Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fairest Creatures	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 22177 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 11
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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twelve—Captivating

            “I must compliment you on the way that you focused your allure this morning, Mr. Potter.”

            Harry smiled politely at Professor Helios. He doubted he would ever forget the way the man had chased him when he was crazed with desire, but at least he was sober now. And considering that he hadn’t even been in Professor Millstone’s class, where Harry had focused his allure on an animated dummy that would move either towards you or away, he must have heard things from other people. “Thank you, Professor.”

            “But you still need to let your wings bear more of your weight than your legs when you’re crouching to take off. That’s how you make the swift transition between standing and flying.”

            Of course, he’s still got to get in a dig about how I can’t fly like a Veela. Harry held back his resentment as best he could and nodded. “Yes, Professor,” he said, and went through the slow-motion steps of another spring into the air, while Professor Helios watched critically. After a moment, he nodded and moved on to Lily.

            At least they were both past the beginning stages of Wing Management now, Harry thought as he came back to rest his heels on the floor, and Professor Helios had moved him and Lily into a more advanced class. Harry didn’t like it when a teacher focused too much on him. It was easier to get lost in a crowd of almost eighteen Veela students who were practicing their wing-stretches and how to adjust their wings in various flight poses, even if he was the only man besides Professor Helios.

            “I envy you so much for being claimed already,” said an abrupt voice from behind Harry. “My parents say I’m too young to get mated, but they would have no choice if I got the right colors on my wings. I haven’t, though.”

            Harry blinked and turned around. The Veela girl who smiled at him had black hair down to her shoulders, shorter than most of them wore it, and brilliant silver eyes. She spread her wings so Harry could see the purple bars on them and bowed a little.

            “Kelly Adonis,” she said. “I’m one of those people who have Veela grandparents and whose parents told her over and over again that she was entirely human, since they didn’t manifest any powers and neither did my older siblings. And then I wake up on my seventeenth birthday, and there are the wings.” She shook her head a little and fluttered them. “I still trip over them.”

            Harry gave a temperate smile back. “I’m glad to have someone teach me how to use them,” he said. “But I still didn’t expect to be claimed or mated when I came to the school. I didn’t even have any idea what claiming and mating were.”

            Kelly put her head on one side. “You must have known some Veela before now, right? We’re not that rare.”

            We. It was still hard to use the word about himself, but Harry thought he was getting better at it. “Only a few people from France who were part-Veela. And some Veela from a distance during a World Cup game. They were the really scary ones, transforming. But none who grew wings like—us.”

            “While remaining human?” Kelly shrugged. “I suppose it’s just the result of different experiences. I knew all sorts of Veela like us while I was growing up. It was really common in my family.”

            “I grew up with Muggles, so I couldn’t have seen any before I went to Hogwarts.”

            “Oh!” Kelly stared at him as if he had said he’d grown up in a war zone. “I’m so sorry.”

            Harry drove his fist into the side of his leg to keep smiling. He would accept sympathy from people who knew what the Dursleys were like, but she was just doing it because the Dursleys were Muggles.

            “It was the way things were,” Harry said, trying to sound normal, but Kelly glanced at him a little worriedly. Harry was glad to see Professor Helios approaching, so he would have an excuse to end the conversation without being rude.

            “Mr. Potter, Miss Adonis, I believe that neither of you can rotate your wings through a full circle yet without lifting them above your shoulder blades?” Helios’s voice was mild as he glanced back and forth between them. “Perhaps you should try that.”

            Harry nodded at once and began to try to go through the difficult, delicate motion. What good it would do he didn’t know, although Draco had mentioned something about the use of muscles and the way that stronger wings would help him in flying.

            “Would you show me how to do it again, Professor Helios?” Kelly sounded embarrassed. “I can’t get my left wing to go through the whole circle, even though the right one will.”

            As Helios moved back to help her, Harry walked gratefully towards the other side of the classroom. He privately thought this class was a bit of a waste of time. He’d already flown, successfully, when he was evading the lust-crazed Veela in the corridors and after he and Draco fell off the cliff and he had to rescue them. He would rather have spent the time learning to control his other magic or learning the history lessons that Professor Stone was (reluctantly) giving them now.

            But maybe it would be worth it if he could learn to walk in a glide over the floor the way Draco did.

*



            “Why wouldn’t Veela dislike Muggles?” Professor Stone repeated blankly when Harry asked her the question in History class later that day. “Why would we like them? They used to hunt us for our feathers.”

            Draco was sitting next to him with his wing draped over Harry’s shoulders. Harry had let him because his closeness, even the warmth of his feathers, seemed to ease the muscle aches that he always had in his shoulders and chest after Wing Management.

            Now Draco’s wing tightened, tugging as if he was going to pull Harry against his side. But Harry was the one who had asked this question, and if he didn’t like the answer, he could always live with it. He put one gentle hand on Draco’s side, under the shelter of their wings and shirts where no one else could see, and asked, “Did this happen when Veela still lived among wizards, then? And wizards lived among Muggles?” That didn’t seem to fit with the pattern of the Veela history as he had learned it so far, which had them living separately from even wizards until a few centuries ago, but he had no real idea.

            “It happened in the beginning of time.” Professor Stone snapped her wings up and down, and for the first time since they had started asking her to tell them about history that didn’t concern mates, she looked fierce and bright instead of dazed. “When we went among them as saviors, and they took our wings and adorned themselves with feathers. Brighter than swans, they called us. We made headdresses for them.”

            “Oh,” said Harry a little blankly, and went quiet as Professor Stone turned back to telling them about one of the wars between goblins and Veela. Draco was still, only crooning restlessly under his breath when Harry moved to write things down.

            Harry knew from experience that that was a bad sign. But he didn’t know what Draco was upset about until they got out of Stone’s class and were heading towards the dining hall.

            “Why are you worried about Muggles?”

            Harry blinked at Draco. Then he shook his head. “I’m not. But I talked with a Veela named Kelly Adonis who said that she was sorry for me about living with Muggles, and I wondered why Veela disliked them.”

            Draco stirred his wings until they rose behind him. “I wouldn’t have assumed she was speaking as a Veela. She was speaking as a wizard. And no wizarding child should ever have been left with Muggles.”

            Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for not growing up in the right place and not knowing all the things you want your mate to know, like the Veela courtship steps—”

            Draco seized his arm and spun him hard to the right. Harry spread and arched his wings instinctively, protecting the most fragile little bones and feathers from being bent or broken by contact with the wall. He glared at Draco.

            Draco glared back. “It has nothing to do with that,” he snapped in an undertone. “I wasn’t talking specifically about you. I was talking about all wizarding children. Born Veela, not born Veela, whoever they are. No one should be left with Muggles.”

            “Muggles aren’t all horrible.”

            “They don’t understand us.”

            “Of course not, if we hide away and never explain anything to them!”

            Draco paused, and then moved away, folding his hands at his sides as if to keep them from touching Harry, something he normally never did. His face was a smooth mask. “You’re one of the Breakers?”

            Harry blinked back, and then said, “No. Not them.” They were wizards who argued that the Statute of Secrecy was outdated and should be broken, so that Muggles and wizards could live together in harmony. Harry agreed with some of what they said about Muggles and most wizards’ old-fashioned attitudes towards them, but not their lack of a political plan other than “peace.” “But I don’t think Muggles are all stupid bastards who cower and then snatch when they’re faced with magic, either.”

            Draco closed his hands into fists. “I don’t think that.”

            “Then why did you get upset when I said that Muggles aren’t all horrible?”

            Draco closed his eyes. His eyelids were so transparent that Harry thought he could see all his veins. “We’re arguing about two different things. I don’t think Muggles are horrible. But I also don’t think we should live with them. Marry them. Raise children in their homes.”

            “Two of my best friends are married to Muggles,” Harry said quietly. “Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. And all of their children so far have magic. Don’t tell me to agree with you when that would mean rejecting my friends.”

            Draco’s wings tensed and ruffled over his head. Then they drooped down in front of his face, so that he seemed to be looking at Harry through two enormous, dangling palm fronds. Harry bit his lip sharply. He knew he would lose Draco’s attention if he laughed.

            “I don’t understand how you can have grown up in the Muggle world and still be such a good wizard,” Draco muttered. “Do you know, I was looking up Veela transformations of the kind that produced you in the library yesterday? According to everything I found, you should have died. You only survived because your magic was strong enough to absorb the changes. But a wizard who grew up in the Muggle world wouldn’t have magic that strong.”

            “According to the Healers, everything about my case is unique,” Harry said, grimacing a little as he thought of the Healers and their arguments. “But I think it’s a silly prejudice, to assume that wizards who grow up in Muggle homes are less strong.”

            “I’m not talking about Muggleborns.” Draco seemed to think he was soothing Harry with that, but Harry only stared steadily back at him. “They’re used to it. They don’t know they’re different. Their magic can survive. But a wizard who’s not Muggleborn, who’s set apart by everything he is—his magic should be crushed before he reaches adolescence. All the theory and research shows it.”

            Harry sighed. He hated to reveal anything that would confirm Draco’s prejudices, but what Harry had to say next probably would seem as if it did. “Well, I fit right in with the theories, then. I’m a wizard who grew up thinking he was a Muggle. Sure, strange things happened around me, but I never connected them with magic. I had no idea that existed until Hagrid brought me my letter.”

            Draco reeled back from him and fell on his arse. He stared up at Harry from between wings that seemed to be crossing in protective patterns over his chest. His eyes were utterly bewildered.

            “Uh,” Harry said, trying to work out what he was supposed to have done now. He did reach out and haul Draco back to his feet, and asked the only question that made sense. “Are you okay?”

            “I’m okay,” Draco said. His voice was hoarse. He continued to look at Harry, and his face was transforming. He reached up and cupped his hands around Harry’s face, his fingers skimming his cheekbones and chin. Utterly confused, Harry allowed it. Then Draco’s wings rose and covered him in a cocoon of warmth.

            It was almost too hot, especially given the heat that was beginning to burn in Draco’s eyes, too. Harry reached up and touched one of his hands. “What happened? Did I hurt you somehow?” He didn’t know how words could, those kinds of words, even to a Veela, but he seemed to be learning mostly how much he didn’t know about Veela.

            Draco leaned forwards and kissed in him an oddly ritual way, forehead—lingering over the remains of his scar—and then nose and then cheek and then lips and then chin. “I promise that you’ll be healed,” he whispered. “Whatever damage you suffered from living in the Muggle world, you’ll be healed.”

            “I didn’t,” Harry said, still trying to work this out. “Unless you think I could have been more powerful if I didn’t live there? But I was powerful enough to survive the transformation and become your mate. So what does it matter?”

            Draco gave him a loving smile that was also condescending. Harry could feel his feathers ruffling along with the hair rising on the back of his neck as Draco took a step back and gave him a neat bow. His wings were spread out all around him as he stood back up, and his face shone with a soft pearly light, and Harry supposed he was beautiful. But with the way he looked now, he was also terrifying.

            “It’s a Veela’s right and duty and desire to repair damage to their mates,” Draco whispered. “That means that I have to get revenge on the people who thought leaving a wizarding child to the custody of Muggles was a good idea.”

            Harry shuddered a little. He was glad now that he hadn’t mentioned in more detail the kind of “damage” the Dursleys had inflicted on him. God knew what Draco would have felt justified in doing to them if he had.

            “They’re all dead,” he said. “Dumbledore was the main one. And maybe you could say Sirius was, too, if the way he gave me to Hagrid was any indication. But I know both Professor McGonagall and Hagrid objected to leaving me with Muggles. Both Sirius and Dumbledore are dead. There’s no one for you to blame.”

            Draco smiled again and extended a wing to touch Harry’s cheek. “You’re sweet,” he said. “And incredibly forgiving. But there’s always someone to find and blame.”

            “No,” said Harry. “Can’t you understand that I don’t want you to? It wasn’t a crime. Dumbledore thought he was doing the right thing.”

            “Do you think that?” Draco moved towards him, wings flaring out for a moment in a way that blocked the sight of everyone else in the corridor from Harry. And they were starting to attract an audience. He wondered if Draco cared about that.

            “I think he was doing what he thought was right.” Draco’s face still had this tender, triumphant smile that was beginning to make Harry more nervous than anything else he could have done. He clenched his teeth into each other and pushed ahead. “I don’t think he was the perfectly benevolent person I grew up believing he was—”

            Draco leaned his head against Harry’s hand. His hair was as soft as feathers. “I know you don’t, dear one.”

            “But,” Harry continued, and tried to sound as hard and unforgiving as Testig had told him never to be with his mate, “I also think that Dumbledore did what he thought was best, and made some pretty large sacrifices himself. He used people hard, but he also used himself. And leaving me in the Muggle world was a way to protect me.”

            “He’s dead now, and I can’t touch him.”

            Harry nodded, starting to be relieved at the tone in Draco’s voice, that he saw sense and wouldn’t blame Dumbledore anymore.

            “But there are others I can touch.” Draco leaned towards him with a smile of such breathtaking sweetness that Harry’s head spun, and kissed him. Harry gasped as the warmth seemed to burn down his throat like Firewhisky. Draco drew back and shook his head.

            “For example,” he said, and his voice was still soft and gentle and he sounded almost like Luna Lovegood, “did you really think you could hide from me that your Muggle relatives abused you?”

            Harry stared at him. There had been rumors, he knew, and maybe some of his reactions weren’t what they should be, but— “If this is another facet of your bizarre claim that wizards shouldn’t grow up in Muggle families…”

            “No,” said Draco. “I can tell because of your scars. You aren’t always careful about hiding them, especially when someone is as close to you as I am.” He pushed up Harry’s sleeve and kissed a scar near his wrist that Harry had frankly forgotten about. “They could have abused you so much they killed you. Or you lost your magic in an effort to please them and fit in and be normal. Either way would have lost me my mate. I find that unacceptable.” He lifted his head and rubbed Harry’s cheek with his. “I do hope that they have good defenses. That’ll make it more entertaining.”

            He unfolded his wings and sprang into the air. Harry promptly flew after him.

            But Draco was faster, and he smiled over his shoulder and flew straight out a door that gave onto an open portico of the school. In seconds, he was in the blue sky and fast-disappearing.

            Harry cursed breathlessly and drew his wand. Hovering awkwardly—he could almost hear Professor Helios telling him off for poor form and straining his muscles—he cast a Tracking Charm after Draco, and thought he felt it stick.

            Sure enough, a second later a steady beat began in his mind, linking him to Draco’s pulse. Harry couldn’t see him anymore, but he could feel him, and he had a direction. He spread his wings to fly higher.

            “Get back down here, young man!”

            Harry peered over his shoulder. Professor Grunnell was frowning at him, and behind her stood Testig and Stone.

            Harry only shook his head. “I have to stop him!” he yelled down. “He’s going to kill someone he thinks hurt me!”

            “He can’t be prosecuted for that under wizarding law!” Testig yelled back.

            Harry stared at her. Then he turned his back on the whole mad school and flew on.

            As if that’s the only thing that matters. Or even the thing that matters.

            I don’t think I’m ever going to fit in with other Veela.

*

            SP777: Well, according to Harry, he already can. Just not in the proper way.
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Fairest Creatures