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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.

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Chapter Thirteen—Winning the Day

            “Draco! Draco, come back.”

            Harry called for as long as he could see the small silvery shape ahead of him in the sky, and then he gave up and sighed, disgusted. At least the Tracking Charm would guide him. But he wanted to make some preparations before he tried to get caught up.

            For example, his wings ached. He could at least land and Apparate to his office at the Ministry, the location of one of the things he thought he would need most sorely.

            Sore. Harry wished he hadn’t thought that word. His chest and upper back throbbed as he landed in the middle of a field heavy with grass, took one look around to make sure there were no Muggles nearby, and Apparated to the Ministry entrance.

            Only when he was striding through the corridors with people staring at him did it occur to Harry that he was Harry Potter, winged, and currently walking around with huge, jagged holes in the back of his robes. He had modified the robes when he started flying more regularly, ensuring he could beat his wings gently and not rip them further.

            But he hadn’t been beating his wings gently. When he got into his office and conjured a mirror to look behind him, Harry had to groan at how much of his skin was revealed.

            Shit. But it’s going to be worse publicity if Draco murders the Dursleys. I’ll tell that to anyone who asks.

            He dug into the bottom of his desk, swearing softly as he set aside forgotten files, the tin of lemon drops he had one of on each of Dumbledore’s birthdays, a phoenix feather that had come from Voldemort knew where, a key that opened a lock he didn’t want to think about, and more parchment, quills, inkwells, and memos than he knew could exist in such a small space. Where was the bloody thing?

            “Mate? I thought you couldn’t leave the school?”

            Harry waved a placating hand at Ron. He was still digging. He knew he would find it sooner or later. After all, he had alarm spells that would have told him at any distance if it had been moved—

            “Ah-ha!” he exclaimed, and stood up with the small, flat box in his hand. Harry quickly enlarged the bloody thing and then opened it. Inside lay the net of woven silver mesh he had “gained” on a case that had involved a Dark wizard with a penchant for kidnapping. Harry drew it out and felt the magic purring dangerously along the threads. At least he didn’t need to worry if it still worked.

            “I thought you had to stay at the school,” Ron said, and stuck his face into Harry’s. “And why do you want that net? Why is there a mirror?”

            “I need to capture Malfoy,” Harry said absently, wrapping the net around his arm. For a moment, the weave flexed as if it thought about seizing him, but he wasn’t fighting and it subsided. “And I needed to see how much damage I’d done to my robes flying around like I was.”

            “What’s Malfoy done now? Can I help you? Is it something especially bad? Is it murder? No, you would have come stomping in here and got some other weapon if it was murder. I think.”

            Harry had to laugh. “No. Malfoy’s my mate, according to Veela magic and the laws of the school. But he took it into his head that the Dursleys had escaped justice for too long, so he flew away to find them and kill them. I want to stop him.”

            Ron stared at him in silence. Then he said, “There’s a world in which this all makes sense. I don’t think it’s this one.”

            Harry sighed. He had been too busy in the last few days to write or Floo, or at least he’d told himself that. He probably should have made the time. “Sorry, Ron. But Malfoy is my mate according to Veela magic.”

            “The Veela magic needs to have its head examined.”

            “It doesn’t have a head, or I would have suggested that.” Harry shook himself. The longer he stood here talking, the further away—and presumably closer to the Dursleys—Draco got. “But I want to capture him without breaking his wings or anything. He’s already had one broken wing. And I didn’t even hurt him when we fell off a cliff. I don’t want to shatter that record now.”

            Ron trailed plaintively after him as he opened the door. “But why didn’t you let him fall? Then you wouldn’t have the worry, and the world wouldn’t have to endure any more Malfoys. And the Dursleys would be safe,” he added in an obvious afterthought.

            Harry snapped back around before he could stop himself, his wings out to touch either side of the doorway. Ron paused and looked at him in mild alarm.

            “Look,” Harry said in a low voice, “I don’t want Malfoy—Draco to die.” If he wanted his friends to believe that Draco was really his mate, then he should probably get used to referring to him by his first name in front of them. “It’s been crazy, and I should have written to you or tried to Floo you or—something. But I’ve been learning to control my allure and that I can fly with my wings and how to fight off crazed Veela—”

            “If they’ve been fighting you, then we should get you out of there,” said Ron, his face hardening at once.

            Harry had to smile. That was Ron, ever the loyal friend, picking that one fact out of what else Harry had said. But he shook his head. “It happened because I couldn’t control my allure. With Draco’s help, I’ve been doing that a lot better at that.”

            “Oh, right. You want to find him because he can help you. As well as to keep the Dursleys safe.” Ron shrugged. “Why didn’t you say so?”

            Harry sighed. “No. Draco’s also important to me for himself, although it’s sometimes a struggle to—”

            His head snapped around abruptly, and his eyes widened. The charm he had cast on Draco was filling his ears with a cascade of loud sound, which meant that Draco’s heart was beating wildly. He was probably in the midst of a battle or—

            Actually attacking the Dursleys right now.

            Harry swore and half-flew towards the door and the way he would need to take. “I’ll explain it to you later!” he yelled at Ron over his shoulder.

            “That had better be a hell of an explanation!” Ron yelled back. “I’ll be waiting!”

            Harry would have liked to look back and smile, but he didn’t have the time to do even that. He was flying steadily down the corridor, because it cleared the way when people heard enormous wings beating and he didn’t have the time to wait around for people to decide on their own that it was worth ducking away from him. He soared around a dizzy turn and ducked into a lift that was just opening, hitting the buttons frantically to make it rise back to the level of the entrance he’d come in by.

            On his arm and shoulder, the net hissed and danced.

*

            Once he was out of the Ministry, Harry Apparated towards the charm’s beat, flickering across the countryside. He could only hope that he didn’t appear in front of too many Muggles, but considering how briefly he was in each room or meadow or street or entrance, he didn’t think so. He was there and then gone.

            And then he was there, in front of a bland little house on a bland little street that Harry would have picked out as the home of the Dursleys if he knew about it, although he would have been hard put to it to name which one was which. They all looked alike, the way the houses on Privet Drive had. Exactly the kind of place Vernon and Petunia would find soothing after a time being spent guarded by “freaks.”

            Only it didn’t seem like it would be soothing when it had Draco pelting it as hard as he could with balls of fire. The fire had already set the front garden alight, and one of the windowframes, although the house itself was made of brick and couldn’t start smoldering. Harry could hear the shrieks of Aunt Petunia’s distinctive voice as she rushed back and forth inside. Once she opened the back door, but Draco rained more fireballs at her, and it slammed shut again.

            Dudley didn’t seem to be here, from the lack of “Duddykins!” that Harry heard in Uncle Vernon’s roars or Aunt Petunia’s screams. At least that was a small mercy.

            “Draco,” Harry called, taking the net from his shoulder and unfurling it. Hovering under Professor Helios’s tutelage had always seemed impossible, but when it was to stop his crazed mate, it became second nature to him. The net rattled and spread out so it was draped over his arms. “Back off! I don’t want them harmed. Even if they have to be punished, it’s up to me to do it.”

            “Yes, but you never will,” Draco said, and smiled over his shoulder, a smile of such devastating beauty that Harry fell silent in wonder. Perhaps this was why no Muggle emergency services had appeared yet, because the neighbors had seen that smile and been charmed in spite of themselves. “That means it’s up to me.” He held his hand high, and a bright spark cut across it.

            Harry shook his head to get rid of his daze and flung the net before Draco’s reasoning could convince him instead.

            The net unfolded busily around Draco’s back and wings, tangling them at once. Draco shrieked and beat his wings, but the net was already curling tight, making him plunge towards the ground. Harry had drawn his wand, though, and cast a Feather-Light Charm that made Draco start dropping like one. Then he flew down beside him.

            “I demand you release me at once,” Draco said, his voice haughty even when a mesh of the net crept around his face so he couldn’t cast spells. The net didn’t seem to react as well to just ordinary speech.

            “No.”

            “I’m defending your honor.”

            “No, you’re not.” Harry landed in the street a moment before Draco did, and shook his head as he watched Draco struggle madly against the weaves of the net. “If I say that this isn’t honorable, then it’s not.”

            Draco paused as if he had to think about that. Harry hoped it was the kind of crazy Veela logic that would appeal to him.

            But then Draco shook his head and refocused, with a burn in his eyes that made Harry want to stomp his foot. “You would never agree that it was honorable, any way I asked that question. That means I have to ignore your opinion and do what I want.”

            He tried to flex his wings, but the net had tangled them too closely. Draco hissed in surprise and tried to lift the meshes to examine them. He couldn’t, though. The net had also bound his arms at his sides.

            “Have you listened to what you’re saying?” Harry asked, as calmly as he could. “What you want. You haven’t decided, one way or the other, that this answers Veela honor. You haven’t told me how it could. You just went ahead and attacked them because you wanted to.”

            “Desire is part of what makes Veela Veela. And possessive, protective love for their mates,” Draco added, nodding as if he was reading from a printed sign in front of him.

            Harry didn’t sigh. It was a miracle of self-control. He stepped forwards and bent down until his face was right in front of Draco’s. Draco looked at him instead of towards the Dursley house, which Harry hoped was all to the good.

            “I wouldn’t think it was a sign of love,” Harry said quietly. “And even in Veela history, there are different motivations. You saw that when we questioned Professor Stone. We got her to admit that. And you haven’t had years of being a Veela like she has. Why did you really come here? Not just mindless instinct. Why?”

            Draco avoided his eyes. Harry nodded. He had known Draco wasn’t that ruled by instinct. Something else was going on here, and he intended to find out what. He rested his elbow against the net and raised a Disillusionment Charm around them. Muggles were running out of their houses now and pouring pails of water over the flames that still smoldered in the Dursleys’ garden. Harry knew they would have to move soon, but right now that would give Draco another excuse to stay silent.

            Draco was quiet. Harry felt his shoulders tense, making the feathers along the outer edges of his wings ruffle, but he still didn’t move. They might have limited time.

            But he and Draco would also have limited time as mates if Harry couldn’t get a real answer out of him.

            “I want you to like me.”

            Draco whispered the words so softly that Harry could hardly hear them. He leaned forwards and asked in the same tone of voice, “What?”

            “I want you to like me.” Draco turned towards him, wings flapping slightly. The meshes of the net had relaxed with his lack of offensive magic, one reason Harry had wanted to bring this weapon. If Draco was going to be reasonable, then Harry didn’t want to constrict him. “Not just tolerate me or look at me with the amused smile you do when I start talking about what mates need from each other.”

            “We’re courting—”

            “No courtship gifts have manifested yet. And you’re always talking about how you don’t like these things that Veela do, or you do things differently, and the end of the month will be here before you know it. What will happen if I haven’t convinced you to stay with me permanently by the end of it?”

            Draco huddled there with his wings mostly free now within the loose coils of the net, but drooping. Harry ignored the Muggle hoses and cars and police around them; none of them had decided to come into the garden of the neighboring house where they stood yet.

            “I don’t know what it takes to win my heart,” Harry said. “It’s not something I’ve had to think about before.”

            “What it takes to make you into a true Veela,” Draco said.

            “No,” Harry said calmly. “I know you don’t want that most of all. You want me to like you, you said.” He waved his hand at the Dursleys’ house. “Well, killing them wouldn’t have made me like you.”

            Draco turned his head and cupped a wing around his ear like a hand. Then he hissed. “Do you hear what your aunt is telling those people about you?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.

            “I can imagine,” Harry said, without turning around.

            “No, you can’t—”

            “Something something freaks, something something normal life, we were interrupted while watching the telly, my horrible nephew something, incoherent mutter not safe in our own homes, why don’t they arrest those people and get them out of the country, mutter.”

            Draco stared at him. “You know them? And you can stand there and bargain for their lives?”

            “I can,” Harry said. “They don’t deserve to die for what they did to me.”

            “Yes, they do.”

            Draco abruptly had a beak. His voice had turned hollow and demanding, and he was leaning forwards against the net in a way that made Harry start. Draco might actually be able to chew through the net, looking like that. Harry hadn’t counted on a full transformation. However, the net had shifted to tighten around him again at the use of magic, so at least Harry would have some warning.

            “You deserve to be protected and cherished like anyone else,” Draco whispered fiercely. “Like everyone else.”

            “No,” Harry said slowly, staring at Draco’s face. “Not like everyone. I don’t think you would ever feel this level of commitment for anyone else.”

            Draco paused, and the beak turned back into light and melted. He held out a shaking, clawed hand, and Harry grasped and held it, lightly kissing the knuckles.

            “So what’s needed to win your heart…”

            “Isn’t someone killing for me,” Harry said, smiling at him. “It’s knowing that someone would.”

            “You make no sense,” Draco said, but his voice was full of awe instead of fury. Harry reckoned that was a start.

            “I do,” Harry countered. “What matters to me is what you feel. Your reasons, your motivations, as well as what you do. And having the right to have a say in what you do. At least if it involves me,” he added, with a nod towards the Dursleys. “I wouldn’t try to interfere with your family or your potions or whatever else you want to do if it didn’t involve me in some way. If it does, I like to have a say.”

            Draco abruptly pulled his hand back. Harry eyed him in concern. He supposed his words had offended Draco again, but he honestly wasn’t sure how.

            But then Draco lowered his cupped hands in front of them, staring into them. Harry looked.

            There was a small circle of silvery, shimmering metal there, which looked almost like a mirror without a frame. Draco hadn’t conjured it, that Harry knew. In fact, the net had turned loose and slithering again, the way it wouldn’t have if there was any magic around.

            But Draco lifted the metal and offered it to him in silent awe.

            Harry took it through the net and turned it around. The edge didn’t slice his fingers, the way he’d half-expected. Instead, he saw his face.

            Only not his face. His face with a shimmering aura around it and a confident expression Harry didn’t think he’d ever worn and a fire in his green eyes that made them blaze and catch the light like a tiger’s.

            “It’s a mirror,” Draco said softly. “Manifested from magic. The way I see you.” He paused. “Your first courting gift.”

            Harry dipped his wings and crooned before he thought about it. In the same moment, the net slid off Draco and dropped to the ground. It could sense when hostile intent was wholly absent, and it wouldn’t hold someone innocent.

            Draco stepped forwards. Harry leaned in to kiss him, and only barely remembered to lift his wand to tell the Ministry that they’d need Obliviators here. Although maybe not many, from the discussion he could hear behind them. Only Vernon and Petunia were insisting it was something unusual. The neighbors and police were already starting to credit a Muggle terrorist with an inventive weapon.

            Then Draco lifted his wings to flip them shut around Harry, and the words were cut off. In this silent, hazy, white-lit world, there was only the two of them.

*

            Jester: Harry was able to handle it the way he wanted to because Draco hadn’t yet hurt anyone. He’d have to do something very different if that wasn’t true.

            Skybee: Thank you!
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