelled briefly at Draco's newfound strength before hissing in pain as Draco pressed his newly exposed chest against Harry's, the heat burning them both. "Need you now," Draco moaned, sweat rolling from his brow in waves as he struggled with his trousers, "please, need you, Harry."

Understanding suddenly, Harry quickly loosened his own trousers, shimmying them down as he flushed from the heat of Draco's body against his own as well as from the embarrassment of having to rush through his first time with Malfoy. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint him, wrapping his legs about Draco's, his mate finally managing to free his trousers from his sweat-slicked limbs.

"Oh gods, Harry…" Draco moaned crushing Harry's mouth, "… love you so." And then he thrust in hard, tearing Harry in the process, pain rolling through them both, Harry's cry of agony swallowed by Draco's gasp as pain tore through him as he exploded within Harry on the first thrust.

Their joint cries echoing on the still morning air, they lay shaking in each other's arms, Draco still sprawled over the pale Gryffindor. Draco's sweating stopped, suddenly he could see straight and he found the pounding of his heart had lessened to the point where he could breathe in without agony. Even the terrible stab of pain that had engulfed him upon entering Harry had lessened, though it still burned somewhat, lingering deep in the pit of his belly. He felt a hand smooth his sticky, sodden hair and a soft, quavering voice murmured, "Are you ok now?"

Draco stiffened, hearing again Harry's cry of pain and buried his head in shame against his lover's chest. "No," he muttered, lifting his hands from where they had been pressed hard into the grass either side of Harry's head, "no, I'm not."

He looked into Harry's white face and felt a roll of deep nausea undulating in his gut. "I hurt you," he whispered brokenly and quietly despised himself when Harry smiled at him. "It's ok, Draco, you were in pain, it's not your fault and besides everyone's first time's painful right?"

Draco waited for the voice in him that was revolted by the idea of being with Potter to join in the other voices berating him, but it never came. "S'funny," he murmured disbelievingly, "I should be appalled that I'm here with you, should be disgusted, but I'm not. I should feel worse that I hurt you and even though I feel so awful all I can think of is that no-ones ever touched you before me and..." he trailed off blushing suddenly, an odd gleam in his eyes. "Nobody else ever will," he stated firmly.

He shifted and Harry winced. He couldn't tell him how greatly he hurt, not after seeing the agony he had been in and although inside him he was rejoicing that he'd been Draco's mate all along, he couldn't quite suppress the pang when Draco spoke of his surprise at his lack of disgust. Draco noticed the wince when he moved slightly and narrowed his eyes. "Am I still hurting you?"

Harry made no answer, so sure he'd pull away if he told him how it burnt and stung within him and Draco shivered. "I am," he whispered, running a hand between them, down over Harry's abdomen and the Gryffindor gasped. Warmth was spreading through his body, tickling his sore insides with gentle, light fingers until all was soothed and repaired. Malfoy stared in wonder as he watched the white light spread from his fingers over Harry's belly and groin. He could actually feel the healing, soothing pressure of his touch upon himself and a spark ran through him as he shifted again and Harry moaned softly as his body expanded to further accept his still hard length.

"I love you," he whispered, unaware that he was speaking, "it's mad and it's wrong, but I do, I love you." He waited for the same joy he felt to show itself upon his mate's face, but all he saw was a quiet sadness. Then it struck him, Harry probably only loved him because of his Veela attractions, now that he'd mated they had probably lessened, he could go another 5 weeks at least before that power would be restored to him. "It's ok," he murmured, "I know you don't really love me, the Veela charms can make you think you do, but…"

"I do love you," Harry inserted, chin jutting defiantly as he looked up into Malfoy's eyes, "I've loved you for ages."

Malfoy sighed, trying to ignore the trembling that started within him as his suspicions seemed confirmed. "My powers have been active for a little over a year, Harry," he said softly, "I just didn't know it."

Harry's face lit up in triumph. "A little over a year? I've loved you longer than that."

"What? When? I…"

Harry grinned further, squirming slightly when he felt Draco shift slightly, his cock pressing deeper within him as he spoke. "I've loved you since the Christmas before last," he crowed softly, loving the wet, grateful sheen that coated Draco's eyes at this.

"Why?" whispered the blond huskily and Harry smoothed the sweat drenched hair from his brow.

"I was out on the roof of the Owlery… just after Christmas, wearing my invisibility cloak and you were there. I saw you tilt your head back to catch snowflakes on your tongue." Harry's eyes fogged over at the memory, still captivated by the mental picture of the proud blond, laughing in delight, face tilted to the sky. " I think that was the only time I ever saw you truly happy and I knew I wanted to see you look like that forever. I knew I loved you then."

He blushed and Draco dipped his head to brush Harry's lips with his own. "I'm truly happy now," he whispered throatily, moving his hips in a wide circle stroking all the walls of Harry's insides and eliciting a gasp from the brunet as he nudged his prostate.

"You can't ever leave me you know," he murmured conversationally as he slid slowly out of Harry, pausing with the very tip of his erection at Harry's entrance, "I'll die without you."

Harry's mouth quirked, "Lucky for me then that you've no choice in your mate … I was already dying without you." His eyes dimmed a touch and the smile wavered, "You'd have to send me away… to be honest, I'm still not entirely sure you won't."

Draco pulled himself upright, ignoring the slight whimper of protest from his mate as their bodies separated fully. "And just what do you mean by that?" he asked hotly, silver eyes flaring in the early morning sunlight. Harry blinked, body still mourning the loss of Malfoy's weight upon it.

"Sorry?" he murmured, looking beseechingly at his blond lover who sighed heavily.

"Why, for Raistlin's sake, would I 'ever' want to send you away, Potter? Didn't I just say it'd kill me if you left me?"

"I won't leave you," Harry reaffirmed, voice soothing as he lifted a hand to smooth some lingering beads of moisture from Draco's collarbone, "But you'll only need me roughly once every six weeks or so… you don't love me, I know that because you told me so yourself, you only want me for my heritage."

Draco, whose expression had growing steadily more incredulous during the little speech, snorted, "What heritage?"

Harry squinted in confusion, he was certain the Slytherin must have discovered it by now. Why else would he have been interested after their encounter the previous week? "My lineage… You know… surely you must know by now?" Draco shrugged carelessly, elegant even in confusion.

"Nope," he mumbled, dropping his head once more to kiss teasing soft trails along Harry's stomach, pausing to nuzzle affectionately at his navel, skimming his tongue past it and murmuring thickly, "Don't care either."

Harry gasped, hips bucking just a little at Draco's gentle ministrations, a low hum starting in his blood, vibrating through him to arrow downwards to his cock. "B… but surely you heard about… about Voldemort… his powers?"

The Veela sighed impatiently, lifting his head to look mockingly into his flustered mate's eyes. "Yes darling, I'm all ears... what 'about' the Dark Lord's powers?"

Harry crimsoned at the endearment, feeling like his old daring self as he realised that the Slytherin truly was unaware of his origins. "Well, " he began, purring slightly as he arched upwards, trailing calloused fingertips down Draco's throat and across his chest. "Y'see, Voldie was apparently in something of a sharing mood the night he murdered my family and attempted to kill me,"

Draco's skin burnt white hot once more and Harry stilled, looking at his mate in concern. "I'm ok," Draco uttered darkly, picturing himself tearing the spine from a screaming Dark Lord before presenting it to Harry on a silver platter, rage thudding in the base of his skull as he let Harry's quick fingers stroke contentment back into him. He gasped lightly as the Gryffindor's blunt nails scratched over a smooth pink nipple, lifting it into new awareness as his eyes flickered shut. "Go on," he said hoarsely and neither boy knew whether he meant the action or the conversation, but Harry continued both just the same.

"When he cursed me that night, he didn't only fail to kill me, but he passed on to me a few of his own powers, which is why I'm a Parselmouth." Draco shuddered, laying his body back against Harry's, his head pillowed on the Gryffindor's sleek abdomen, wrapping his arms tightly about him as he ignored the quick tears that sprang to his eyes at the mention of his near demise. Harry lifted one hand to rub calming circles over the hot silk of Draco's back, the other passing repeatedly through his hair, threading through the white silver strands with careful fingers. "Obviously he never meant to do that, in fact if I had merely lived, untouched by his powers, he might have been content to see me live, but by adding to my power with his, he made me an even bigger threat to him than I was before."

"You were a threat even as a baby?" Draco muttered, kissing the pale bronze belly of his lover, amused to hear the hitch it caused in Harry's breath as he nuzzled his bellybutton once again, dipping his tongue inside to taste the captured drops of sweat within.

"Yessssssss," Harry affirmed, arching up, digging his heels into the earth and nudging Draco's stomach with the tip of his newly hard prick.

Draco chuckled low in his throat, lifting an eyebrow at the wide, dilating eyes now fixed upon the actions of his mouth. "Mmmm, was that Parseltongue, Harry?" he mocked, moving up Harry's body to trace his tongue around the outer shell-like whorls of his ear. "Talk to me in Parseltongue, my love?" he begged quietly, shivering as Harry's throbbing cock pressed further against his as Harry crushed himself against him in wild abandon.

Harry's head was spinning madly, the earth beneath seemed to rock backwards each time he so much as breathed and the delicious sensation of Draco's tongue upon his body was driving him quite mad with need. He could feel the hot, slick, shaft pressing firm against him now and this time Harry felt no fear or embarrassment, merely the overwhelming need for his mate to claim him once more. Clearing his mind as best he could, he turned to whisper hotly in Parseltongue against his lover's skin, adding an extra hiss of pleasure as the sound sent tremors through the taller body above him.

"What… what... did you say?" The words tumbled thickly from Draco's lips, clinging longer than they should and slurring them to partial moans of need.

"I said," Harry panted, bucking helplessly against the blond, hands pressing uselessly at his back as he tried to pull him closer still, " I said that I love the way your mouth feels on my skin and…" he hissed again, eliciting another tremble in the birthday boy, "and that I want you inside me."

Malfoy's head shot downwards with a harsh cry at Harry's words, claiming his lips and pushing his tongue deeply into his mouth to steal his breath and heart. "No…" he muttered roughly, tearing his lips away again, panting as he placed quick, searing kisses across the whimpering brunet's face. "Not yet… not yet."

Hauling his weight back from Harry with all the willpower he possessed at the smaller boy's cry of loss, he leant forward to swiftly nip hard at the rigid, pale brown nipples that taunted him from their home atop Harry's gleaming chest. He suckled hungrily at the pebbled tip for a second, relishing the high cry Harry made, lavishing the same attention briefly on the other hardened nub before continuing downwards.

After pausing to nuzzle momentarily at the shallow indent of Harry's navel once more, Draco shot a wicked grin up at his red and panting lover before deliberately leaning in slowly, eyes locked with his mates as he carefully, almost reverently stretched out his tongue tip to lap daintily at the weeping tip of Harry's prick. Air whooshed in, whistling between Harry's teeth as he seized handfuls of the grass, trying to anchor his fists and hips to stop him from grabbing Malfoy's head and driving deep into that warm, waiting mouth.

Malfoy paused, amusement lighting the dark, desire-filled depths of his eyes as he watched Harry straining against the ground, thigh muscles clenched to keep his hips from bucking. "Do it," he whispered, surprising himself as much as Harry, placing quick kisses along the shaft before swiping none too gently at the tip, "You know you want to… so 'do' it." He trailed his tongue tip over the head, letting his mouth fall a little wider than it would have been, were he not aching for Harry to give in.

"Draco," sobbed the Boy Who Lived, unsure even as he looked deeply into his lover's eyes, trembling as he then closed his lips around the dripping head. "Please," he muttered, parting his mouth, now wet with Harry's pre-cum, "Please."

With a strangled roar of capitulation and lust, Harry seized Draco's fine silver hair, pulling the silk strands tightly into his grasp. He whimpered at Draco's appreciative hiss as he thrust deep into the Slytherin's waiting throat, Draco swallowing him before he'd even had time to thrash against the onslaught of sensations caused by his lover's tight lips clenched around the base of his cock.

Malfoy opened his throat as much as he could, barely gagging around the pulsating heat of Harry's length, his mind spinning in confusion. His father had made sure his son knew how best to be a Malfoy and one of the cardinal rules was that, even if you fucked a man, it was ok just so long as 'you' fucked 'them' and you never, ever went down on them. 'But... What if I wanted to, father?' a sadly naïve fifteen year old Draco had once asked. It had taken him days to be able to walk again after that beating and as Tilly, his old nurse elf, had seen to his wounds she soothed him, patting him on the back and assuring young Master Draco that it wasn't nice to do anyway and tasted simply dreadful. He had never asked how she knew, frightened of the answer he would receive.

And now he found his hands clenching in the grass, moaning loudly as Harry's cock slid rapidly in and out of his mouth, resisting the urge to bite down every time Harry withdrew, just to keep him inside him a while longer. 'If I like this so much' he wondered, somehow lost in thought despite the sounds of Harry's delirium nearing its peak, unaware of even his steadily increasing rumbles, purring as his hands caressed every inch of skin they could, tattooing Harry's body with their heat. 'If I like this then surely I'd like it just as much were Harry to be inside me, were he to fuck me?'

An image blazed across his brain, a perfect picture of him thrashing beneath the Gryffindor, arms and legs flung tightly about him, their bodies entwined, heaving and moaning in harmony, Harry slowly thrusting in and out of Draco's eager body….

With a low cry of need Draco began frantically bobbing his head up and down Harry's length, trying to swallow him whole, his nose pressed tight with every plunge downwards into the soft curls trailing softly down from Harry's belly to cluster about his cock.

Harry watched from a detached place within, as Draco's mewls of enjoyment drove him steadily closer to the brink. His hips trembled, hovering in space for a moment as he felt something burst within him, a filibuster firework in his gut. Draco looked up at Harry, whining gently at the sudden stilling of his hips and watched sweat beading itself over Harry's upper lip. The brunet's jaw fell open to whimper in stunned tones, "Draco, I think I'm going to…" His breath caught, strangled by the loud scream of pleasure that accompanied the wild bucking of his hips and the tightened fingers in the silver silk strands as Harry Potter came both loudly and violently down Draco Malfoy's throat, calling his name in rapture as he fell into the waiting darkness.

The Veela drank deeply, revelling in the bitter taste as it literally poured itself down his throat and he quivered as his own need verged on the edge of ecstasy, receding slowly as the body beneath his slumped, trembling and raised his head, licking his lips with satisfaction as he surveyed his mate.

"Good?" he rasped, intending to purr it sexily, but unaware that giving head generally equalled full, rosy lips and a voice that almost screamed 'I've just had your cock down my throat.' Worried that Harry might have missed that fantastic fact, Draco leant over the exhausted, flushed wizard and crooned softly against his mouth, "I've just had your cock down my throat… and I 'liked' it."

Harry shook with exhaustion and desire, reaching up with one outstretched finger to capture one tiny lost drop of his own seed upon his finger. "Missed some," he told the sultry and triumphal Slytherin before giving in to the mischief surging through him and popping the finger into his mouth, sliding it slowly back and forth between his own pink lips, grinning wickedly at the blond's expression.

"Mmmm," he purred, arching against Draco's still rock hard cock, "S'not bad." With a distinctly animal cry, Draco wrenched Harry's hand from his mouth, filling it with his tongue and teeth instead, lapping and nipping at his tongue, jealous that even his mate had tasted what was his.

He drew back, panting harshly, evading Malfoy's urgent seeking lips as they traversed his face, licking at the droplets of sweat across his brow and lip. He had never felt so tired, his body juddered with his every breath, but he ached for Draco, longed for his full possession and did not intend to fall to oblivion until he had been fully conquered.

"More," he croaked, catching the silver gaze with his own determined green and lifting his trembling legs to lock his feet behind Draco's knees. Draco's smile was feral as he pushed his face in close to Harry's to press their noses together.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Draco mocked gently, laving the pouting red lips before his, "You already had the last drop and that you stole from me."

Harry chuckled softly, colouring as he considered his actions before shaking his head at his lover, wrapping his arms tightly about his shoulders. " No, Draco," he murmured, pulling the ice blond further down upon him, " I want more of 'you'. Now… Before it hurts you again."

Draco struggled slightly in Harry's embrace, " No. I, I hurt you… I will not. I won't."

Harry moved an arm down to tweak at the Veela's nipples, drawing hisses from between his mates clenched teeth. "You weren't hurting me earlier, after you healed me… you felt so good inside me, as I recall, you did something fantastic with your hips, like this," he ground his pelvis in a circle against Malfoy's groin, delighting at the rasping moan it summoned, "And then we got off course arguing about how I couldn't love you, you couldn't love me, blah… blah…"

Malfoy looked Harry straight in the eyes. "I 'do' love you," he whispered, liking but fearing how good it felt to say it. Harry nodded impatiently, not quite hiding the spark of pain in his eyes "Yes, yes because of my blood, I know… now could you 'please' fuck me?"

"That's the second time you've said something like that, Potter," Draco snarled, "And I'm not sure I care for it much, so if you wouldn't mind explaining it so that we might both understand why you don't believe I love you…?"

"I never said you didn't love me, just that you only love me because of my blood which, because you never knew about my lineage, you only sensed today which is why you didn't love me like this last week when I offered myself to you."

Draco was consumed with shame and self-loathing '…when I offered myself to you'… what if Harry had slipped way from him… how could he have turned him away? "How does Voldemort transferring a few of his powers to you connect with my loving you?" he spat, furious with himself.

Harry smirked slightly, trying to ignore the anger in Draco's eyes. "Voldemort only transferred his powers to me because he was trying to kill me…but he was only trying to kill me to start with because I'm the heir of Godric Gryffindor."

Draco's jaw dropped and Harry chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's just what I did when Dumbledore told me. But by giving me his powers by accident, he gifted me the powers of Slytherin so that I actually now possess the powers of two of the founders… you can imagine why he hates me so much."

The Slytherin Veela tried to ignore the rising tide of fury that rose in him at the very mention of the dark lord trying to hurt his Harry. "So, you think I love you because of your ancestry?"

Potter nodded, "Yup, my mother may have been muggle born, but technically my magic is actually purer than most in the school and 'that's' why you love me."

Draco could still feel the anger simmering in the pit of his belly, "Potter, how powerful are you then?"

Harry felt a vague smugness, "Oh, I'm really very powerful, I just don't know how to use it yet, but Dumbledore says I'll learn in time."

"So you're 'not' as powerful as Dumbledore then?"


"The same Dumbledore I've been around every day for the last six years at least, the really super powerful, very brave, intelligent wizard with more power than the entire ministry put together, 'that' Dumbledore?"


"The rule breaker, the guy who you run to in a crisis, the all around goody two shoes who's supposed to make guys like me sick, that one?"

"Now you sound like you're describing me."


"What?" Harry shook his head in consternation, lost as to where Malfoy was taking this little point of his. Draco sighed, loving the little crinkle between Harry's eyebrows as he stared at him in total bemusement.

"You think I don't truly love you because I hate that you're Dumbledore's pet Gryffindor, the goody-goody, politically correct hero of the wizarding world and that I'm only drawn to you now because my Veela heritage sought out your superior power?"


"So I chose you, despite all your faults, because of your powers, even though technically I could have had Dumbledore for exactly the same traits and a hell of a lot more power than you, correct?"

"I uhh ummm…" God Harry looks so adorable when he's baffled, Draco thought, a smile lighting up his face before he lowered it to kiss Harry's frown away.

"Why do I need you, Harry?" he muttered against the rose silk of Harry's lips.

"Because I'm your mate," whispered back the Gryffindor, over-forming his words so that his mouth could better cling to his lover's.

"Nope," the blond grinned, "you're my mate 'because' I need you… so... why do I need you?"

Harry shook his head, eyes brilliant green in their mute distress. "Why?" he whispered, more afraid than he'd ever known to hear the answer. Draco smiled, lips closed so that it was nothing more than the gentle curving of his lips and Harry had never seen him look more natural. "I need you, dumb-ass, because I love you. Do you see?"

Another shake of the raven head as tears spilled over the verdant depths and Draco gathered him close to speak directly against his temple. "All these years here together, each day a new way to hurt you, to humiliate you and those you chose to be with, all this time and I've never known rage as I felt it the day you refused my hand ...until this morning when I saw that Hufflepuff pawing you. All this time and I've never felt such clear, contrasting happiness as that first day when I caught you staring at me in Madam Malkins, this funny little scarecrow child gazing at me and I wanted you then. Not like I wanted you now, but I yearned for you, after you left the shop I went to my mother to beg her to find you for me, the little boy with the black silk hair and big eyes. I cried all the way home."

Harry trembled against him and Draco pressed his face further into the hair he'd so desired once, muffling his voice slightly, just enough to cover the hint of tears that lingered there. "And then I hated you. I hated you a long time, till last week it seems, and kissing you was a revelation, it hurt to let you go and yet I forced you from me, hating you even more for the confusion and that same bright light I felt inside me that first day. I didn't really think about it, I just kept hating you, enjoying the fact you wanted to be with me and then when I walked in this morning I knew I 'had' to be with you, I should have 'always' been with you…." He sighed thoughtfully, " I think that's why it hurt so much to look at you this morning, so much suppressed longing… I thought I was going to die." He lifted his head to match stormy silver eyes to tear drenched green. "But you know something, Harry?" he whispered, "I'm not sure I ever hated you at all." And he kissed him.

Several breathless moments passed and when Draco lifted his head once more both sets of tears had dried. "So you're saying," Harry gasped for air whilst smiling brilliantly at his mate, "That you hated me this long because you couldn't love me or because I didn't love you?"

Draco cocked his head, considering. "Both. If I hadn't been Veela I probably would have clung to my hatred all my life, but, because I am, it forced me to recognise that I hated you because I love you and because you didn't love me."

"But... I love you now?" Harry offered, squirming at the thought of that horrid little boy, who'd reminded him so much of Dudley, having harboured such a hatred for him all these years out of love when he'd been complaining because he'd gone a year unrequited. Draco smiled, his beautiful face flushed with love and desire.

"I know," he purred.

Harry grinned up at him. "It's just as well, really, that we left it this long," he giggled at Draco's raised eyebrow, "After all, if we'd been dating all those times Voldemort tried to kill me…" He widened his eyes fractionally, "Talk about your conflict of interests!" His laughter died down suddenly. "What will your father do when he hears?" he whispered and Draco sneered, arrogance reasserting itself.

"If he knows what's good for him he'll tell us everything he knows and wait for us to kill Voldemort… not to mention write you a 'long' apology letter."

Harry's eyebrow quirked. "We're going to kill Voldemort?" he asked in amusement.

"Nope, I am… then I'm going to give you his spine… maybe his head, too… on a silver platter. I had it all figured out earlier."

Harry looked vaguely green, but pulled Malfoy's head down for another kiss. "How sweet," he murmured, "And disgusting."

Draco chuckled, "Squeamish for a Gryffindor, aren't we? Besides, nobody tries to kill my baby and gets away with it."



Harry grinned, blushing. "Kay then… does that mean you get a pet name, too?"

"Yup, I was thinking of 'The most gorgeous man in existence', what do you think? Has a nice ring to it, I thought."

"Yeah, but I think that's Lockhart's old nickname," they both shuddered, "Besides, I kind of like 'Hey, I love you, fuck me already.' Now 'that' has a good ring to it."

Draco tilted his head to look ponderously at his mate. "Hmmm, I'm not sure," he murmured, "better try saying it… see how it fits into a real conversation."

Harry grinned. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey." Draco smiled back, looking deeply into Harry's heavy lidded gaze.

"I love you."

Shivers travelled the length of Draco's spine at the words, like frosted twigs scraped across a xylophone as all his hair rose up, eyes darkening in need. "And I love you," he rasped.

Harry lifted his head until his lips were a hair's breadth from Draco's, dilated emerald fixed onto dilated silver. "Fuck me already," he demanded quietly and a groan was torn from deep within Draco as he crushed their mouths together once more, fists clenching in each other's hair.

Swiftly drowning in each other kiss, they both whimpered as Harry's renewed erection jutted out to press eagerly against Draco's own dripping cock, the blond quickly thrusting back to increase the friction. Harry groaned, a deep guttural sound, as he felt sparks soaring through his blood at Draco's touch. He quickly tugged at his mate's tongue with his lips, seizing the writhing muscle and pulling it into the moist recesses of his mouth, gently slipping his lips back and forth around it in a gentle imitation of his lover's previous actions.

The Veela hunched over his mate, pressing all of him as close as he could get without breaking the surface of their skin, fussing hungrily into Harry's mouth as he trailed one hand down his lover's body to grip possessively around the shaft. "Need to touch you," he slurred, eyes slightly unfocused as he felt the hot, white need burning low in his stomach again. Harry moaned, bucking into the Slytherin's smooth clasp, murmuring in distress as the hand released him, only to moan anew when the clever hand slipped lower.

Circling the entrance briefly, Malfoy placed the tip of one finger against the rosy cleft, applying just enough pressure to have Harry thrashing wildly against the grass beneath them, but not quite enough to penetrate the hot, dark depths. "Draco... nngggh... oh uh... mmmm."

Harry's chest gleamed as drops of perspiration coursed across it, flowing down to catch in the dark trail of hair arrowing towards his straining cock. His muscles bunched and heaved as he undulated beneath Draco's ministrations, speaking gibberish punctuated by moans as the Slytherin dipped his head to bite at the gleaming ridge of his hipbone.

"Oh, oh gods, Draco, fuck me... oh, oh yeah, please... inside me... come 'on'..." his voice rose in desperation and Malfoy decided it was time to reward his neediness, pressing his finger deep inside his inky-haired lover.

"You like that?" he spoke huskily, voice still catching in his fellatio roughened throat, watching in slumberous delight as his lover stilled beneath him, eyes wide in wonder. "How about this, baby?" Withdrawing swiftly, he thrust back in with two twisting digits, smiling devilishly as Harry's breath left him in a whoosh. "Or... this?" He rotated his fingers, scissoring them briefly before he turned them to caress Harry's prostate gland. Harry surged upwards, hands clutching wildly at Malfoy's shoulders. "Aah oh gods, Draco, oh, Draco yeah... just there, oh god... harder, please..."

Malfoy rocked his hips back and forth, miming the quickening actions of his fingers, face flushing with want when Harry squealed in pleasure as he added a third finger. His face burnt like a brand and every inch of his skin in contact with Harry's seemed to sing along its nerve endings, his body mere seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

"You like that? You want more?"

His voice had deepened so drastically with arousal that he wondered if Harry would actually be able to hear him over his laboured gasps, his own ears straining to listen as Harry responded through lust-bitten, swollen lips.

"More… Please, Draco… want more."

Draco bit his own lip hard, fighting the urge to just drive brutally into Harry's waiting heat, needing to hear Harry say he wanted it just as much as he. "How much more, Harry?"

Desire bright emeralds fixed onto his with sudden fortitude. "All, Draco… I want 'all' of you. Now."

With a sob of gratitude and overpowering hunger, Draco eased his questing fingers from within Harry, enjoying the way the brunet arched his back, moaning at the loss and writhing in abandon, eyes still fixed imploringly on his lover. Malfoy positioned himself carefully, easing his mate's legs over his own upper thighs, tilting Harry up for a better angle, suddenly grateful for his sheer amount of experience in these matters. He was going to make this 'so good' for Harry, he thought, cock twitching in anticipation as he eased the head gently into the brunet's stretched opening. Harry caught his breath, eyes darkening in pleasure, his whisper carrying to his mate over the joint pounding of their hearts, "Give me all of you… take all of me."

Inexplicably, tears flickered at the corners of the Veela's eyes and he inclined his head to capture his beloved's lips. "I adore you," he whispered, pressing his mouth onto his lover's, plunging inside him in one easy stroke. Harry broke the kiss, back arching in surprise and pleasure at the total lack of discomfort, Draco already pressing against his prostate and nudging it as he withdrew to thrust back in again. He looked deeply into the blond's eyes, which had never left his face as he writhed beneath him.

"So good," Harry breathed in wonder and amazement, wrapping his arms and legs further about Draco in an attempt to hold him inside longer. "Feels so good with you inside me, so…. Full."

Draco chuckled softly, smile spreading as the vibrations his laugh caused had Harry squeaking and thrusting his own hips harder against the blond's. "Better than before? Better than my hands?" he mocked gently, tilting his hips to ensure his every stroke hit Harry's prostate square on, gasping as Harry clenched around him hard.

"Oh, oh so good, much better than…. Fuck yeah… oh god so 'right' inside me… gods… yeah… Ummm, just there, like that oh god, gods, Draco, please stop."

Malfoy froze, face whitening in horror, "Am I hurting you? Did I hurt you, where? I'll heal it, tell me where, baby, I'm so sorry…"

Harry's face fogged over in confusion for a moment, colouring even more as he lifted his hand the tenderly cup his mate's face, bringing him in closer for a kiss. "Not hurting me, Draco, it just felt so good I just didn't want to 'go' without you… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to frighten you."

Draco scanned his lover's face for any sign that he might be lying to protect his feelings, but all he saw there was love and the deep pink flush of passion, a smile hovering at his kiss-swollen lips. He sighed in relief and Harry grinned, deliberately flexing his internal muscles to squeeze Draco's cock, loving the hiss his lover made, the spark of white-hot lust returning to his gaze. "Fuck me," he stated, blushing slightly as he heard the wanton rasp to his voice, confidence increasing as he felt the blond's prick jolt within him at his words, "I want you, Draco, do it fast…. Please, I'm... dying for you." He blushed harder as Draco look searchingly into his eyes. "Dying for 'me'?" the Veela whispered evocatively, his tone sending thrills racing up and down Harry's spine, "You have no 'idea', Harry… you 'want' me right now… dying for me, though, comes a little later… want me to show you?" His purr resounded in Harry's ears as he licked his lips, drowning in the quicksilver gaze of the man looming over him.

"Please," Harry whimpered, body quivering in need as he shifted his hips, trying to force his mate back into action, "Show me."

Draco slowly drew his hips backwards, one long sweeping withdrawal that left Harry gasping in loss beneath him, before slamming back in roughly, pounding himself against the brunet's prostate. He maintained eye contact with Harry the entire time, repeatedly drawing his hips back slowly only to slam home a moment later. Harry puffed and mewled, biting his lip, but never breaking his lock with Draco's eyes, whimpering as the fire in his gut slowly built itself back up to inferno proportions once more, but at that moment Draco chose to change his rhythm.

He ceased his drawn out retreat, choosing instead to sink in deep, moving with little jabbing, shallow thrusts against Harry's prostate that had sweat rolling over both their brows to blind them both, stinging in their fused eyes, but not breaking their stares.

"I've…oh… wanted this for so long," Harry whimpered breathlessly, now clinging to Draco, the upward thrusts of his hips perfectly aligned with his mate's so that they moved as one, body's surging together with each breath, each moan, each sob of pure bliss.

"I did, too…" Draco panted, smiling crookedly as he leant down to swipe his tongue over a bead of perspiration dancing at the corner of his love's mouth. "I just didn't realise that most people don't get off thinking about their supposed nemesis."

Harry's eyes shone with delight, "You thought about me? Like that?"

Malfoy started to laugh, but broke off as it transformed to a moan midway, Harry's back arching, pushing their bodies closer as they began their final descent towards completion.

"I, uh… oh gods yessssssss… used to have this Ummm fantasy…. Was supposed to be me getting you to… oh, oh god… mmmm 'm so close, Harry, so close…. You're so tight, my god so hot…"

Harry twisted, skin barely containing his pleasure as he bucked helplessly against his silver-eyed lover. "Tell me…. Oh yeah, just there… tell me about the mmmm… the fantasy… Tell me…"

"Always fooled myself into thinking it was your…. Ah…. Your basic Slytherin 'humiliate the boy wonder' fantasy… standard stuff really… jerk off whilst thinking about shoving my cock down your highly unwilling throat except… oh uh… except…"

He was so close, so close and Harry was clenching around him so tight….

"Except?" Harry was dying, it was official, no one could feel this good and live… only it felt like it was about to get better... A whole 'lot' better.

"Except you were... uh yessssssss… willing… 'Very' willing and ... And oh god you always came when I did... Oh god, Harry… now, baby… now…"

He slammed in hard again, burying his face in Harry's neck at the precise moment the brunet began convulsing, his name torn from his lips in rapture. "Draco! Oh gods… Draco… Yes…. Oh, Draco… 'Draco'!"

This last scream of Draco's moniker was muffled by the subject of these exclamations, Draco swallowing the almost frightened shout of ecstasy with his lips, plunging his tongue in as Harry's body clenched harder than he could take around him, sobbing his own release into his mate's feverish lips, tears raking both their faces in orgasm.

Both boys hips jerked, grinding briefly as they rode out the last of the tremors, murmuring anxiously against the other's lips as they fell back to earth still wrapped in each other's embrace. Minutes passed, Harry staring sightlessly into the sky above, Draco gasping against his throat, kissing the steadily slowing pulse point here and there, to reassure himself that his heart rate, too, would return to its normal rhythm in time.

"That was…"

"I know."

Draco lifted his again sweat slicked head to gaze delightedly into his partners eyes, only to find the brunet regarding him with a tiny crease between his brows. "What? What is it?" he asked, panic swelling in his stomach.

"Didn't I read somewhere that a male Veela can impregnate 'anything'... i.e. including me?"

Draco laughed heartily, relief overwhelming him. "Oh, gods you had me worried there baby… no, no you won't be pregnant. I'm not full Veela… I can't impregnate you just like that!"

The little crease subsided, but Harry's smile was slightly regretful. "Ok… kind of a shame though… always wanted kids… and just think how cute a bunch you mini you's and me's would be jumbled up together."

"White blond with green eyes."

"Black hair with silver eyes." Harry grinned wholeheartedly up at Draco and the blond felt his own heart expand three sizes just looking at him.

"You… you'd 'really' want kids? 'My' kids?"

Harry nodded, "It's cool, Draco… maybe we could adopt someday or something. I don't care… I love you and you actually love me, too… that's all that matters to me."

Draco smirked "Course you love me, stupid Gryffindor… how could you not? I'm practically perfect in every way."

Harry burst out laughing, "When the 'hell' did you ever watch 'Mary Poppins'?" he guffawed and quaked with silent laughter when Draco raised an eyebrow and queried mock frostily, "Mary Who?" Of course the only way to quieten a laughing Gryffindor, as every good Veela crossbreed knows, is to kiss him into silence. After quite a while there was no laughing, only soft sighs and the odd giggle as Draco tickled lightly at his lover's ribs to keep the excuse of quietening him. Eventually a bordering on breathless Slytherin raised his head to look lovingly into his raven-haired mate's eyes.

"I adore you," he sighed, " I don't want to share you."

Harry's eyes crinkled in quizzical amusement. "You don't have to."

Draco sighed again, long-sufferingly as he cast his eyes down to hide the glimmer of satisfaction within.

"I will when we have kids."

"You want to adopt?"

"No. I want our own kids. Silver eyes, black hair, green eyes and silver hair... I want 'ours'."

"But you said…"

"I said you couldn't get pregnant just like that. Part Veela's have to use a potion to enhance the strength of their sperm so you couldn't get pregnant unless we were actually trying for a baby."

Harry said nothing for a moment, his eyes shining as tears spread across them, the moisture making the verdant gaze sparkle brighter than the dreaded Aveda Kedavra. "I love you so much," he finally choked out, lifting his body so he was resting on one elbow, the other hand lifted to cup Draco's face in one palm.

Draco already rested upon one arm, his other stretched behind his mate to cradle his nape as he lowered his mouth to Harry's. "Mine…" he whispered, pressing his mouth to each trembling corner of Harry's lips before drawing back to look deeply past the tears, "You hold my heart forever, my own. I love you."

Harry tilted his head up and backwards, the sun sliding over his jaw as Draco's head tipped down to block out the light, but in the instant before their mouths connected, a bright light gleamed between them, surrounding their faces and illuminating the love written upon their very skin and camera shutter clicked repeatedly.

"Way to go, Harry," Colin Creevey whispered, tears running down his face, the only sign of his crushing heartbreak. "You deserve him… and he you."


He stared down at the muggle photo, images unmoving as wizard photos did, the subjects forever captured in that one pure moment of love before sealing their fate together. It made his old eyes smile and a tear spring to the corner of each in happiness. Those two boys had found such happiness in each other.

He lifted an aged hand to wipe way the excess moisture, adjusting his glasses on the end of his nose, as he moved to replace the picture in his desk drawer, with a twinkle in his eyes as his Potions Master strode in, scowling as he always did during school hours.

The years had been relatively kind to the snarling Slytherin, the Headmaster thought with amusement, noting that the sheer amount of sneering the man did at Gryffindors, and indeed students in general, had barely marked the haughty countenance. He folded his hands, awaiting the professor's next move with anticipation, barely containing his amusement as the darkly robed figure groaned loudly. "Oh you've not been looking at that appalling photo 'again'?"

He strode over to snatch the picture from the Headmaster's hands, scowling down at briefly before an odd light came into his eyes. "Bloody Creeveys," he murmured before stooping over the desk to press his mouth against the other professor's, sighing happily and deepening the kiss before drawing back, a look of distaste upon his face.

"You've been eating those 'bloody' Sherbet Lemons again, haven't you, Harry?" he snarled. The Gryffindor nodded, beaming widely at his mate, removing the slightly crumpled picture from his mate's hands to place it carefully in the drawer amongst the pictures of their children and grandchildren.

"I 'hate' it when you do that," Draco fumed, trying not to soften as he watched his love smooth way the creases at the edge of the much-loved picture.

"Yup," Harry affirmed, doing that bloody twinkling thing with his eyes to boot.

Draco chuckled softly, suppressing the urge to cast himself into his husband's lap and reminisce all day. " I love you, you great git."

Harry grinned wider still, pulling Draco down into his lap and running his hands through the still silky hair. "I love you, too, even though you're ten times meaner than Snape ever was."

"Thank you, and you're at least twice as batty as Albus was."

"Ah, that's all due to the Sherbet Lemons darling."

"I hate those things." Draco pouted and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Kiss me anyway?" he said imploringly, eyes shining with love twice as strong as it had been a century before. Draco's mouth curved into a soft, adoring smile.

"Absolutely," he whispered. And so he did.