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Wind Rider	By : SuishouTenshi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13758 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter Eleven
“Brimar, the Third Council’s child, finally finished his bonding ceremony today. It had taken the boy nearly three years to find his mate, and those who attended the ceremony could clearly see a nearly mad glint in his eyes. Suffering as he did for the past three years could not have been very pleasant; the community could only hope that his new bride may bring back some semblance of sanity to the young Rider.
“The festive mood was not enough to deter our disturbed thoughts concerning the future fate of our community. Brimar has officially become the twelfth member of our commune to find his Intended outside of our walls. Ever since the plague eight summers ago that caused the unexpected death of over fifty of our members, the precious balance has shifted beyond recognition. The plague left some fifty-odd Zephyr souls afloat in the realm between life and death, and these souls could not find immediately replacement in our children, for the Zephyr birthrate has always been low.
“Mary of Lithuania, Brimar’s bride, like the eleven before her, had no Zephyr lineage and only became a member of our community today. Taking her away from the human civilization was not an easy task. Though she responded to Brimar’s courting positively due to the developing Zephyr magic in her body, her family and her human fiancée since fourteen did not immediately relent. It was unfortunate that Brimar’s family had to abduct the girl from her home and ask a traveling wizard to properly eradicate the other humans’ memories of the past month’s events.
“More disturbingly, Baker’s son is now already two summers old, and we have yet to see signs of wings on the boy. The child was the first Rider to be born since the disaster eight summers ago, and by all means, he should have inherited the wings from one of our deceased comrades. The lack of wings on him and the other six children born since then could only mean that the balance has indeed been restored, and there are many more humans out there with powers that only born Zephyrs should have.
“As for the new members in our community, including the newly inducted Mary of Lithuania, not all of them have complete control over their wings or powers. Mary, for example, insists that no matter how hard she tries, she has only managed to call forth her wings (an innocent brown) once.
“Elder Druce and the rest of the Grand Council are deeply troubled by this. Our community is slowly falling apart, and one could only hypothesize how this might one day affect the fate of the winds. After all, while Zephyrs play no immediate importance in the specifics of worldly affairs, our powers as one of the four Runic Setter clans are too great to be discarded.”
Harry inserted a scrap piece of parchment filled with Quidditch doodles into the leaves of Artemis Malfoy's diary. That had been the last entry. Harry checked Ron’s bedside clock, it was just past three in the morning. With a whispered “nox”, Harry put his wand away and sank into the comforts of his bed.
In the past month, Harry had uncharacteristically buried himself into his extra readings. He took his books to meals disguised as Quidditch magazines. He pushed back his schoolwork in order to absorb the texts, digested each word and sentence, and a semi-permanent wrinkle had formed on his forehead from the frowns he put on while reading.
Hermione, Ron, and all those who were at Grimmauld Place to witness his “coming of power” had offered to take care of some of his task load for him and then deliver to him only the summaries or important bullet points. Harry had refused, saying that this was his assignment to himself, a challenge that he must undertake. The truth was, he was trying to get away from Malfoy's clutches for as long as possible. Though he was only delaying the inevitable, he would not go to Malfoy so soon, and would make the blond wait until Harry was mentally ready.
Malfoy had kept his promise. During classes, meals, and Hogsmead weekends, Malfoy kept his burning stare away from Harry as best as he could, kept his passions to himself, and allowed Harry room to breathe. Though Harry would never admit it, he appreciated Malfoy's chivalrous actions. He could still feel Malfoy's agitation sometimes, such as last Saturday during breakfast, when Malfoy wouldn’t stop glaring at him with anger in his eyes that plainly said, “read faster, you dimwit”.
Frankly, Harry was also all too keen to finish these thick tomes. Without Malfoy’s touch to balance his allure, Harry had been in continual glow-mode. The ridiculous Fay-like glimmer wouldn’t dim at all because Harry’s mind was constantly focused on his supposed Intended, the result was so bad that several of his Professors had to resort to ask Harry to leave their classrooms so the rest of the student body could actually focus on the lessons.
Two weeks into their little agreement, Harry had given in and sought Malfoy out. Apparently, Ron and the other boys were annoyed that Harry’s light was distracting them from sleep, and Seamus’ pitiful pleads didn’t help their slumbers either. Upon meeting Harry inside the empty Quidditch locker room, Malfoy had grabbed him and snogged him silly until ugly-Harry returned. Harry’s roommates slept very well that night, but the boy who lived didn’t get a single second of shut-eye due to the still burning sensations of Malfoy’s lips upon his skin. That had been the only physical contact they had in all of the last month.
The fortunate thing for him was that these ancient books were general written in large sized words and literally littered with useless illustrations and decorations. Furthermore, half of them had merely a few pages on Zephyrs. In the end, with Harry’s newly developed persistence, Malfoy’s silent urgings, Snape’s scowls, and the straightforward reading material, on the morning of Halloween, Harry finally finished all eighteen texts.
For a reason that Harry didn’t quite want to delve into, he had fallen into sleep with a silly grin as his head imagined over and over again the greeting Malfoy would give him when Harry tells him the good news.
“Fuck off!” Draco yelled as Blaise banged on the bathroom door once again. Zabini mumbled something threatening from the other side of the barrier but Draco could hear the dark-haired wizard’s footsteps walking away.
Groaning, Draco checked his reflection for the umpteenth time and waved his wand to place more glamour charms on his features so he wouldn’t look exactly like a vampire version of Snape. Salazar, when was the last time he even washed his hair, his beautiful white-blond hair? And those bags under his eyes were definitely not appealing.
Draco’s hand trembled as he took out the filled vial from his robe pocket, uncorked it shakily and brought the content to his mouth like a starved man. It was diluted and would not do much except ease his desire a bit. Frustrated, Draco smashed the now empty vial against the sink and watched with little satisfaction as the tiny shards scattered around him, even the minutest specks seemed to understand his current mood and were afraid to land near his vulnerable hand.
Dammit... Draco turned on the faucet and washed his face for the fifth time that morning. He had let himself sleep through breakfast and Potions, and hoped that Snape would understand his need to be alone and let him off. But god, he was exhausted. For the past month, it had taken him more than he had to restrain his wants. The diluted draughts had to be used with precaution, and so Draco was left with sheer personal will to employ for most of the time. His timetable seemed to taunt him everyday for he was almost always within Harry’s vicinity.
Draco clutched his stomach and slumped forward until his forehead contacted the cold mirror. He was so cold, frozen from the inside out, every inch of his body was calling for Harry’s touch and scent. The fact that they had gotten past two stages of bonding only made his desire firmer. The insane possessiveness and jealousy became extra difficult to handle.
The worst of all happened to be the fact that Draco was noticing more and more of the real Harry Potter since he was spending most of the time observing him. The previous reluctant acceptance of their fate had now turned into a self-destructive curiosity.
He wanted to know, for example, why Harry refused to cut his hair when his long fringes obviously bothered him, why Harry always started his meals with dessert and ended with soup, why Harry always bit the right side of his bottom lip when he thought intently about something, why Harry tapped incessantly whenever he read.
At first Draco passed it off as a normal spouse-to-be thing to do. After all, wasn’t one supposed to get to know one’s future husband/mate to make the bond stronger or something silly like that? But the little questions soon turned into idiotic comments Draco would make to himself when he should have been listening to his friends talk.
Golden Boy never does break a promise, does he? was the first rhetoric remark he made when he didn’t see Harry’s face for days on end because it was always buried within a book. He then continued to make observations about Harry’s daily habits and attitudes toward life in Hogwarts in general, and disturbingly enough, the words brave, loyal, kind, cute, sweet, silly,messy, and darling often came up in his silent descriptions of the brunette.
Draco wiped his face clean and finally made his way down toward lunch. He had to eat something. Maybe McGonagall will let him miss Transfigurations. The Halloween dinner was something that he did not want to sleep through.
The din of the Great Hall became louder as Draco closed in on the double doors. The first thing he did upon sitting down was to seek out the familiar sight of one Harry Potter. To his surprise, Harry wasn’t in his usual seat and Draco’s eyes landed on Weasley’s instead. Ron scowled for a second before shrugging.
A tap on Draco’s shoulder made him look back. In his peripheral view, he could see Blaise and the others were deeply involved in planning a prank on the lower years.
“A new assignment was handed out during the class you missed this morning, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape’s voice was icy, his eyes even colder. “I would suggest that when you receive the necessary information from your friends that you make a trip to Gryffindor in the name of House unity and notify Mr. Potter that he has detention with me Sunday night for missing today’s lecture.”
Draco stared numbly as Professor Snape sauntered back to his seat by the Head Table. Harry didn’t show up for class either? Why was Weasley sitting so calmly at the Gryffindor table without his best friend? Was Harry sick just like Draco? He hadn’t thought that lack of contact would have an effect on the “female” role of the bond.
His body was exiting the Hall before he realized where he was going. Gryffindor Tower was extremely high up, he belatedly noted as he waited for the staircase to change. He looked up to count exactly how many more stairs he would have to climb when he saw him, the ever irresistible boy who lived. Harry was glowing as brightly as ever, his right hand tugged at his sleeve, a clear sign that he was nervous. He was exactly one floor up and was standing near the ledge of a staircase with two familiar Slytherins blocking his way.
The staircase finally came and Draco jumped on it and ran up as fast as he could to put himself behind the human blockade.
Harry saw him immediately; emerald eyes widened in surprise and some other indecipherable emotion.
“Get rid of that stupid spell, Potter,” Millicent Bulstrode hissed maliciously within Gregory Goyle’s arms. “We know that you’re a fairy without the light show.”
Draco’s left eye twitched at the intimate posture his two Housemates were in. Judging from their lack of response to Harry’s allure, Draco had to conclude that their date last week had hit off really well. But still...
“What are you two doing?” Draco drawled, smirking just a bit when Goyle and Bulstrode jumped apart at his voice.
“Er, Draco,” Goyle stuttered ever so brilliantly, “we just ran into Potter here and thought we’d teach him a lesson.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “A lesson? For what?”
Goyle was slowly becoming red from the neck up. Draco had unquestionable control over the teen. But Bulstrode did not fear Draco in quite the same manner.
“Just because,” the girl said insolently, “he’s obviously got the whole school wrapped around his finger, idiot Gryffindor probably accidentally cast a spell on himself that turned him into a girl. Or maybe he did it on purpose,” she snorted, “who knows how Gryffindorks think.”
“Hey!” Harry yelled indignantly and pulled out his wand.
Bulstrode ignored the outburst and did not take her eyes away from Draco. “Come on, Malfoy, I haven’t seen you bully him for more than a month. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for his poofter show, too.”
“Bulstrode, I’m standing right behind you!” Harry shouted once again, already making the necessary wand movements for a very, very painful skin-peeling hex.
Draco grimaced. He knew how the Slytherin hierarchy worked, he knew what Bulstrode was trying to make him do. He also couldn’t let Harry released that hex no matter how much he wanted to see Bulstrode hurt. All four of them were standing on the edge of a very, very high staircase. A multi-part duel was too risky.
Draco tightened his hands into fists within the confines of his pockets; he could feel the half moons forming on his palm, evidence of his inner torment. He wasn’t strong enough at the moment, but he had to do it. Inhaling deeply, Draco stilled his eyes to be as cold as possible and said through clenched teeth, “Who do you think you’re speaking to, Bulstrode? In what life were you ever allowed to talk to me in that tone? Besides, ever since Potter turned up in school looking like a slutty pillow-biter, I’ve stopped thinking of him as a rival. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about what happens in the Gryffindork dorms at night. Why would I want to fight an enemy when there’s the possible chance of him jumping on me with a totally obscene intention? It’s imperative for someone of my stature to stay away from dirty mongrels like him, not to go near them.”
Dimly, Draco could feel a warm liquid trailing down his palm. It took his everything to subdue the trembling.
Merlin, he was so afraid to meet those green eyes.
“So... sorry, Draco, I...” Bulstrode had the intelligence to look ashamed.
“Get out of here before I hand out detentions for inappropriate displays of affection in the corridors,” Draco drawled as calmly as he could and sighed with great relief as Bulstrode and Goyle scurried off.
As soon as the two disappeared from view, a hand grabbed onto the front of Draco’s robes and dragged him toward an empty classroom.
Draco stood frozen as he searched Harry’s face for signs of anger, his bloodied hands clutched desperately at a desk so he wouldn’t fall.
Harry’s expression was one of clear exasperation as he pushed Draco into a chair and flipped his hands over to check on the marks on them.
“Harry?” Draco asked uncertainly.
The other teen didn’t look at him, merely rolled his eyes and sighed before going about to heal the marks.
“Real smart move out there, Malfoy. Now look at what you’ve done to yourself. Consider yourself lucky that all my time spent in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey hadn’t gone to waste.”
The small wounds closed, not even leaving scars. Draco stared in bewilderment as Harry dully traced his palm with a finger.
“Still hurt?” Green eyes sought out silver ones and Draco forgot to breathe.
Hoping that he wouldn’t startle the black-haired wizard, Draco slowly drew the smaller teen’s body into his arms, tugged and prodded until Harry was sitting comfortably on his lap. Draco burrowed his nose into Harry’s warm neck and inhaled his Intended’s scent deeply. Harry seemed especially compliant today and willingly wrapped his right arm around Draco’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you,” he whispered against Harry’s skin and planted a kiss near the pulse point.
Harry shivered beneath the touch of his lips. His voice was quaking when he murmured, “It’s fine, I know why you did it.”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said it again, more for his own sake than Harry’s. Despite what he used to say, Harry wasn’t stupid, he definitely knew Draco’s intentions for those hurtful words. But for Draco, the mere punishment of bleeding hands wasn’t enough; his inner Zephyr was calling out for deeper penitence.
They sat there for what seemed to be eternity. Draco, so drunk on the scent of everything Harry, was almost about to fall asleep. Suddenly, shy fingers were tracing the side of his face.
Draco stiffened but didn’t look up, knowing that if he pretended he didn’t notice, Harry would continue with his administrations. Gryffindors hated being confronted.
“Are you feeling better now?” was Harry’s soft question.
Draco nodded and withdrew his head from Harry’s comfortable chest. He kissed Harry’s heart through his uniform. “I took a drought before I came, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” he replied after a nod.
Upon hearing that, Harry withdrew his arm and made a move to stand up. Draco quickly trapped him and said in complete seriousness, “Only a bit though, I still feel like I should die for what I said, and then there’s that ridiculous happiness at seeing you, mix that with reminders of my inability to claim you, so to be honest, I don’t quite know how I’m alive right now.”
He hadn’t intended for that statement to be funny, but Harry apparently found it so and chuckled. “You’re an awful liar, Malfoy.”
Draco frowned. “The one time I’m actually trying to tell the truth.... And how many times do I have to tell you to call me by my first name?” His grip on Harry’s waist tightened.
Harry rolled his beautiful eyes. “But you said you just took the draught.”
“A very much diluted one, Harry.” The boy who lived still didn’t look convinced, so Draco took out his wand and did a Finite Incantatem on the glamour he put on before exiting the dungeons. Harry’s horrified gasp pleased him somehow.
“It’s all your fault, Harry,” Draco said without malice, “for reading so damn slow. Merlin, I’m tired...”
Harry was biting the right side of his bottom lip again. His eyes drooped at the corners and Draco felt an unexplainable urge to change the subject.
What would he talk about? Quidditch? The Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match was next week. The weather was abysmal, so better stay away from that topic. Hogsmead weekend was coming up as well, maybe he could ask Harry what kind of Yule present he wanted, Draco had always liked to do his shopping early. Or should he bring up how his mother wanted to meet Harry in person to...
Or he should stop contemplating because Harry’s lips were moving boldly against his. Sweet Salazar, he loved Gryffindor courage!
His arms wound around Harry immediately to draw their bodies insanely close to one another. Harry’s hands trembled as they moved up to touch Draco’s cheeks. The kiss started dry at first, merely light contacts against one another’s lips, passionate yet tame. Draco could feel his breath become short as their movements quickened. Harry pushed back with just as much force, his chest rose and fell just as hastily as Draco’s. Their hearts beat against each other, their hearings flooded by the drumming within their ribcages.
Draco soon became impatient and parted Harry’s mouth effortlessly with his tongue. One of them moaned, and Draco’s dignity insisted it was Harry. Harry’s hands moved from his face to the back of his neck, and Draco could clearly feel the almost painful pressure Harry applied to his fingertips in order to draw their mouths closer.
It was so hot, the iciness inside had changed into an extremely pleasant heat as Harry’s tongue shyly massaged his. It had been so long, too long.
Draco was quickly becoming lightheaded, and despite his desires, he realized that both of them needed oxygen desperately. He licked the insides of Harry’s mouth one last time and withdrew his tongue, lingering only two seconds to nibble on the bottom lip that Harry liked to bite so often.
When silver eyes opened again, Harry was no longer glowing or in the least bit feminine. In fact, there were uneven stubbles on Harry’s chin and two small pimples on his forehead, obscured by his dark fringes.
But Harry’s eyes were still burning Avada Kedavra green, slightly unfocused due to their activity just seconds before. His slightly tanned cheeks were tinged with a bright red. His lips were swollen, a telltale mark of Draco’s claim.
Pimples or not, Draco suddenly wanted to tell Harry how absolutely stunning he looked. Glow or no glow, Harry still looked like Harry, and Draco wanted to do no more than throw him upon the nearest flat surface available and finish their bonding.
“Are you... are you all better now?” Harry asked breathlessly.
“All better.” Draco searched Harry’s eyes in wonder. How could there exist anyone so self-sacrificing? Wasn’t Harry supposed to be an attention-grabbing cheat with no particular positive attributes? Draco seriously doubted that if it were the other way around, if Harry were the one coming to Draco for help as a tortured dominant, Draco wouldn’t have done anything except laugh.
The sudden realization scared Draco. Harry had no obligation toward him, he didn’t need to accept Draco’s advances, he could’ve rejected his worst school-yard enemy and put Draco down once and for all.
Stupid noble Gryffindor. Were all of them like that? Or was it just Harry, the boy born with a hero complex?
That curiosity was coming back again, the need to know all he could about Harry, to dissect the boy from inside out. It ate away at him to know that he couldn’t decipher every one of Harry’s facial expressions, that he couldn’t read Harry’s emotions at any given moment. It hurt his pride when he thought about how Weasley or the Mudblood or every other Gryffindor knew more about his mate than he did. He wished he could witness every single moment of Harry’s life, to understand every single one of Harry’s thoughts.
Harry made a second attempt to climb off, and this time, Draco let him.
The Gryffindor Golden Boy was digging around in his pockets and took out a bunch of familiar little rectangular objects.
Harry looked at Draco with a blush, looking very pleased with himself and just a bit apprehensive. “Look, I finished. Overslept today because of it, too. Stupid Ron didn’t wake me up either.”
Draco nodded numbly. He wanted to knock the shrunken books aside and draw Harry into another kiss to congratulate him, but somehow, his mind was telling him that he no longer deserved Harry’s kisses. How could he, when he knew nothing about the boy?
“Draco?” Harry’s smiled faded; he had clearly expected a more enthusiastic response from the blond. “Something wrong?”
“No, er, good job. Do you erm, have any questions?” Draco scratched his head and rubbed his eyes. There was something gnawing at his insides; the calming draught was becoming less and less effective.
“Yeah, actually. What are the four Runic Setter clans?”
Draco was confused for a second. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Harry enlarged one of the texts and opened it up to a specific page. “Here, in your ancestor’s diary, it says something about Runic Setter clans. Don’t you remember reading this?”
Draco glanced at Harry’s crinkled forehead before shaking his head. “The last time I read Artemis Malfoy’s diary was when I was eight. My Latin was terrible and my father would only do the translation charm once for me. I never thought about going back to read this again after so long.”
“So... the Runic Setters?”
Draco skimmed the passage Harry pointed out for him and was stunned into silence. It wasn’t until Harry poked his side rather rudely that he even realized he had tuned out.
“Harry, I don’t believe this...”
“Believe what?”
Draco showed a genuine smile that seemed to have thrown Harry off completely. “You, darling, have just made the discovery of the century.”
“I have?” Green eyes were clouded with confusion.
“For years wizards and witches have been trying to understand the purpose of Zephyr existence, and to think, the Malfoys had it under our watch all along!”
“Draco, please, I hate it when you do that. Just get to the point already.”
Draco chuckled. “All right. Do you remember when I told you Zephyrs don’t live for any altruistic purposes?” Harry nodded. “Well, I think I was wrong. Since you haven’t taken Ancient Runes, you wouldn’t know of this, but our world, and especially the magical communities, has always depended upon what are called the Runic Setters. As I’ve told you before, the world originates from the four elements, water, air, fire, and earth. The principals of Runes require that each direction of the world must be ruled by one of these elements, and the Runes containing these powers would reside within four species of special beings.
“For centuries the four Runic Setter clans have been under debate. The current theory is that Water belongs to the Merpeople, Earth is guarded by the Centaurs, Fire is ruled by the Phoenixes, and Air is controlled by the Dragons. While most scholars agree with the first three as Runic Setters, some just refuse to believe that the Dragons could possibly be a Runic Setter clan. Merpeople are vicious but they’re civilized in their own right. Centaurs have no writing system but they’re incredibly wise beings. Phoenixes are one of the most intelligent and powerful magical beasts, not to mention immortal. Dragons, though strong, lack the intelligence evident in the other Runic Setter clans.
“It makes sense now. Of course, Dragons don’t control the air, Zephyrs do! That’s why there’s such a precious need for balance! Without the balance, the world’s air currents would be out of control. And Zephyrs can generate wind at will while Dragons use it and ride it. Zephyrs were also one of the only magical beasts capable of using human speech and writing. None of the other Runic Setter clans have records of the past that might tell us whether Dragons rule the air element, but this is evidence!”
Draco stopped his little lesson to look at Harry’s expression only to see the brunette staring very intently at him.
“What?” he asked worriedly. Ancient Runes was Draco’s favorite subject after Potions and he knew he tended to get a little over-excited when talking about it. He hoped Harry wouldn’t make fun of him over that.
“Nothing, I’ve just never seen you like that before.”
“Like what?”
“Like a child on Christmas Eve,” Harry said with a guilty grin. “You know, rather than someone who slaughters children on Christmas Eve.”
Draco smirked. “Like I’d do it on Christmas Eve. Don’t you know it’s more fun to murder them while dangling the presents right before their eyes?”
Harry’s grin turned upside down, and his eyes became impossibly wide. Draco kept his expression still. He couldn’t quite explain it, but it was crucial for Harry to figure out by himself that Draco was merely teasing.
The words finally reached the shorter Seeker, “You’re joking... right?”
And Draco’s earlier assessment of Harry’s intelligence promptly jumped off the window ledge.
Draco opened his mouth, ready to shoot off a masked insult. The words, however, died on his lips as a wave of uncharacteristic determination washed over him. The fact still remained that Harry didn’t trust him, still thought him to be an evil Slytherin, Death Eater Junior.
Suddenly, Draco felt a need to destroy that belief, to make Harry see that he could be good too. He wanted Harry to laugh the next time Draco made a joke about maiming or torturing people.
He desperately wanted to prove himself to this disheveled boy-hero who was looking down on him with worried but utterly gorgeous eyes.
“And?” he found himself ask in a passive tone. “What would you do if I said I wasn’t joking?”
Harry’s expression broke into one of absolute resolve, so very appropriate for his Gryffindor nature. “Then, I guess it’ll be my job as boy who lived, savior of the world, almighty chosen one, or whatever new name the Daily Prophet decided to give me to drag you back onto the road of righteousness.”
His light and rather ridiculous words made Draco feel a little more comfortable. “Even if the only way you’ll be able to lure me out of the darkness is by means of sexual favors?”
The scarlet flush descended upon Harry’s cheeks so quickly that Draco had to literally bite down his laughter.
“Yes, even if.... Oh shut up, I can’t say it!” Harry enlarged the rest of the texts and dumped them on Draco’s lap quite painfully. “I still have a few questions.”
“I can answer them after the sex.”
“There will be no sex!”
“Oh, you know you want it.”
Harry glared at him. “Fine, if that’s all you’ll think about, I’m leaving.”
Draco caught his wrist just in time. “All right, all right,” he said between chuckles, “I’ll stop. Questions please.”
Harry rolled his eyes but took out a scrap piece of parchment from his pocket. As he tried to smooth it out, Draco set the large pile of books onto the nearby table and went to stand behind Harry. The shorter wizard tensed as Draco enclosed his arms around Harry’s waist, one of his hands snuck under Harry’s robe, pulled out the tucked-in shirt and began to rub circles on his bare stomach with a thumb.
“Malfoy, what are you doing?” Draco could hear Harry’s gulp with his ear so close to the other boy’s throat.
“Reading your list of questions,” he tried to answer innocently, but the words came out in the most seductive tone possible.
“And why would that require your hand on my stomach?”
“You have a muscle cramp,” Draco whispered huskily. His inner beast was quite enjoying having his Intended so close, his chocolate scent so accessible.
Harry was about to protest when Draco had enough of their verbal combat and licked a wet trail up Harry’s ear. Whatever words he wanted to say dissolved into the air, and his body melted willingly in Draco’s arms. The blond had to chuckle when Harry’s voice failed him for a whole minute.
“Come, love, I can’t possibly read your scribbles. Ask your questions now... unless you want to do something much more pleasant.”
Harry squeaked. “No, it’s fine. Question one, erm, in Artemis Malfoy’s diary, he said that a lot of the humans who became Zephyrs had really weak control over their abilities, but how come mine is so strong?”
Draco thought about it for a while, fully content to just feel Harry’s muscles relax under his administrations.
“There’s something you have to understand about our concept of blood, Harry,” Draco pronounced at last. “When we speak of Zephyrs as full-blood or half-blood, we’re not actually speaking of it in wizard terms, at least, not anymore. When the Zephyr community was closed and the members’ wings were passed down through birth, everyone was considered as full-blood. Ever since the community fell apart, these words are more or less used to define one’s magical status.
“From what I just skimmed over, my theory is (and this is just a theory, mind you) humans who are made into Zephyrs could have varying degrees of blood (meaning Zephyr magic level) depending on the strength of their magic before they turned.”
Harry gave a very adorable “Huh?”
“Think of it as this. Mary of Lithuania was a full human before she turned into a Zephyr, not even a witch, and thus her magic potency upon becoming a Zephyr was incredibly low. You, on the other hand, are a very powerful wizard, so when you turned into a Zephyr, courtesy of my lovely cousin, you became what is an equivalent of one of the original ‘full-blooded’ Wind Riders.”
Draco had let Harry go at this point and was pacing the room excitedly. He had never imagined how much secret was hidden within his ancestor’s diary. It was absolutely fascinating.
“What about your parents, and you? None of you can be considered as weak when it comes to magic,” Harry asked.
Draco grinned. “Thank you for the offhand compliment. But really, you seemed to have forgotten that my ancestors were Zephyrs from the very beginning, and they had the actual blood in them. Imagine this: Artemis Malfoy, or one of the Malfoys that came after him suddenly found himself mated to a turned Zephyr, meaning one who used to be either a witch or a human, one with very weak Zephyr powers. The principles of Magic Arithmancy says that two sources of weak magic combined will make a strong outcome, but the fusion of a strong and a weak magic source will lean toward weak rather than strong. So the offspring of the full-blooded Zephyr and his turned mate will be born with full blood in the literal sense, but the child’s magic level will be lower than expected.
“The Malfoy line goes back a long way. It just so happens that with hundreds of years of mating and reproducing, my father happened to find a mate whose Zephyr magic potential is the same as his. And because mother and father are both weak in the sense of a Wind Rider, I am actually stronger than they are.”
“Ah...”
Draco snorted at Harry’s blank expression. “Gods, Potter, how can you stand so still after hearing about this? Don’t you understand? We’ve just uncovered secrets that have been hidden from the magic world for over centuries!”
Harry looked quite serious when he asked, “Draco, what do you want to do after graduation?”
“Is that your next question? Ah well, I guess you’re not interested in this as much as I am. To tell you the truth, I actually want to work to uncover runic artifacts, maybe as a curse breaker. I’ve always thought Weasley’s oldest brother’s job is rather awesome. He could stumble upon any ancient relic or runic symbols during his work.” He picked up the old diary and began to flip through it. “But now I think I want to concentrate on Zephyrs. Artemis Malfoy’s diary alone makes an excellent source for a book. To think, I could publish my first work as early as eighteen. Fucking amazing....”
“Yeah... amazing...” Harry murmured, his voice sounded so nostalgic Draco couldn’t help but look up. What greeted him was one of the most charming smiles he had ever seen on Harry’s face.
The old Malfoy confidence slipped away for a second there and Draco found that his throat had failed to work. He turned away and coughed roughly before asking in a much more subdued tone, “So yes, next question?”
“This may sound a bit morbid, but from what you’ve told me before, would the two of us die one day just because someone with Zephyr lineage decides to call his wings?”
Draco nodded, his previous joviality now fully suppressed. “I was actually very reluctant about this whole thing in the first place. Those like Tonks and her mother don’t have to worry; they never became legitimate Zephyrs in the first place. Actually, our fate won’t catch up with us until we’re old and gray, since the older ones always die first. But if possible, I’d like to get rid of this power without having to die from it.”
“Then why go through it in the first place?”
Draco snorted as gracefully as he could. “Can you imagine people like my parents giving up on such a prestigious heritage? Besides, the Dark Lord knows that Malfoys have Zephyr blood, and he knows that even at low-levels, that make us more powerful than normal wizards. He wouldn’t care about what happens to us after our usefulness have expired, as long as those like Aunt Bellatrix can roam about to do his dirty work.”
When Draco looked up to see why Harry was so silent all of a sudden, he saw the black-haired wizard with clenched fists, eyes ready to burn a hole through the stone floor.
“Harry?” he asked worriedly.
“I... I want to kill her...” Harry whispered; his voice tinted with obvious fear.
The Slytherin sighed fondly. “No, you don’t. You can’t possibly want to kill Bellatrix.” Draco went to him and drew him into a tight embrace of which Harry didn’t even bother to fight against. “You might want her dead, but that’s different, because even a wimp like Longbottom would want her dead. Actually, Longbottom would especially want her dead. But that’s not the point. Just look at your wings, Harry, they’re purely black. You don’t have it in you to kill.”
Harry stepped back a little and looked up at him in astonishment. “You know about Neville’s parents?”
“Though I loath to admit it, Bellatrix is still a part of the family. Of course I know about what she’s done to Longbottom’s parents all those years ago.”
“But... you never made fun of him about that. It’s always about his clumsiness or intelligence.”
Harry’s bewilderment looked so adorable that Draco was tempted to kiss him. “I wouldn’t go that low, Harry. Besides, I’d have to be desperate if I need to use that to insult him. Okay... why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Harry was beaming.
“Like I’m a kitten or something equally foul.”
Harry laughed. He actually laughed! “I think... Draco Malfoy has a heart!”
Draco rolled his eyes and put on his flattest expression, all in an effort to hide the little jump his heart gave. “Oh, alert the press,” he said in monotone, “Draco Malfoy is human.”
Harry laughed harder.
“Well, not exactly human, considering I can spontaneously sprout wings and you know, create a small tornado with my hands. Oh, and not forget my utterly irrational need to jump and devour a certain insane Gryffindor who walks around on worshipped ground looking like a mouse in an elephant’s clothes.”
“Elephants don’t wear clothes!”
“Well, I say they do, and thus they must. Because I am Draco Malfoy, the wizard with a heart.”
“And I’m not insane,” Harry said, his face still graced with a bright smile.
“Can’t exactly call you sane either. After all, what sane man on earth can resist someone like me,” he drawled.
“A straight one.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry didn’t look to be on the defensive, and so, he jumped.
“A straight one, huh?” Draco questioned just before he attacked Harry’s face with kisses. One on the nose caused Harry to protest; a second one below the right eye brought out a chuckle; a third one on the forehead made Harry squirm; a fourth one on the left cheek elicited a meaningless shove; a fifth one on the mouth made Harry go still.
The hesitation lasted barely a second. Draco felt the sigh on his lips as Harry gave in and answered his kiss just as eagerly. Their mouths caressed one another, tongues occasionally met in the middle for a short greeting. Their kiss was softer than usual, though Harry’s grip on Draco’s robes was just as tight as his grasp around Harry’s shoulders.
Draco’s inner Zephyr was at peace, and with the kiss came all the emotions that Draco had been deprived of all month long.
It wasn’t until the bell rang and Harry pulled away with a blush that Draco finally realized something had been missing in their lip-lock.
There was no unreasonable lust. The pool of energy beneath his stomach was dormant; instead, the heat went to his chest. Whereas previous encounters caused Draco’s heart to loosen with relief, this one grasped it tightly and squeezed until it was ready to burst from... from something.
Disturbed by this strange feeling, Draco let Harry go.
“Erm, I’ll go first.” Harry picked up his bag and made his move to leave. Draco’s hand was out before he realized it. Harry looked back at him expectantly.
“Hey, Harry, er, I just want to apologize for everything I’ve ever said about your mother. Muggle born or not, I’m sure she was a brilliant witch.” Draco’s face twitched.
Harry looked confused. But a small grin was given to show his appreciation. “Thanks. And I’m sorry about everything I’ve ever said about yours. See you in Transfiguration?”
Draco nodded and released his grip. He felt a little sick, and it wasn’t just because Harry had walked away. Slowly, Draco slid down to the floor and rubbed his face tiredly.
“Speaking of mothers...” He sighed and got off the ground. He missed lunch after all, and he had left his bag in the dungeons. If not for the fact that he’d get to stare at Harry during class, he’d go to the kitchen and hide there until the feast.
Harry...
Hmm, his heart just gurgled.
Sick, yes, Draco was sick.
Harry stood nervously in Snape Keep’s sitting room. Draco was off in Snape’s bathroom putting on last minute touches on his hair.
He couldn’t believe he let Draco talk him into this. He couldn’t believe McGonagall gave him permission so flippantly. He couldn’t believe he was in Snape’s house!
He couldn’t believe he was about to have dinner with the man who wished (and had tried) to kill him and the woman who had a direct hand in causing Sirius’ death.
He couldn’t believe the aforementioned two people could one day possibly become his in-laws.
His stomach was already doing back flips without Snape glaring at him with obvious hatred.
“Time to go, Harry,” Draco announced cheerfully as he entered the sitting room, his hands busily smothered down invisible wrinkles.
Harry felt ridiculous. He was wearing formal dress robes that Draco had bought him in secret, and it was extremely confining, and in Harry’s opinion, a little gay. Draco, on the other hand, was looking immaculate and extremely handsome (and straight!).
Harry had to smile a little at Draco’s enthusiasm. Actually, Harry had the bad habit of smiling whenever he saw Draco nowadays. Ever since Halloween, the two had spent as much time together as possible. On Harry’s part, it was to figure out exactly what to do about this mate situation, but for Draco, it was a chance to molest Harry to his heart’s content.
Truth be told, Draco’s “attacks” were becoming less often. Draco explained that it was because since the two of them spent so much time together, his Zephyr side was mollified and the urge for physical contact wasn’t as strong. But he had an odd look on his face that made Harry doubt his statement.
Draco still annoyed him at times though, such as his bouts of possessiveness and jealousy, or his control issues. Draco couldn’t understand that Harry didn’t belong to him (the “yet” there was silenced by Harry’s subconscious) and often made decisions without Harry’s consent, such as this dinner appointment with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.
Aside from all that, Draco had been more than tolerable. He still refused to be nice to Harry’s friends, but then again, Harry wasn’t expecting miracles. Without the constant insults, their conversations had been rather nice. Draco always had something funny to say or some clever comments on any random subjects. His passion about Ancient Runes was also something to be admired. They never talked about anything deep, nothing that concerned their families or their alliances.
They discussed Quidditch half the time, and other simple things like classes, teachers, the new shop that opened up in Hogsmead, the secrets of Hogwarts castle, and once, girls.
That had been an odd conversation, during which Harry discovered that he wasn’t the only one to have harbored an interest in Cho Chang. They both agreed that Lavender and Parvati were just as annoying as Pansy Parkinson, and that Hannah Abbott had filled out rather nicely. However, when Harry offhandedly mentioned that he had thought about asking Ginny out, Draco had shoved him against the wall and snogged him until he saw stars.
They never talked about girls again after that.
“Harry?” Draco’s tug on his hand brought him back to the present. The blond handed him the Floo powder and went into the fireplace first. “Be careful. Malfoy Manor!”
The roaring green light engulfed Draco. Harry looked nervously toward Snape as if pleading for some last minute advice. The Potions Professor took a sip of his coffee, snorted, and looked away.
Floo travel was just as queasy as always. Once he got out, Harry was promptly hauled up by a familiar hand before he even opened his eyes. Draco murmured a spell and cleaned the soot off his clothes. After he blinked away his dizziness, he saw the two infamous figures before him quite clearly.
Narcissa Malfoy was just as he remembered. Her head was held up high, and her mouth was in a frown as she studied him from head to toe. However, her eyes were warm when she went to hug Draco, and her smile lit up her face with a brilliant shine.
Lucius Malfoy didn’t even try to hide his displeasure at Harry’s presence. Even when Draco greeted him, Lucius merely nodded, eyes still intent on Harry’s countenance. There was a long and awkward silence.
“This way,” Lucius pronounced in his arrogant, pure-blood way and sauntered away in a manner that put Lockhart’s flashy entrances to shame.
Malfoy Manor was... big. Harry honestly didn’t know how else to describe it. For once he was glad that Draco refused to let go of his hand, because he was sure to get lost in the place without a guide. He supposed it was elegant, like many ancient castles were. But also in that stereotypical castle-like structure, the walls were cold and the atmosphere positively subzero.
The dining room was lit up and kept warm by three chandeliers and five fireplaces. There were two tables, a ridiculously long one and a moderate, family-size one. Harry was glad they went for the latter. Platters of food began to appear out of thin air as they approached their seats. Lucius sat at the head with Narcissa to his right and Harry to his left. Draco sat to Harry’s left and squeezed his hand discretely as they took their seat.
“Well, Mr. Potter, welcome to our humble abode,” Narcissa said, but her forced smile couldn’t hide that obvious twitch.
Harry tried to smile, but he was sure it came out as more of a grimace. Humble his ass. “Thank you for having me.” Harry gave himself ten points for a steady voice.
Their glasses were filled up with red wine, and Harry eagerly reached out for his cup.
“Enjoy the arsenic,” said Lucius rather quickly, and the already tense atmosphere became as stiff as a brick.
Harry stared at the cup and shifted his eyes to Draco. It worried him a bit when Draco looked at the red liquid with an unsure frown and turned to him with an even more uncertain smile of encouragement.
Harry glared at his cup and downed the cup in one gulp. The Prophecy had said that only Voldemort would be able to kill him, right? So he’d end up in a coma at worst, that’d actually save him the trouble of having to deal with this whole Zephyr business. No matter in what circumstance, he wasn’t going to back down from such a blatant challenge from a Malfoy.
“Good show,” Lucius’ frown deepened. “Idiotic Gryffindor courage, I presume?”
Harry picked up a piece of chicken and cut into it with a dramatic jab. He wouldn’t be able to eat the thing anyway. “Such slimy tricks are easy to see through.”
“And what, pray tell, would you do if it were not a trick? Did you give any consideration at all about how Draco would suffer were you to suddenly die due to a simple lack of understanding about the dangers of your actions?”
Harry glared back just as vehemently. “If my death would cause Draco suffering, you’d only have yourself to blame.”
The whole table shook with the intensity of Lucius’ rage. He rose from his seat and brandished a knife in place of his confiscated wand. “Insolent boy!”
“Dad, stop it!” Draco shouted. “And you too, Harry, he’s my father!”
Narcissa took a sip from her cup. “Oh, sit down, Lucius, he is our guest. Calm down, do it for Draco’s sake if nothing else. And do apologize, Mr. Potter, we are your elders, after all, and proper respect must be shown to...”
“I refuse to show any sort of respect to someone who would aid in the murder of her own relative!” Now it was Harry who could no longer sit still.
Narcissa turned frigid. “Draco, what is the meaning of this?”
“Harry!” Draco tugged on Harry’s sleeve to no avail; the other boy shrugged him off without even a side glance.
“You’ve heard me, I know about Kreacher! Sirius would still be alive if you hadn’t...”
“That is enough!” Narcissa hissed in a manner eerily similar to Professor McGonagall. “Have you no manners?”
Harry pushed away from the table. “I’ve had it. I knew it was a bad idea. To think, I actually willingly came into the house of Death Eaters!”
In his enraged state, Harry could faintly hear Draco whisper his name, his voice full of hurt and despair. Lucius and Narcissa were simultaneously shouting in indignation.
It was a disaster. It was a mistake. Everything had been one, big mistake. He made his way toward the door despite Draco’s protests. He wanted to go home. He didn’t belong there.
There was a pop in the air and before Harry stood a female house elf. The small creature bowed to him slightly before looking around his legs toward her masters.
“Master, Penny is to tell Master that Madam Lestrange is waiting in the entrance hall,” she squeaked innocently.
Harry’s hand was on his wand in an instant, and Draco was at his side even faster. The Malfoy family moved in perfect unison at this news.
Narcissa cleared the table with a swish of her wand. Lucius went over to a grandfather clock, opened the face glass, and turned the hour hand back until it reached twelve. The clock suddenly moved sideways to reveal a thin tunnel. Draco bade Harry to be silent with his free index finger and dragged him toward the passageway.
As the grandfather clock closed behind them, Harry could faintly hear Lucius telling Penny to lead Bellatrix Lestrange into the ball room.
“So much for dinner,” Draco muttered in his ear, the sheer darkness of the tunnel didn’t slow him down at all as he pushed Harry onward. Minutes later, they appeared once again in the room where they first came through. Still in a daze, Harry’s body ran on autopilot until he and Draco Floo’ed safely back to Snape’s house, where said professor was calmly reading a book by the fire.
“That was fast,” Snape remarked dryly.
“Aunt Bella showed up,” Draco panted, his nerves clearly in shambles, “and before that Harry was having a... Wait, Harry, where are you...”
Harry didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Draco’s sentence. He was already Flooing back to Hogwarts. It was Saturday night, and he had gone through too much emotional trauma to stay awake. What he needed was to fall sleep in his warm bed listening to nothing else but Neville’s and Ron’s snores.
Draco, of course, was following closely on his trail and had appeared out of the fireplace just as Harry shut the door behind him.
Dinner was still in session; Harry noted the empty hallway grimly. He didn’t want to speak with Draco, not yet. With that thought in mind, Harry let his Zephyr magic take over and he felt the familiar coldness that came with invisibility.
But within another minute, Draco had successfully grabbed his arm. “Just because you’re invisible doesn’t mean I can’t smell or hear you, Harry.”
“Look, Malfoy, I don’t want to do this now.”
“So it’s back to Malfoy now. Fine, let’s play this game, Potter, besides, there are only so many times you can slaughter this heart. I’ll fight you even if the guilt kills me. What the hell was going on with you just now?”
Harry let himself be seen. He turned and shoved Draco’s body away and noted with a sick pleasure at the painful expression on Draco’s face as his head connected with the wall. “What was going on with me? Were you not there when your father threatened to kill me with poison? And were you deaf when your mother kept on insinuating my lack of propriety? Your family hates me!”
Draco scowled and shoved Harry back. “For your information, my father was testing you to see if you would be more cautious from now on for both of our sakes, and if you haven’t noticed, my mother is a pure-blood witch raised within a very strict household, of course etiquette matters to her. You, on the other hand, were nothing but rude to them!”
“They deserved it!”
Draco glared at him for half a second before spelling a silence bubble around them. “You called them Death Eaters!” he shouted after he deemed it safe. “And they’re working for your cause now, putting them in danger to support you!”
“No! They’re not supporting me. They still hate me. The reason why they’re doing what they’re doing is for you, their precious little son! Your father was only looking out for you; he wanted me to be cautious for your sake, not mine! And I bet your mother just couldn’t wait to nitpick at me and my muggle upbringing! And Death Eaters, the last time I checked, your father is still a convicted Death Eater who escaped out of Azkaban!”
“So what? Just because he has a Dark Mark means he deserves to be in Azkaban? What about Severus? You accept him!”
Harry gave him the most incredulous look possible. “That’s the thing, I don’t! I loath Snape, I despise him, just like how I despise your parents and your aunt! The only good person from your bloodline was Sirius, and he’s already dead!”
Draco’s fire seemed to have gone out from under him. His anger deflated instantly and his bore an expression of absolute pain. “Harry... you don’t mean that,” he said almost pleadingly.
Harry shook his head exasperatedly. “You had Bellatrix Lestrange in your house at dinner time, Malfoy. Her highest ambition in life is to bring my decapitated head back to Voldemort, a madman who’s been after my life since my birth. If I was hesitant before, tonight’s so called dinner just made my decision firm.
“This is ridiculous, Malfoy. Can’t you see how downright absurd this whole situation is? Stop lying to yourself, this is not going to work. ‘We’re too different’ would be an understatement. The past two months have been an utter mistake. Just... I don’t know, let’s just go back to how we used to be. It’s easier that way.” Harry took down his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to look at Draco, he couldn’t look at Draco. If he did, if he did...
“Harry, you don’t mean that,” Draco repeated.
Harry flinched. He meant it, he had to mean it. “Malfoy...”
“And what do you expect me to do?!” Draco suddenly gripped his shoulders and shook him. “We’re one step away from finishing the bond; do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to deny my instincts?”
“What are you talking about? You said the urges have gotten easier since...”
“I fucking lied! You idiot, of course I was lying!”
“But, why?”
“Because I’m fucking scared! Because it’s not just about finishing the bond anymore! Because every time I see you I want to know more about you. Because every time you frown I want to make you smile because I know how precious your innocence is. Because everything you do bewilders me. Because I can’t understand how someone like you could possibly be real. Because I don’t see what I’ve ever done to deserve having someone so perfect. Because, because, just because. Because I have a feeling that if I let myself I just know I won’t be able to prevent myself from falling in love with you, you four-eyed fool!”
Then Draco’s lips were on him, stroking, caressing, smothering, sucking, nibbling, claiming, loving.... Harry had no bearings on the situation at all, his knees weak from both Draco’s confession and his kiss. Thin but strong arms held him to a warm body, but Harry knew he was falling down an abyss far warmer.
“Don’t call this a mistake,” Draco murmured against his lips, “not after all the soul-searching I’ve done.”
Harry pressed back against Draco’s forehead and voluntarily kissed the blonde’s nose. He felt drunk, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t the wine. “It’s not going to work, Draco. There’s too much bad blood between your family and me.”
“No, I’m not letting you go.”
“Draco...”
“We’ll make this work. Sirius Black chose me to protect you in his place, remember? He wanted this.”
“Don’t say his name, please, don’t say his name!”
“He wouldn’t want you to forget him, Harry.” Harry didn’t reply. “Actually, I don’t know anything about this cousin of mine. Tell me about him, Harry, tell me about Sirius Black, the real Sirius, the one who died for you and loved you and looked after you even in the afterlife.”
“Draco,” Harry looked up and let himself become lost within heated silver eyes, “how do you feel about me?”
The answer came after a long and serious contemplation. “I think I like you, Harry, I really do. Maybe I always have, I don’t know, would explain a lot of things, actually.”
“Come with me then,” Harry tugged him toward the staircases, “I want to show you something.”
- TBC
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Wind Rider