A new story! This has been nagging at me for weeks. I hope you like it.

The idea isn't so original, but I think that my story will be a bit different from all the others. At least I hope. I have a couple of ideas:)

This is the first chapter, so it's not much, but if it gets enough good feedback the next chapters will be even better.

Story rated M for future HP/ DM slash

Enjoy:) Or don't. It's up to you, really. I'm thinking about putting Voldemort in the story at some part. He is around in this time period. But I'll leave that up to the reviewers. Remeber this is my first time really doing anything really romactic or slashy like, so, i'm not sure how it is. Please let me know what you think

"Don't you know how to cook? This chicken isn't done yet!" yelled Aunt Petunia, smacking Harry's hand with a wooden spoon as he pulled a beautifully cooked chicken that was a perfect shade of brown out of the oven. It had taken him forever, but he was proud of his work. It was Uncle Vernon's birthday, and Aunt Petunia wanted everything to be flawless. Harry glared at her while he placed the chicken on the top of the stove and rubbed his hand where she had hit it.

"Like you know how to cook a bloody chicken…" He mumbled under his breath. He grabbed the potatoes next to the stove with the pot holders and carried them over to the table, where he placed it down gently. The table was already laden down with food, but Aunt Petunia insisted on making all of Vernon's favorites, which included nearly every food imaginable. It pained Harry to see all this food before him and know that he would be unable to eat any of it. Already Aunt Petunia was ushering him upstairs and shoving a few pieces of bread and a can of soup into his hands, because Vernon's car had just pulled up in the driveway. Harry sighed and trudged up the stairs as Dudley ran down them and purposefully knocked into Harry as hard as he could. Harry grit his teeth and ignored the pain that shot up his shoulder until he made it to his room, where he collapsed onto his bed, dead tired. He had been helping Aunt Petunia prepare for the party all day while Uncle Vernon had been at work. He had slaved away in the garden, and cleaned every bit of the house, because apparently guests were coming over.

Harry closed his eyes and listened as the door opened, which lead to Dudley and Petunia shouting, "Happy birthday, Vernon!" and Vernon giving a big laugh. Reluctantly, Harry sat up and opened his cold can of tomato soup. It tasted horrible, and the bread was stale, but he had to eat. He was way too skinny for his own good. He knew Sirius would flip if he saw how skinny he was. But he also couldn't just eat sweets all the time. His friends had been nice enough to send him candy when he had asked for it. He had enjoyed it at first. However, even Honeydukes chocolate got boring after a while, and it eventually had made him sick. So he was forced to eat whatever little food the Dursley's gave him. At least they were actually feeding him this summer. Maybe later, after the party, there would be some leftovers and he could go downstairs and feast on those. Though, if Uncle Vernon's work buddies were as big as him, leftovers would be a miracle.

Soon there was loud chatter and laughing from downstairs. Harry's stomach growled in hunger, but he didn't dare go downstairs after what happened when he was twelve. If he even set a foot downstairs he would be beat within an inch of his life. Uncle Vernon didn't normally resort to violence, except when his work was involved. After that incident with Dobby he had been beaten pretty badly. He didn't want that to happen again.

As the night wore on the talking died down and the tantalizing smell of food went away. It was late at night, and Harry knew at this time Uncle Vernon and the men would go outside for a smoke and talk about work, while Petunia and the other women would gossip. It was still too early to sneak downstairs to get food. Harry lay down and forgot about the food. He was too tired. Maybe he could get up earlier in the morning, but right now all he wanted to do was sleep. Without pulling the covers on, Harry fell asleep while a pair of eyes in the tree outside Harry's closed window lit up in happiness, before disappearing all together…

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his sleep as it felt like a tongue was licking him. "Stop…" he muttered, thinking that it was a dream. But when it continued, Harry wildly thought that it was a dog licking him. Except, the Dursley's didn't have a dog. Harry's eyes shot open and he saw that somebody was on top of him, slowly licking his face. He screamed and attempted to get up from under the person. Whoever it was pinned him down by his wrists and lifted their face away from Harry's.

Harry nearly choked. Above him, straddling his hips, was Draco Malfoy, grinning. Only, he looked a bit different. His skin was, if possible, even paler, and his eyes were pitch black, with no pupils. His teeth were all pointed, like fangs. He seemed more muscular too and his eyes held a lust like look. "D-Draco?" he stuttered. Surely this creature couldn't be his arch enemy Draco Malfoy who he went to school with.

Draco nodded slowly, smiling a creepy smile. "What the hell are you doing here?" Harry yelled, trying to move his wrist from Draco's grip. It was hopeless. Draco was abnormally strong.

A chuckle passed over pale lips. "You're so pretty when you're angry, Potter." Draco purred. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Harry's hungrily. Harry's eyes went wide as Draco kissed him, and he struggled madly. This was wrong. So very wrong. This couldn't be happening. Draco hated him and he hated Draco. Why was this happening?

Draco moaned and pressed his tongue against Harry's closed teeth, demanding entrance. Harry refused. Growling lowly in the back of his throat like an animal, Draco grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and yanked back on it, making Harry gasp in pain. The second Harry's teeth parted slightly Draco forced his tongue in and began exploring Harry's mouth, from his teeth to his tongue.

Harry did the only thing he could. He bit down on Draco's tongue. He tasted Draco's blood in his mouth. Draco pulled his tongue out of Harry's mouth, growling, with blood coating the lower half of his mouth. He raised his hand and slapped Harry hard across the face, leaving a huge red hand mark. Draco glared down at him, breathing hard. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry struggled again, using his now free hands to pound on Draco's chest and attempt to push him off.

Draco grabbed both of Harry's hands in one of his own in a nearly bone breaking grip. He forced them above Harry's head and laid his body against Harry's. His free hand slipped under Harry's shirt and moved up and down his back. Harry spat in Draco's face.

Tears sprang up in his eyes as Draco dug his nails deeply into his back, breaking skin. "Stop fighting me, Potter!" He demanded. "I am a Prime Veela and you will submit to me!"

"What do you want?" Harry hissed.

Draco licked his lips. "I want to claim you as my mate, Potter." Harry shivered at the word 'mate'. It sounded like such an animal term. "Last year I could smell this wonderful smell. The smell of an unmated Servile Veela. It nearly drove me mad with need. But I didn't know who the smell was coming from. I kept following the scent and I kept running into dead ends. I was ready to give up. Then you port keyed back to Hogwarts with Cedric dead beside you, and I knew it was you. I knew you were that Veela that I was so desperately searching for."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The term Veela sounded familiar. But everything else Draco said was gibberish. All that he knew was that Draco's hand was going a little too low for his liking.

"I'll put it simply for you, Potter." Draco's hand grabbed Harry's bum and he squeezed it tightly. "I'm a Veela, you're a Veela, and I want you to be mine. My Veela side is getting restless. I want a mate. I want you." He smashed his lips against Harry's again, kissing him roughly. He pulled up Harry's butt, deepening the kiss and practically forcing his tongue down Harry's throat. Unable to move his arms, Harry could do nothing to stop the assault on his mouth.

Draco's free hand ripped off Harry's shirt and he ran his hand over Harry's chest. Harry hated it. So in a desperate attempt to get Draco off of him, Harry brought his knee up and slammed it right between Draco's legs. Draco howled and rolled off of Harry, clutching his privates.

Harry didn't hesitate to get off the bed and away from Draco. He ran to the door and pulled on it, not caring about the Dursleys. It was locked. Before he could try to find another way out, Draco had pinned him to the door. "You little bitch…" Draco growled, and sunk his teeth deep into Harry's shoulder. Harry screamed and fell to his knees, tears pouring down his face. The teeth were quickly removed and a tongue licked at the wound slowly. Harry spun around, getting out of the tight grip and trying to crawl away. Draco pounced and held him against the floor. He moved just a bit and turned Harry over onto his back so he had to look up into Draco's pupil less black eyes. "I don't have to claim you on the bed. I can do it on the floor, the wall…wherever. I just want you to be my mate." One hand moved to the button of Harry's pants. "You're so beautiful, Potter." He licked his lips again, his eyes scanning Harry's pale chest. "I'll bet you'll look just delicious when your Veela starts to show itself. I have to claim you before that happens. I don't want any other Prime to take you as their own. I found you first."

Draco's fingers smoothly undid the button on Harry's pants and he was about to slide them down with Harry powerless to stop him, but there was a loud pounding on the door. "I'm coming in, boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon. Draco froze, his fingers stretching the elastic on Harry's boxers.

"Damn…" he muttered. He looked down at Harry, whose face was flushed red with anger and fear and looked oh so very sexy, and then to the door were locks were being undone. He seemed to be thinking. His fingers stretched the elastic a bit farther, then let it go with a sigh. "I can't risk it…"

Instead he gave Harry one more forceful kiss, got off of the boy on the floor, and went to the window, which he opened. After one more sadistic smile, Draco jumped out the window and disappeared into the night.

Harry was too shocked for a moment to do anything, but then he heard the last lock slide open and he quickly got to his feet, jumped into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chest. Uncle Vernon burst into the room, his face red from drink. He pointed a finger at Harry, who wiped away the tears of pain that had formed when Draco bit him. "You…you have to clean up downstairs." Vernon slurred. "Make it spotless…or no food for a week." With that he left, stumbling along the hall and into his and Aunt Petunia's bedroom.

Harry sat there, the blankets held tight to his chest, staring at nothing. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Draco had tried to rape him. That was impossible. Draco was supposed to be an evil, annoying Slytherin git who called him scar head and made fun of Ron's family. He wasn't supposed to be some creature intent on making Harry his... 'mate'. Even the word sounded so wrong. Harry quickly threw off the blankets and buttoned his pants back up, thanking god that Draco hadn't gotten any farther than he had.

He needed to tell someone. Harry rifled through his trunk and grabbed a crumpled piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. He sat down at his desk and knocked his books and other assorted items on the floor. Smoothing out the parchment, he placed his quill over the paper and tried to decide who he was going to write to. Who should he tell? This wasn't something he could just shout to the world.

Ron was out of the question. Ron wouldn't possibly be able to understand. He couldn't tell Sirius either. At least not in a letter. So that left Hermione. Yes…Hermione could help him. Surely she knew something about Veelas. She would understand.

So Harry, dipping his quill in his bottle of ink, wrote a letter to Hermione, telling her everything and begging her to tell him any information she had about Veelas. When he was done, he looked it over and decided it was the best he could do. He folded it, scrawled "Important" on the envelope, and paced back and forth, waiting for Hedwig to return from her hunting. All the while he tried to erase what had happened from his mind. If he didn't think about, he wouldn't totally freak out.

Finally Hedwig flew through the window and landed on the desk, a dead mouse in her beak. Her huge yellow eyes fell on the letter and she immediately dropped the mouse and stretched out her leg. Harry moved forward to tie it to her leg, but she hopped away from him and hooted. "Hedwig, what's wrong?" he asked, reaching for her again. She nipped at his fingers, but not in the affection way. It finally hit Harry. She could smell Draco on him.

He gently placed the letter on the desk and backed away. Hedwig picked it up in her beak and flapped over to the window. "Give it to Hermione, as fast as you can." Hedwig stared at him for a second, and then flew away to deliver the letter.

Harry stood there for a second, saddened by the fact that Hedwig hadn't let him touch her. He brushed it off and decided to take a shower. He snuck past his Aunt and Uncle's room and into the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind him. He turned the water to blistering hot and stood under it for a good fifteen minutes, scrubbing furiously at his skin, trying to wash Draco off of him. He felt so disgusted. He was only satisfied when he had used up the whole bar of soap on his skin. Harry turned off the water and grabbed the towel. He dried his body and his hair, and wiped the fog off of the glass. In the reflection he looked so pale and scared. Sighing, Harry dressed again and headed downstairs to clean up the mess from the party with a heavy heart. He hoped beyond hope that Hermione would be able to help him, and that Draco would never ever touch him like that again.

When he was finally done cleaning it was four in the morning, four hours after the incident. The mess had been horrendous. He was surprised that Aunt Petunia hadn't had a heart attack. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Harry made his way back to the stairs, ready to try and get in a few hours of sleep. What he saw in the hallway made him freeze and drop the dishes he was holding, causing them to smash on the floor. For in front of him, in green and sliver wrappings, were dozens of presents, and amongst them was the biggest basket of roses Harry had ever seen…