(A/N: Rated M for mature content and language.
Yeah, it's a Draco-Is-A-Veela-And-Harry-Potter-Is-His-Mate fic. I know... but I had to. It wouldn't leave me alone. I probably took quite a few liberties with the Veela thing since canon is quite vague about the whole... thing. I think the whole Veela issue seems to have gotten way more attention in the fanfiction world... so, fair game I guess?
Overall warnings: AU. Creature fic. MalexMale Slash. Smut. Fluff. Language. Most likely OOC Draco. Mentions of (and maybe eventual) mpreg.
Harry Potter stared, trying to understand how and why Draco Malfoy was on his front porch (with a strange glow about him that made him squint and cock his head every so often). Draco Malfoy, who was looking back at him with a calm, carefully blank face. Oddly, Malfoy's eyes weren't blank at all and that set off Harry's instincts more than the man's presence. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away from the intense, nearly glowing silvery-grey gaze.
Harry shifted his body so he was blocking the open door, a protective move that Draco noticed with a slight frown and an ever-so-slightly quirked eyebrow. He didn't offer any excuses, not feeling the need to explain himself. He really didn't want Teddy put in any kind of situation or to even see the blonde. And vice versa. He didn't actually feel threatened but he took no chances when it came to Teddy.
"I didn't know there were male Veela," he finally said, his response to Malfoy's first words of 'Potter. I'm a Veela'. It took him longer than he liked to come up with even that much and he wanted to wince at his inane comment but didn't. (He had long ago gotten used to Malfoy thinking he was an idiot; the blonde had accused him of it often enough.) Of course there were male Veela, they'd be extinct otherwise. He meant he had never met one before but, naturally, that's not what came out of his mouth.
"Yes," was all Draco said, lips twitching with a suppressed smile. He took the opportunity to look Harry over, acknowledging only to himself (for the moment) the feeling of warmth, peace and at last that settled over him as he did so. He, like most of the wizarding world, hadn't seen Harry in nearly 4 years.
The man disappeared shortly after the final battle. Harry had offered his testimony at a few trials (his family's included) and made a brief appearance at the big Ministry Ball that followed 2 weeks after the final trail. That was pretty much the last anyone saw of the wizard. He remembered Harry had looked embarrassed and pissed off nearly the entire time he spent at the Ball (but utterly, achingly, dashing in emerald and silver dress robes; the Slytherin colors, surprisingly, suited him) and he had been rather amused at Harry's reaction at the time.
Harry didn't look embarrassed or pissed off now, though. Only confused and a bit put out to be found. Especially, no doubt, by Draco.
Otherwise, as far as he could tell, Harry looked about the same: The same messy mop of black hair. The same brilliant green eyes dimmed a bit by stupid Muggle glasses—though, the frames were different; modern and complimentary to his handsome face. The same lithe, but short body (he mentally preened, some baser part of him delighting in the fact that Harry only came up to about the tip of his nose). The same subtle but powerful aura of magic that made his practically sing in response. It was refreshing, and oddly soothing, to see such familiar things after all the changes he had dealt with.
Harry tried not to glare at Malfoy's non-answer. "And you're telling me this... why?" he asked, closing the door a bit more when he saw Draco's eyes flick over his shoulder. He knew Teddy was still watching cartoons but he didn't want there to be any chance of Malfoy... bothering him.
He went back to staring, wondering why Malfoy felt the bizarre need to turn up on his doorstep—now, of all times—and tell him he was a Veela. He didn't think it was important. He didn't honestly care—he didn't even care to tease the man about not being so pure-blooded.
He wanted to smack his head against the doorjamb when he realized he had been eyeing the blonde up. Hopefully, it was subtle, but he doubted it. Malfoy was smirking at him and practically preening, the conceited arse.
"Who else is here?" Draco asked, ignoring Harry's question. He smirked briefly when he saw irritation flash across Harry's face. He quickly smoothed his face back out; he really didn't want to irritate Harry, even though it brought back feelings of before and made Harry's eyes almost spark in a very exciting way. He tried peeking around the other man's shoulder again and couldn't help glaring when Harry shifted again, blocking any view into the small, Muggle home. His eyes shifted back to Harry's and he stared, feeling a bit lost as he looked into the other man's green eyes.
Merlin; had they always been so bloody green or mesmerizing?
"Teddy," Harry said after a moment. He pursed his lips, unsure why he blurted the answer out. "He lives with me now. His parents... well, after Andromeda fell ill, I adopted him." He had been terrified at the time. He hadn't known a thing about babies but his unwillingness for Teddy to wind up like he did (with uncaring guardians) or with strangers overrode any discomfort or fear he felt. His appointment of godfather (and possibly the title of The Bloody Savior) helped him get custody over some random stranger or a well-meaning couple. He had called himself all sorts of names during the brief period it took for them to get used to each other but he never regretted the decision.
Teddy inherited his mother's Metamorphmagus abilities (learning to control it better with age but still limited to only changing his hair and eye color) but didn't seem to have any negative characteristics from Remus; he got a bit cranky during the full moon and if his hair changed it was thicker.
Harry had consulted every healer that would see the little boy and every one had said there was no evidence of Lycanthropy in Teddy's blood. Not that it would have changed his mind about being his guardian or how he felt about Teddy. It wouldn't—he loved Teddy like his own. It would've only changed how he took care of him.
Draco hummed, pleased. He had sensed a child nearby. He wasn't proud to admit it but jealousy, pain and anger had rippled through him at the thought of Harry having a child with someone else. Little Teddy Lupin, while related to him loosely, was fine; he wasn't a child of Harry's by blood, only of the heart. He no longer cared about any 'impurities' the child might have in his blood from his father, long ago having ceased to care of such things.
He aimed a small smile at Harry, thrilling in the immediate unconscious reaction of a returned smile; even if it was only a small one or that Harry didn't seem aware he was doing it. Nonetheless, he wasn't too proud to let it warm him thoroughly.
"I see. That's... noble of you." He couldn't stop the smile from growing when Harry's eyes dipped down to his mouth and a light flush colored his cheeks. He nearly crooned with joy (and had to carefully stomp the urge to cup the warm skin) but kept it locked down. He knew Harry wouldn't react positively (actually, he'd probably react violently) at the moment. "May I come in or not?"
"Alright," Harry heard his mouth saying before his brain could process and answer with 'no' or 'bugger off' instead. He blinked, shocked at his words but didn't take them back. He didn't feel any threat from Malfoy, oddly enough. And if he tried anything, he was confident he was faster than the blonde. He slowly backed up and held the door open for Malfoy, watching with slightly narrowed eyes as the Veela walked past him and into his home, his blonde head swiveling and taking in everything with a look of naked interest on his face.
"What do you want?" he asked, closing the door. The earlier feeling of irritation was no longer prevalent; now it was curiosity.
Draco looked around, ignoring Harry's question. He followed his senses to the small living room, his eyes darting around as he looked around. His eyes stopped and took in the small child on a large pillow that was placed on the floor. The little boy was lying on his belly, chin propped in his cupped hands, his knees bent so his feet were up and kicking occasionally as he watched a flickering box several feet in front of him. He looked to be about 4 and his hair was an identical mess to the one sitting atop Harry's head. He didn't bother getting Teddy's attention, sure the child's attention was firmly on the glowing device, anyway.
He just looked around the room again. It was small but welcoming. He actually liked it, but kept the opinion to himself since he didn't think Harry would care to hear what he thought.
He looked over his shoulder to see Harry giving him a heavy, speculative look. "Aren't you going to offer me tea?"
"No," Harry said, annoyance making a reappearance. He huffed when Malfoy only stared at him, a pale eyebrow crawling upwards, and threw his hands up. "Fine." He turned on his heel and tried not to stomp towards the kitchen in a childish snit.
Stupid Malfoy, coming into his home and demanding stupid tea like this was some stupid social call. He didn't want to be reminded of manners or some other polite shit one did with guests in their home. Unwanted guests shouldn't be given tea, right? He jumped when he realized he wasn't alone in the kitchen and flushed, reaching for the mugs as he set the kettle on.
"Are you going to tell me what the hell you want?"
Draco hummed and just watched Harry make tea. He smiled as he saw the other man doing it the Muggle way. Probably in an effort to eat up time and divert his attention. "I will, just not yet," he finally said, his gaze practically glued to the other man.
He took the moment to enjoy way Harry's t-shirt rode up (oh, and revealed a lovely strip of lightly tanned skin that he ached to feel against his fingertips or his tongue) and how his back muscles flexed and bunched when the shorter man reached up to a tall cabinet for something. He unconsciously ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his fingers twitching a little when he could just make out twin dimples right along the waistline of Harry's pants.
Oh dear sweet Merlin.
He walked over, trying not to chuckle, when he realized Harry couldn't reach what he was looking for. Before the man could whip out his wand and levitate the item down, he placed one hand on the small of Harry's back while the other effortlessly plucked the box of biscuits from the shelf. He handed it over, enjoying the flush on Harry's cheeks again. He didn't remove his hand from where it was on Harry's back, and he probably wouldn't until Harry made him. The simple touch sent his senses reeling and he fought a flush of his own.
It almost felt surreal, feeling the warmth of Harry under his palm and for a wild moment he felt the urge to pinch himself.
"Here you are," he said quietly, his hand still on the box, smiling a little at a still blushing Harry.
"Thanks," Harry mumbled and dumped the biscuits onto a plate. He didn't shift away from the hand on his back yet. It was warm and comforting. Which was so fucking weird because... well, it was Malfoy's. After a moment, he cleared his throat and stepped away, immediately missing the warmth as the hand slid slowly across his back and returned to Malfoy's side. He hastily threw tea in the steaming water and stared, watching the water darken and the tea bits sink.
He looked up and blinked when he saw Malfoy watching him intently. "What?"
Draco shook his head and backed up a step, giving in to Harry's silent plea for space. "I have a lot to say. Are you able to speak?"
"I guess," Harry said and shrugged one shoulder. "Teddy's rumbling belly will bring him looking for a snack, but not for another half hour or so. Is that enough time?" He didn't want Teddy interrupting, mostly because the little boy still asked too many questions. About everything. He had no answers yet and he didn't even know where to begin should he be asked anything.
Draco frowned lightly. "I really don't know... I suppose it depends on how you react," he said honestly. He resisted the urge to worry his lip or wring his hands, but it was a close thing. So much depended on Harry not rejecting him... His stomach cramped and his chest ached unpleasantly at the thought.
"Me? What do I have to do with it?" Harry asked, trying not to sound annoyed. Or curious. He turned around again and made himself busy finishing the tea. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Malfoy moved over to the small kitchen table and sat down, even though he still felt the blonde's gaze on him like a physical weight. Being near him had been... odd. Unsettling but not at the same time.
He shook his head, trying to clear it and focused on the tea. "Sugar?" he mumbled at Malfoy, already knowing the answer. He spent a fair amount of time watching the blonde (mostly in sixth year) but he didn't want it be obvious he knew how Draco took his tea. It seemed a bit... creepy, now that he thought about it.
Draco waited until Harry looked up and grinned. "Honey, please," he said, squishing amusement (and a tiny flair of want) at the silly idea they were using cutesy pet-names. He watched, warmth spreading through him, as Harry upended a Muggle bear-shaped, plastic honey bottle over his tea for about three seconds and stirred it twice. He had been sure Harry knew how he liked his tea and he was ridiculously pleased to be proven right.
He watched as Harry picked up both mugs and walked over, sitting across from him. He took the second mug, letting his fingers brush Harry's before the other man could let go. He watched closely for any reaction and smiled slightly when Harry flushed again and jerked his hand away as soon as he was clear of the mug. He hid a smug smirk, again pleased that Harry didn't just let the steaming tea slop out onto him or even dump it over his head (or in his lap). He absently tapped the rim of his mug, propping his chin in his palm and contented himself with watching Harry again. The other man was trying to ignore him and was focusing on blowing on his tea.
"What?" Harry asked, not looking up. He could feel Malfoy looking at him again and it made him want to squirm around in his seat. Not exactly from discomfort either. He scowled into his tea. He hadn't seen Malfoy in years and even then they had never really gotten along. Sure, they had made peace, of sorts, after the trials but it wasn't exactly a friendship; it more or less a mutual agreement not to hex the other like immature prats anymore. Now the git had practically barged into his home and was sitting there staring at him. It was unnerving and annoying! Rude, too, probably. He should probably point that out, remind Malfoy of his manners.
"Are you going to tell me what the fuck you're doing here?" he finally hissed, looking up and not letting the scowl leave his face.
Draco cleared his throat and slowly nodded. "Alright, since you've no patience left—" he said softly. He took a long sip of his tea, wincing a bit when he realized it was still a bit too hot. "I'm a Veela."
"I know that already," Harry ground out, feeling his patience stretching even thinner. "You said that instead of 'hello' earlier." He tapped a fingernail on the side of his mug, impatience and true curiosity warring and squirming through him. What was Malfoy doing here?
Draco pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "What do you know of Veela?" he asked instead. He really didn't know how much he needed to explain. He knew Harry wasn't stupid, regardless of how the man acted on occasion, and he didn't fancy the idea of going over things Harry might already know and risk irritating the man (or wasting rather precious time with him).
Also, he was curious. Not many outside of the Veela communities knew much about the secretive beings. He was only a quarter Veela and he had learned what he could from his father (he shivered slightly as he remembered those horrible first visits to Azkaban). His instincts and Veela blood were quite strong (strong enough to fulfill the mate requirement, anyway) but not as separate as others with more Veela in their blood explained their natures to be.
He rarely felt his inner nature speak to him as if a separate entity, it was just there; he didn't feel controlled or manipulated. At best he felt a gentle nudging, as if by innate instinct, that he could almost dismiss as his own thought process. He could also 'display' (as embarrassing at that was) but generally only with a strong emotional reaction.
He wondered if Harry would ever cause (or want) him to display his Veela side and the idea brought simultaneous feelings of want and apprehension. He would love the chance to show off but he feared Harry would react negatively. People either feared or lusted after the Veela form and he was quite unsure which reaction Harry would have. It was all very unsettling.
"Not a lot," Harry admitted after a long, thoughtful pause. "Bill married a quarter Veela. Do you remember Fleur, from the Tri-Wizard nightmare?" Draco shrugged, waving his hand in a vague gesture. "Well, anyway, neither she or Bill would share much about her being a Veela. They didn't discuss it and got... defensive when someone asked," he mused, staring off.
Fleur and Bill had been very reluctant to get into more detail about Fleur's Veela nature. The couple had gone from politely dissuading questions to ignoring them. At one point Fleur had glared icily and refused with a sharply worded reply in French (that wasn't hard for anyone to translate) and left the room. He had learned not to ask about it when Bill had politely told him he wasn't to know. Hermione, on the other hand, had been a bit more hard headed and Fleur almost gutted her. Fleur was rarely a pleasant person and got downright nasty when she wasn't completely content, which was hard to maintain. He had let his curiosity go rather easily, just leaving it at Veela being secretive about themselves and moving on.
He had a feeling he should've pushed a bit more...
Harry shrugged one shoulder and fiddled with his mug handle. "All I really know is they're a sort of magical creature, ooze sex appeal—like an allure. Uh, they're generally quite magically powerful and they've got predestined mates." He paused but didn't have anything else to add so he just shrugged again and took a long swallow of his tea, looking at Malfoy over the rim of his mug.
Most of that he had pieced together from books (which didn't contain much at all), watching the way he had seen a few Veela interact and react to others. He also knew Veela were nearly psychotic when it came to their mates but didn't add that bit, unsure if it was wise to mention it. He had nearly gotten shred to ribbons when he had hugged Bill at his wedding. Apparently, his interest in other males was the only reason Fleur had only reacted that way to him. He hadn't lingered but wisely kept his distance the rest of the day, keeping one eye on Fleur whenever he could.
Draco nodded slowly, a bit surprised Harry knew that much. He didn't miss the way green eyes narrowed at him, Harry's last words echoing loudly in his mind. He licked his lips, feeling nerves suddenly flood him. He had managed to show up and knock on Harry's door only because he had still been riding the euphoric excitement at having finally found him to feel the nerves too badly.
But now, sitting in Harry's cozy little kitchen with the man's green eyes narrowed at him, his magic slowly becoming a suffocating presence, he felt strangled by those returning nerves. He couldn't speak. He raised a finger and took another long swallow of tea, nearly choking as the hot liquid tried to flow past the lump in his throat.
He slowly put the mug down, watching as it lightly rested on the table. He didn't look up just yet, still feeling rattled and a bit breathless, and wished desperately for composure. This was one of the times he cursed his Veela nature—he was an absolute wreck merely because he was sitting across from Harry and he couldn't control it as well his Malfoy upbringing demanded.
Harry watched all of this with growing wonder and trepidation. He didn't want to think about why Malfoy had sought him out. He didn't want to think about why Malfoy was suddenly looking like he was going to vomit from nerves or possibly pass out. Or run away. He certainly didn't want to think about why he didn't want to hex or punch the pale arsehole either. His brows furrowed in confusion.
"Is that why you're here?" he finally asked, watching as pale, long fingers tightened around the flowery mug and whitened. "Malfoy?"
"Harry, I need a moment," Draco whispered. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, focusing on his breathing. He could just nod, Harry seemed to have figured it out, but he didn't want to be that coward anymore. Harry was brave and strong and deserved strength back. It might only be the Veela nature urging him, but he doubted it; he was a man, too, and he wanted to prove his worth and strength. He was worthy—he just needed to show it.
Harry sat, blinking, for long moments. He'd never heard the man call him anything but 'Potter' before and it was... surprising. It effectively shut him up, too. He obediently stayed quiet, sipping his cooling tea and gave Malfoy the moment he asked for. "Alright," he said after he noticed the death grip on the mug slackened and Malfoy's shoulders were looser. "As nice as this is—" He paused as he realized how true that was; they hadn't been reduced to petty name calling or immature jinxes once. He cleared his throat when Malfoy looked up at that, a strange warmth in his pale grey eyes, and waved a hand. "Continue."
"Alright," Draco sighed. "I'm a Veela," he grinned and made a soft shushing noise when Harry glared. "And yes, there are male Veela. Veela are highly secretive beings." Harry nodded and he gave a pleased, small smile. "Male Veela, even more so. Believe it or not, males are less willing to flaunt themselves like female Veela. We attract both sexes and tend to prefer... subtly."
He really didn't understand the myth of only women being Veela—they'd have died out ages ago if that were so. Sure, Veela willingly mated with wizards (and even Muggles in rare cases) but they were just as likely to bond with another Veela. And it didn't matter how much Veela blood one had, even those with Veela many generations back were proudly accepted as Veela.
Draco softly cleared his throat, preparing for the next part. "First, I feel the need to apologize to you."
Harry gaped. He couldn't help it. "What for?" he blurted. He could think of many reasons for an apology but he had never really expected one. Plus, he wanted to see what Malfoy would consider apology-worthy.
"Oh, Harry," Draco said with equal parts affection, regret and sadness. "Lots of things." He nodded when Harry only sat there, gaping at him. "I suppose I could start at the beginning?" Harry only sat there, stunned, so he nodded as if he'd gotten some kind of answer. "I apologize for being an utter spoiled git when I first met you. For being a spoiled little git that then had a mission to make you miserable ever after for befriending the Weasel and not me," he paused and smiled when Harry blinked. Surprise was clear and he wasn't sure if it was for openly admitting to being jealous of one Ronald Weasley or for admitting to being an utter arse. Probably both... Which was fair and understandable. "Well, I suppose that really covers most of it—For being a monumental prat. For everything."
He would go hoarse if he had to sit and list each and every offense, apologizing for it. He would, though, if that was what Harry required.
He hadn't known until much later, right after his inheritance and the subsequent revelation of his mate's identity, how badly he had misjudged Harry. Naturally, enough unauthorized biographies of the Savior had come out after the war to give Draco a better picture of Harry's life. There were enough half-truths and repeated facts for him to piece together something that resembled reality. And he had later asked a reliable source. He had never realized how terrible Harry's childhood had been; firmly believing that the Golden Boy's guardians had loved and cherished him, lavishing him with gifts and love. (It shamed him even now how completely he had gone along with Professor Snape's biased thinking, not even bothering to think for himself.)
Of course, if he had actually paid attention in school he would have seen right away how wrong that was. He hadn't, of course. He was quite self-absorbed and arrogant as a boy, much as it shamed him to admit. The dark-haired, skinny little boy had always worn hand-me-down clothing and didn't really settle until a week into school; finally eating small but full meals, his drawn, pale face slowly smoothing out as he relaxed (as if re-learning how to smile or laugh) and the color returning to his cheeks with rest and warmth and smiling at his friends.
Draco also knew a few details about what sort of 'adventures' Harry got into nearly every year at school. When he found out, he had been horrified and enraged at the thought of his young mate being put into such dangerous situations and failed so spectacularly by every single adult at Hogwarts. Mischief was one thing but allowing a child to risk his life (and his friends' lives) repeatedly was... unforgivable. He also blamed his own former Head of House, knowing Severus had been as aware as any other adult and turned a blind eye simply because he held a grudge against the boy's dead father.
He calmed his breathing with an effort, unwilling to have Harry misunderstand his anger. He didn't want the other man to think it was directed at him. He gazed across the table with an earnest expression, waiting for Harry's reaction. He didn't know how to take the slightly wide eyes and stiff posture, so he patiently waited (even if he had the smallest urge to throw himself on the floor at Harry's feet and beg).
"I don't know what to say, Malfoy," Harry finally said after sitting there for Merlin alone knew how long, just staring at the blonde. He saw no deception, no insincerity, no hidden ulterior motives. Only sorrow and true remorse. He didn't want to think about why—His mind firmly shut the door on that train of thought. He saw Malfoy's shoulders sag a bit more and a look of sadness grow, pinching his pale features.
Draco sighed, trying to understand Harry's point of view. Harry hadn't spent the last few years pining for a lost mate. The only thing that kept him sane and away from death was the absence of outright rejection. Harry probably hadn't given him a second thought, at least not a second pleasant thought.
"You could say you accept my apology... or tell me to piss off," he finally said, trying to smile at the last part as if he were making a joke. He only sort of was—it was, after all, an option.
"I—" Harry paused and his brows furrowed. He really wanted to tell Malfoy to fuck off, take his apology and shove it up his arse. Sideways. But, he didn't want to even more. It was a sincere apology, heartfelt even. He'd be an even bigger prat for not accepting it, wouldn't he? He only had to look into the pale grey eyes and see the sincerity. He slowly nodded, even if he didn't know why. As much as he wanted to avoid the reason, his damn curiosity got the better of him.
Why the sudden need to find him? Why was Malfoy being... nice? Why the apologies? It completely threw anything he thought he knew about the blonde out the window.
"Why?" Harry asked after a long silence.
Draco cocked his head a bit in confusion. "Why what?"
"Why apologize to me? Why now? Why do you suddenly feel the need to apologize to me for being a right bastard and making my life harder than it already was?" Harry asked quietly, firmly ignoring the tilt of Malfoy's head that his brain wanted to label 'adorable'.
Draco's lips pinched at the reminder but rolled his shoulders, loosening them. He could do this.
"You deserve the apology, Harry. I give it now because I've finally been able to give it to you, face to face. I... I've been looking for you, for years. I finally got the chance and needed to see you." He paused and took a deep breath, smothering the urge to cover Harry's hand with his to show his sincerity... and to just touch. He moved his hand to his lap and clenched it tightly when his palm tingled with the need to touch; now was not the time to test Harry's patience.
"I needed to do it because... I can't—I want you to look past our past and see me. Now."
"Why?" Harry asked again, his fingers tightening around his own mug.
Draco sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He could do this. "Because you're my mate."