A/N: *avoids vegetables* Okay, so I still haven't updated Truth or Dare. Yes, I'm a horrible person. But can you please enjoy this and get over it? D: I promise I'm working on it. Yup, it's a Veela fic. I've never-ever read one, so this might be a little weird. Still, I hope you like it. This was done for Maggie. I wuv you. HAVE A RIDDIKULUSLY AWESOME BELATED BIRTHDAY.


Draco was going insane - he was sure of it. All he wanted to do was bash his head against the desk, but even that simple pleasure was taken away from him. Slytherins had to show proper manners, after all. Heaven forbid they actually show an emotion! Pursing his lips together, he took his quill and stabbed angrily at the parchment, writing so hard it ripped tiny holes through the crinkled, yellow paper. So, it wasn't exactly proper, but at least it was more contained. Somewhat.

"Dray, are you alright?" Pansy called, her lips twitching slightly upward into a smirk. She knew perfectly well what was wrong with him, as did Blaise. And Theo. Still, she never missed a chance to ridicule him in front of everyone.

"I'm fine," he muttered, clenching his jaw. Other than the urge to shag Harry fucking Potter's brains out, he added mentally. Out of all the people that could have been his mate, it had to have been the one person who hated him most, didn't it? He would have settled for a Hufflepuff, even! But, no, his mate was none other than the Boy Who Lived.

Karma was a bitch.

His father had warned him about this. He had explained that he was part Veela, but that he hadn't had any symptoms. They often skip every other generation. But Draco had more important things to worry about: like Quidditch and thinking about shagging Theo - a thought which was now beyond revolting. He had doubted it would happen to him at this time. Nothing ever did.

Or so he had thought. About two months later, he had woken up with a throbbing erection and the image of Harry Potter moaning and thrusting permanently ingrained into his mind. Since then he had decided to do a bit of research, hiding in corner of the library, hoping no one would find him. Nothing he found was particularly helpful; it was mainly paragraphs repeating that he'd have "urges to consummate the bond," as the articles so lightly put it. Obviously, none of them were written by a Veela.

The only other thing he was worried about was whether anyone would notice. The books stated that once the Veela started to show, people started to attract others. His features would get more defined, and people would suddenly start noticing him more. The last thing he needed was more attention. Plus, it only meant someone like Granger was more likely to find out. He was attempting to avoid public scrutiny.

Pansy, Blaise, and Theo were bound to have figured out something was wrong sooner or later. But Pansy had caught him moaning in his sleep that first night, and had demanded all the juicy details. Draco had stuttered, and turned pink - instantly announcing he was lying - and Pansy nagged relentlessly until he admitted. He had gotten only pitying remarks from her at first, but soon his pain turned to her glee. She proceeded to tell Theo and Blaise. Blaise had taken the same approach as her, while Theo mainly scowled at him.

Not that Draco could blame him. He and Theo had a relationship of sorts before it had happened. It had never been romantic - Draco wasn't really the type - but after being viciously attacked by Veela traits, he couldn't imagine touching anyone other than Harry Potter without feeling a stab of revulsion. Which brought him back to his original point - why did it have to be the Golden Boy?

"I'm going upstairs," Draco said to no one in particular. He couldn't concentrate on this. The Transfiguration essay could wait until later. Or tomorrow. Sullenly, Draco dragged himself up the stairs, trying to ignore his blood singing, urging him to draw forward, find Harry Potter, and fuck him mercilessly. The image of Potter moaning clouded his mind again, and Draco's mouth went dry. He could see himself, pulling his fingers through that perfectly messy hair, nipping and at the tan skin of his neck, feeling and tasting.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he bumped into a first year. The kid looked up and him with a sneer on his face. Did he know? Could he know? Draco felt ridiculously even wondering, but he couldn't help. If someone could see his thoughts... Again, Draco felt his cheeks heat up, and he hurried to his four-poster bed, drawing the curtains shut. All he wanted to do was get these fucking images out of his head - was that too much to ask? How long before he began to deteriorate? Or, sweet Merlin, was he already deteriorating?

That was the other thing - every book also mentioned that the longer without contact with his mate, the crazier he would become, the less he could think about anything else. It was concerning to say the least. Draco buried his head under his pillow and groaned. A nervous voice drifted in and the door to the boy's dormitory creaked open. Draco recognized it to be Theo's.

"Draco, can I come in?" He sounded reluctant. Draco wasn't really in the mood, but he flung open the curtains and glared at him. Theo only shook his head in response. His eyebrows knitted together and he seemed reluctant to enter. His back was slightly hunched over, and Draco knew from experience that when he bit his lower lip, it meant he was anxious.

"Veela or no veela, you're bound to be dramatic." The comment ironed out Draco's grim features, and he scooted over to make room. Theo grinned and sat down, but he soon seemed to lose all joviality. He sighed heavily before continuing. "Just stop whining and fuck him." It clearly was not the sort of response Draco was expecting. His features immediately slipped into that of a wounded animal, and he shoved Theo off of his bed.


"I don't give that advice lightly. Look, you're more gorgeous than you were before - how could he resist you? It's driving you mental, and it's driving me mental. Just do something about it." Draco just continued to stare at him. "Bollocks, I don't even know why I bothered giving you this talk. It's not like it's going to matter. You know what, never mind. Forget I said it."

"You can't just say that then take it back. And it's not like he'd want to shag me. He can resist quite easily, in fact. Last time I checked, the Golden Boy wasn't a poof, either." His voice was low and bitter.

"C'mon, Draco, your Veela traits are shining through. Your hair seem silkier, your eyes are glowing more, and you smell irresistible."

"You're not a fair judge. We've shagged."

"Fuck, Draco, even Blaise said he thinks you look attractive, and you know he's straight."

"So, it's happening already. It's been less than a week, and my Veela's already starting to shine through. This is just perfect." Draco scowled and crossed his arms across his chest.

"If he's so 'noble' maybe he'll understand if you just explain to him?" Theo lay a hand on Draco's arm, and Draco pulled back, looking repulsed.

"Don't touch me. It feels...wrong." The words seemed to get caught in Draco's throat, and he looked away. "And he'll only find it all to be a huge joke. I hate him."

"If you're going to just be moody, never mind then. Forget I asked," Theo mumbled, pulling himself up and walking out of the room. The moment the last bit of his cloak disappeared around the corner, Draco pulled the curtains to his bed around again, groaning.

In his mind he could only see flashes of what he wanted - skin pressed against skin, the air filled with guttural moans, and the taste of sweat and come fresh on his lips. They were both a sweet, sticky mess, drawn together, frantic - passionate. There was no time to be tender. Everything was desperate, filled with raw need.

Draco blinked rapidly, attempting to focus on the world around him, and not the fantasies floating around ifn his head. It proved to be rather difficult to do when all he could here were the nonexistent groans of bloody Potter. That blighter would be the death of him. If he weren't a Veela he wouldn't even be arsed by this. But now, life seemed to drift out of focus. Everything - words, people, surroundings - seemed to fade away. And Potter suddenly sharpened. Even out of the corner of his eyes, Potter made everything else dull down.

What else could he do but shove it to the side? Draco swallowed and pulled himself up. He was determined to try to get over this. He'd find a cure somewhere. There had to be one.


"Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall's shrill voice ebbed inside his daydreams. Somehow he felt as if there was something he should have been paying attention to. But the Harry in his mind captured his lips again, and Draco lost the will to fight back. These daydreams were well worth it. "Mr. Malfoy!" There was that voice again, trying to pull him away from these wonderful daydreams. But Draco resisted, grinning foolishly instead to himself. Everyone noticed his glazed-over eyes and McGonagall's reddening face.

"Mr Malfoy!" she called one final time.

"Potter..." Draco finally whispered. And then his eyes sharped. A red blossomed like a carnation across his face. "Oh mon Dieu..." The entire class' eyes darted back and forth between him and McGonagall's now-purple face.

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you ask Po- Potter the question? Maybe he knows the answer." Draco hoped his voice sounded more snide than his currently melting-into-a-puddle inside tone. Pansy giggled beside him.

"What Potter knows and doesn't know is of no concern to you. I didn't ask him the question." McGonagall was not amused. "Do you know the answer?" As he lowered his eyes down in shame, he shook his head.


"Ten points from Slytherin. I suggest you pay attention in the future." Sighing, Draco dropped his head down, allowing his hair to obscure the class from view. He could still feel people's eyes on him. This was all wrong. Wasn't he supposed to be the one arrogantly smirking at others people's misfortunes? He wasn't exactly used to being the one in this position. Malfoys always got what they wanted...

The period dragged on slowly, and Draco dutifully took notes, trying as much as he could to pay attention. Potter sat on the opposite side of the classroom, and it was tempting to glance over every once in a while. It was just stealing a glance - it wasn't wrong, was it? And it wasn't his fault Potter had those gorgeous eyes or hair that made him looked like he'd just been shagged! Merlin, that hair - if only he could reach out and pull his fingers through it.

No! His mind pulled out and he continued to listen to McGonagall's droning voice. It wasn't even that interesting of a lesson. There were too many notes. Perhaps if he could just do some magic, his mind would be able to concentrate on other things. But like this, it was just impossible.

Finally, mercifully, the class ended, and he groaned, grabbing his things and hurriedly shoving them into his bag. He had to get out of there as fast as possible. All he wanted to do was run over there and grab Harry. Potter - he meant Potter. And he didn't want to! It was just the stupid Veela part of him that did. Draco sighed.

"That bad, huh?" Pansy chuckled.

"Shove off." Blaise stood in front of him, beaming.

"Nah, don't think I will. It's much too amusing. Little Draco's fallen in love."

"I don't love him," Draco growled, then glanced around, afraid someone might have heard it. "It's just the stupid Veela blood. It's driving me mental."

"Really, you're going mental? I'd never have noticed without you mentioning." Theo smirked.

"Bloody hell, you guys are insufferable." Draco grabbed his ink bottle and it slipped, falling to the ground and shattering. "Shite." He pulled out his wand and cleared it away, and then stormed off as quickly as possible, trying to get away from the others.

"Aww, Draco, come back!" Blaise called. Draco shoved through a group of people.

"Watch where you're going," someone snapped, but he just ignored them, continuing to plow on. He had to get away from them - simply had to.

"Just get over it and shag him already!" Pansy called out. Draco stopped in his tracks and fell against the wall. He couldn't believe Pansy had said that in front that many people. Shouted it, in fact. All he wanted to do was curl up and let all of this go away. He clenched his eyes and tried to drown out everyone else's voices. They blended together and faded away. Away. Away...

"Oi, Malfoy, you're a poof now?" Weasley bumped into him and grinned with a childish glee. Draco resisted the urge to punch him in the face. For about seven seconds. "Woah, Malfoy - oof!"

Weasley fell backwards on the floor, helpless as Draco's fist collided direction into his nose. A yelp came from the ginger, and he tried to struggle back. He had no idea what he was up against, and only could weakly shove up against the constant steam of fists. Blood covered Draco's knuckles, and Merlin, Merlin, Merlin it felt all wrong. Behind the fizz of anger, the shout to the world - I am angry, I am angry, I am fucking angry - he felt sick. The contact, with the Weasel was too much. It wasn't Potter, that fucking prick, the vortex of all things miserable. He loathed him, he did beyond anything, and it wasn't - couldn't fucking be love.

Veelaveelaveelaveela - the stupid traits shouted it out for the world to see, and he knew it. He didn't even notice when the body beneath him went limp. The steady pounding, like the even tick of a metronome, continued. On and on and on. And his stomach continuing to wind up, pull together in pain, with each punch.

A hand yanked him backwards, and Draco went limp. That touch, fuckfuckfuckfuck, it was him. Draco didn't even need to see it to know. A thrill drove through his body, every part of him felt as if it was humming, finally alive. Every part of him forgot how to move, and his mind filled with beautiful white noise. Even when the wand went straight to his throat, Draco only stood, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Where Harry's hand gripped his shirt was like roots of a plant - Draco's source of life. As if he noticed it, Harry's hand pulled back, shivering. But his wand remained poised at Draco's neck. At the lack of contact, Draco's eyes shot open.

Harry was so close, centimeters away, his eyes burning with emotions, embers of green.

"Are you going to do anything, or are you just going to stand there?" Draco finally asked. Everyone around them stood silent, and the sound of Granger's sobs broke through.

"Harry, get someone. Ron, he's..." Her eyes connected to Draco's - Draco who was calm. Draco who was smiling. "What did you do?" She got up and lunged at Draco. When her skin touched his - so wrong so wrong so wrong after Harry's - his stomach violently coiled up again. The pain was there, and he doubled-over laughing madly. Even he didn't understand what was wrong. The Veela inside of him was making him mental. Every shred of sanity dripping away. An amateur attempting to recreate a Pollock - a swirl of paint and colours mixing together, seeping into a disgusting mess. Madness...

Harry was running away, and everyone began to speak again, and hands pulled at him. McGonagall was there, her eyes wide in shock. Harry and Granger were running off, carrying Weasley off to the Hospital Wing, and all Draco could think about were those eyes.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in Dumbledore's office, and a pair of sharp blue eyes looked at him beyond half-moon spectacles. Draco couldn't help but wonder was he a monster. And a laugh broke through his lips again, softly. Was Dumbledore wondering the same thing?

"Why?" he asked quietly, collectedly. No panic, no hint of anger.

"I couldn't handle it anymore." The answer slipped from his lips. A confused expression crossed Dumbledore's face.

"You couldn't handle what?" Dumbledore asked, his voice still as calm.

"What? Does it matter who? The boy is mad. He practically killed on of the students! He should be expelled, Albus - expelled!" McGonagall paced back and forth, waving her hands wildly.

"What?" Dumbledore repeated.

"The Veela blood." The whisper was so quiet. Draco didn't even know why he was saying it. He wouldn't have told Pansy if she hadn't had asked herself. And he hated this man, hated him for being so composed. Yet it spilled out easily. There was a silence. Even McGonagall stood still. "It's there, constantly there. I couldn't help it." Draco sounded mental even to himself, but Dumbledore only continued to remain as still as ever.

"I see."

"You can't ignore the fact that he nearly murdered a student," McGonagall said, suddenly snapping back into life.

"It isn't up to me to decide the punishment." As if on cue, Snape walked into the room.

"I'm sorry for the wait." Snape's lips were pursed and he glared at Draco.

"I'm afraid there has been an interesting turn of events, Severus," Dumbledore said as casually as if he were talking about a Quidditch match.

"Has there?" Snape's eyebrow raised slightly.

"It turns out the boy has a bit of Veela blood in himself."

"You can't possibly believe that absurd story, can you?" She looked angry beyond all doubt.

"I do, in fact. And I believe it's up to you to punish the boy accordingly."

"Severus, you have to expel him! After what he's done..." Silence fell across the office.

"Detention every night for a month. I can take it from here, Headmaster." Snape grabbed the front of Draco's robes before McGonagall could further protest, and pulled him from the office. As soon as they had walked down past the stairway, Snape shoved let go, looking disgusted.

"I thought your father warned you about this," he sneered.

"You knew! You knew and you didn't say anything. You didn't help me -"

"Of course I didn't. I thought you knew how to handle it. Lucius said he warned you. Clearly he has an idiot for a son." The remark stung, and Draco protested.

"How the hell am I supposed to handle this? My mate's not even someone who I can go to. I might as well just try to find a cure because he'd sooner shag a hippogriff than shag me!"

"Quiet! Anyone can be walking down these halls and hear you. Idiot boy..." He repeated. "Can you manage to shut your mouth until we at least get to the Dungeons?" Draco bit tongue and nodded, already thinking up retorts. Today was beyond his worst nightmares. What had everyone found out besides the fact that he was a poof? He had acted so rashly, though, even he saw that now. And yet, the feel of Hary's skin agains his made him almost think it was worth it. That warmth...

Snape closed to door to his office behind him. "He?"


"You said he. Does your father know that you're not willing to carry on the Malfoy line?" Draco's face flushed.

"I don't care what my father thinks. Theo didn't."

"I see." Snape's voice was cold. "And who exactly is your mate?"

"Are you really that thick? You couldn't figure it out?" He sounded scathing and hurt. "You can't see past your own greasy nose. Why should you care who it is?"

"I'm trying to help you!" Snape yelled. There was a pause. "I'm not going to let you make a bigger fool out of yourself than you already have. I promised your father that I would keep an eye on you. I was silly to think you could handle this from the beginning. I overestimated your abilities. Clearly, you're no more able to handle yourself than a baboon."

Draco felt guilt. It was bloody ridiculous, yet he did. All he wanted was this to go away, for it to disappear and never come back. His life had been simple, worry-free, and he wanted it back. Event-less was lovely. And he was throwing off the only person who could perhaps help make it go back to that way.

"It's Harry." Silence descended once more.

"Potter?" He sounded disbelieving. Draco nodded. "I'll tell your father. Maybe there's an anecdote, something to lessen the symptoms. I'll start searching. Just go to bed." Hope and anger had faded from his voice. Snape sounded hollow, defeated. Draco's shoulders hunched forward. If his only hope lay in a potion he knew to be non-existent, then he was doomed.


It was getting worse each day. Weasley had been back to normal by the next day thanks to Madam Pomfrey's amazing healing abilities, but the rumours had spread. Soon everyone knew that he was a poof. There were taunts everywhere, and each one Draco bottled up. Every person that brushed up against him added to his pain, tightening the knot in his stomach. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo eventually started treating him normally, but he noticed the looks they gave him when he wasn't looking. And even if it looked normal, sometimes their laughs sounded too forced, and their reasons for leaving made up. Worst of all, Harry wouldn't look at him. Hating looks he could handle, but this was so much worse. It was as if his mate didn't want to even acknowledge that he existed.

Draco had never felt more alone.

Pansy was sitting, drinking some Firewhiskey in the common room. "Merlin, I can't believe Snape's given us another essay to write. As if we didn't have better things to do over the weekend." Blaise nodded in agreement and pecked her on the lips. Draco looked away, feeling another pang. Every night, dreams of Harry clouded his mind. All he asked for was a simple kiss. And - alright - a fucking shag! Was it too much to ask? He scowled.

"Hey." Theo sat down next to him, smiling tentatively. "You okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" Theo sighed. "Just remember what I said to you before, okay?"


"When you shoved me off of your bed." He gave a genuine smile and reached out, laying his hand on top of Draco's. Everything inside of Draco seemed to build up and burst forth. He stood up and ran out of the room quickly. He could still feel Theo's hand on him, every part of him screaming, oh Merlin it felt so wrong, so terribly wrong. His feet continued to move, and he was leaving past the Dungeons, as far away as possible, up the stairs. But he could feel it, crawling under his skin, and he started to gag. Before he could think twice about it, he ran into a bathroom into the stall and vomited.

The ground felt cold, and Draco buried his head there, and closed the door to the stall before flushing the toilet. He didn't want to go back, and as absurd as the idea seemed, all he could manage was to sit there, curled up. Harry's voice drifted in. He was hopeless; he wasn't even allowed to mope in misery without imagining Harry there.

Yet Granger answered and footsteps followed. "Look, Ron isn't mad at you. He just doesn't understand. I'm not sure even I can." It wasn't all in his mind, after all! Draco listened.

"Then why are we in Moping Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Like I said, he's mad."

"It's none of his business." Harry sounded angry.

"It is a bit. After all, Malfoy almost killed him. If you hadn't had pulled him back..." Draco felt a gasp catch him his throat, and his heart beat quickened. They were talking about him.

"Yeah, well, I didn't do much good. I couldn't even bring myself to curse him. It was like this sort of shock went through me. I was angry, don't get me wrong, but he just looked so fucking gorgeous. Merlin, I wanted to shag him." It was almost impossible to fight back a cheer. His blood sang sweetly and he smiled. God, he had forgotten what it was like to smile. Harry Potter liked him. He fucking liked him!

"Language." Harry chuckled. "And what do you mean? Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I don't see why it's important. Just further proof that I'm mental."

"Maybe, maybe..." she muttered distractedly to herself. "I mean, no you're not! But it could be important. I'll look into it tomorrow. I don't think I'll ever understand though. Malfoy of all people... Maybe we should get back. Ron's likely to be asleep by now."

"Yeah, thanks Hermione. I hope he doesn't act too meanly for you taking my side."

"Me too." Their voices faded away with more footsteps. Every part of him hummed. Draco counted to a minute before he let out a whoop. Tonight wasn't turning out to be complete shite after all.


The next day Draco woke up with a smirk on his face. He was determined to corner Harry Potter and resolve this issue for once and for all. He was determined to - quite literally - make all his dreams come true. Potions seemed to pass by quite slowly. He kept on glancing over to Harry. The Gryffindor was just as determined to avoid him, but now that Draco knew his secret, it didn't affect him quite as much. In fact, it didn't affect him at all. Because Harry wanted to shag him. Draco had heard it with his own two ears. And he had thought life was against him.

When the class ended, Draco jumped up immediately, energetic and eager to try to plan how he would corner Harry. But Snape clearly had other plans, and called out to him. "Draco, can I talk to you?" Reluctantly, he pulled back, pouting, and followed Snape quickly into his office.

"What do you want?"

"You're different today. Has something happened with Potter?"

"No, not really...other than that now I know he likes me." The smirk burst forth again.

"He told you?" He sounded incredulous.

"No, but he told Granger."

"And Granger told you? I'm not following your logic."

"I was in the room. Only they didn't know I was in the room. So, they were talking to me, and I listened. May I go now. I'm trying to find a way to corner him and finally shag him. Merlin, that'd be lovely."

"I see." Snape sounded far from amused. "I'll tell your father all is going well."

Draco sauntered through the empty classroom into the hallway. On the other end, Harry was frantically trying to pick up some quills and parchment, which he had dropped. Draco could hear his voice drifting down the hall. "No, look, just go on without me. I'll be up in just a bit, Hermione. Make up with Ron or something." A grin crossed Draco's face; this was too perfect! He watched Granger reluctantly move away and waited until the hall had emptied.

"Shite," Harry swore.

"Need help with that?" Harry's head shot up and he looked at Draco with narrowed eyes.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Beating up Ron wasn't good enough for you? And now there aren't any witnesses. You must just love this." The accusations did hurt, but Draco assumed he did deserve them.

"No, really, let me help." Draco reached down and handed Harry a piece of parchment, letting their hand brush together. There was a spark before Harry pulled his hand back.

"I told you to let it go!" Draco chuckled. Harry looked vulnerable. Draco reached out again and handed him another sheet of parchment, letting his hand linger longer against Harry's. Harry jerked back again, his glasses tipping off his nose and falling onto his lap and sliding to the floor. His green eyes were no longer hidden, but pierced Draco. They were filled with fear, trepidation, wonder. And behind that something more. Draco knew that look. It was a portal shouting out Harry's thoughts: doeshelikeme?

Before he had time to contemplate what he was doing, Draco crashed his lips down against Harry's. Hands met him in weak retaliation, prying him off before he had a chance to barely taste anything. "What they fuck are you doing, Malfoy?" But there was no anger in his voice.

Draco didn't bother to respond. He simply pressed their lips together again and moved forward so his legs straddled Harry. His fingers wove into Harry's hair and he pulled back. Harry's jaw went slack and he moaned, allowing Draco entrance. Draco's tongue swept inside, tasting, feeling every crevice. Harry moaned, and went limp under Draco's touch, his hand curling around Draco's waist. Draco's mouth pulled away, and he nibbled at Harry's ear, teasing it, tasting it. The Gryffindor let out a sharp gasp and moved one hand up to Draco's hair.

"So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, continuing to stroke the blond hair. A low moan broke through his lips again and he trust up as Draco palmed his erection and moved his tongue down to start lapping at his neck. Harry's face was that of complete bliss, and he threw his head backwards, yelping as it collided with the wall. A chuckle vibrated against Harry's neck and Draco looked up to find those unnerving green eyes meet his. They were dark with complete lust, and made Draco's cock twitch.

He reached toward Harry's zipper and slowly undid it, his eyes pasted the whole time on Harry, watching him undo into a quivering mass of nerves. But before his hand could move any further, Harry stopped him.

"We can't. Not here." He panted slightly and arched up into Draco's hand. Draco ignored him and instead began to work at the buttons of of shirt. Harry weakly pushed him away. "Anyone will see us. We have to go somewhere else." Reluctantly, Draco seemed to see his point.

Pulling Harry by his tie, he brought their lips together for one more kiss before his pulled himself up. Both of them had mussy hair, and fought for breath. Harry followed Draco, his hand trailing up and down him, circling around him, through his hair. It was impossible to resist each other. All they wanted to do was feel and fuck.

When they finally burst into the empty boy's dormitory, Draco grabbed Harry and threw him onto the bed. Both of them had glazed-over eyes, and they met hungrily, desperately. It was beyond Draco's dreams because it was real. The skin beneath his hand wasn't going to disappear when he woke up. He worked madly at the zipper, and yanked Harry's pants to the floor. Next came his shirt. He lay a trail of kisses down the exposed skin, trailing down his navel. When he hovered above the boxers, Harry arched his back and groaned. But Draco simply chuckled and slid a hand down his thigh. Harry's breaths came in short snatches, and his eyes fluttered.

"Took so much to convince you," Draco murmured.

"Shut it and fuck me." A grin crawled across Draco's face as he hooked Harry's boxers and pulled down. When his fingers wrapped around Harry's cock, the Gryffindor let out a soft moan and thrust his hips up eagerly again. Draco leaned down and met his open lips with a sloppy kiss, his tongue flashing across his teeth, feeling, loving, wanting. He could feel the muscles in Harry's stomach tense and his fingers worked harder, with rougher strokes.

"Fuck, I'm so close," Harry muttered, and Draco's pulled away his hand. Harry's protests were cut off with a guttural sound as Draco's lips wrapped around his cock. Then everything coming out of his mouth turned to gibberish. Draco chuckled against it, sending vibrations that made Harry go mad. Draco's name turned into his hail Mary and he said it again and again, fervently. His mouth moved down and he took it whole without warning, the tip of his tongue brushing against the weeping head and sending Harry over the edge. He convulsed, writing out his orgasm, his fingers clawing at the sheets. Draco swallowed every drop, and he pulled back with a grin on his face.

Every part of him felt alive. What he had been before hadn't had been alive. This feeling was beyond anything. He felt invincible. His blood rushed through him, and every bit hummed with energy. The taste, the feel of Harry, Harry, Harry. It was beyond perfect.

Harry pulled himself up and helped Draco shed his many layers. As soon as his erection sprung free into the cold air, Draco hissed. But all thoughts of that fell from his mind when Harry next spoke.

"Fuck me. Now." His voice was filled with need, and his eyes smouldered. Draco scrambled around madly, searching for his wand, and when he finally lay eyes on it, snatched it and conjured a tube of lubricant. There were no whispers wondering whether it would hurt or not. Draco simply coated his fingers, gave Harry one final, messy kiss, and then slid one into the puckered hole. Harry hissed at the pain, but soon his face a dazed smile overtook his face.

"Relax." Draco's other hand reached up to cup Harry's cheek, and Draco immediately felt the muscles around his finger unclench. He added a second finger, and pulled them apart. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and Draco used all his willpower to stop.

"Don't stop," Harry muttered immediately. "It hurts but... Just don't stop." Draco wriggled his fingers a little and allowed Harry to adjust before adding one final one. This time Harry yelped. Draco's fingers curled in shock against the warm walls, and suddenly Harry thrust forward, a sound of bliss breaking through his lips. "That spot." Draco's fingers stroked the spot once more, relishing the sounds Harry was making, and then pulled out. Harry mewled at the sudden loss of contact, but his eyes hazed over the moment Draco became to smear liberal amounts of lubricant on his weeping cock.

He couldn't handle a moment longer and grabbed Harry's hips before roughly sheathing himself fully inside. Harry cried out, and lay limply against the bed, fingers digging angry red crescents into his skin. Draco hissed and threw his head back, moaning and the sudden heat. Oh, God, it engulfed him completely, and he was drowning in the heat, the feel of Harry all around.

"So, tight." Harry didn't reply, but merely bit his tongue. Slowly, Draco pulled out and thrust back in, and suddenly Harry's face lit up again.

"That spot. You hit it. Again." His voice came out an octave higher than usual and with shallow breaths in between, yet he grabbed at Draco, urging him to do it again. Draco, completely lost in his own pleasure was only too willing to unknowingly oblige. He rammed back in at a steady pace, and soon Harry was arching up to meet him.

Their skin seemed to light aflame, and the only sounds were of deep, low groans and skin slapping against skin. Every part of them trembled, and they became immersed in it. They weren't any longer Draco and Harry, but their names swirled together as time melted away and everything except for this and them and now lost meaning.

Each shove was brutal and filled with rough desire. Every moment with heat and indescribable wonder. Joy, lust, freedom. They were flyingsoaringtumbling. It was fucking magnificent. It was beyond it all.

Draco's fingers curled around Harry's cock, and he pulled in rhythm with the movements. Each stroke was rough. His breaths became shorter, and his eyes began to flutter. "So close," Draco gasped, and thrust in again. He shuddered as Harry's walls clenched without warning, and the Gryffindor came into his hand. "Look at me," he managed to mutter before the feeling of them constricting brought him over the edge as well. Their eyes connected, and Draco cried out, his eyes never leaving Harry's as he threw his head back.

When they finished, they collapsed on the bed, silent other than the deep, rugged breaths. "Fuck that was amazing." Draco mumbled, and wrapped his around around Harry. He closed his eyes and smiled. Harry turned around to face him, groaning slightly when his limp cock rutted against Draco's.

"How do you think the others will react when they see us together?" Harry asked, grinning widely. Draco's eyes opened and he pecked Harry on the check.

"I'm pretty sure they never saw it coming. But, I mean, Granger knows that you like me, so maybe she'll have figured it out by now. After all, you did feel that shock too."

"Wait, how do you know about that?"

"I happened to be in the bathroom when you guys walked in. Just fortunate, I guess."

"You prat, and you listened to my whole conversation?"

"Not all of it. And if I hadn't we wouldn't be having this conversation now, anyway." Harry's face softened and his look of mock-anger only turned out to be a badly disguised look of mock anger.

"True enough."

"It is important that you felt like that, though."


"I'm a Veela. Granger was right; there's something different." Harry pulled back, looking shocked.

"You're a - a what? As in the Veela-Veela?"

"No, the other kind, you prick. Of course, a Veela-Veela!" Harry suddenly seemed to be lost in thought. "Is that...bad?"

"No, not really. I mean, it doesn't change anything. Well, perhaps you're more gorgeous than you were before, but I think I can live with that." Draco grinned.

"I really can't wait to see the looks on Pansy, Blaise, and Theo's faces when I tell them."

"They know too? Merlin, did the whole world accept it before we did?"

"Guess so. Wait, that means we could've been shagging all this time!"


A/N: Rate and review? *hands out cookies* |3