Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Veela-Struck	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 52830 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this writing.

Chapter List
- 1-Veela-Struck
- 2-Changed
- 3-Thought-Through
- 4-Met
- 5-Challenged
- 6-Snapped
- 7-Struggled
- 8-Lost
- 9-Dazed
- 10-Worried
- 11-Shamed
- 12-Hidden
- 13-Dazzled
- 14-Astounded
- 15-Marked
- 16-Damaged
- 17-Chosen
- 18-Shuddered
- 19-Broken
- 20-Spoken
- 21-Influenced
- 22-Gifted
- 23-Promised
- 24-Distressed
- 25-Held
- 26-Tempted
- 27-Warded
- 28-Rumored
- 29-Fought
- 30-Flayed
- 31-Identified
- 32-Practiced
- 33-Enchanted
- 34-Blazed
- 16
- 17
- 18
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Seventeen—Chosen

            Draco’s world was ending.

            Not literally, of course. But it felt that way, as if the floor were tilting beneath his feet and the ceiling ready to crack and fall in.

            He couldn’t meet the accusation in Harry’s harsh gaze. He turned his eyes to the floor and wiped at his mouth. Then he did it again. His body was twitching and flexing; at one moment his nails started to form into claws and then turned back, and his shoulders rippled as if they would give way to wings, but didn’t. His instincts dashed back and forth in conflict with each other, not knowing where to turn.

            I must—I must—

            He must do something, but he didn’t know what.

            He lifted his head at last. Harry still waited, and Draco tried to find some hope in the fact that he hadn’t simply walked away. Harry would listen to an answer if he could find the words to frame one, Draco was sure.

            The problem was finding those words.

            “I never meant for this to happen,” Draco said at last, which was the only thing he could say that would make any kind of sense. He had thought Pansy’s friends would take more time to find Laurent, and indeed, they were running into problems. He hadn’t thought Pansy would contact him with a report while Harry was here. He had thought Harry was drowsing, not listening in on private conversations.

            The expression on Harry’s face, however, killed any objection Draco might have made on that score long before he made it. He had known Harry would hate what he was doing if he ever found out, and he had still encouraged Pansy to make the search and decided to help her do so. Draco swallowed and shuffled his foot in place, watching it intently.

            “You knew how I felt about Laurent,” Harry said, voice so low that it seemed to rise out of the floor to Draco’s ears. “I told you that I would prefer he survived because his survival meant I had some control, that he hadn’t made me into a monster by raping me. And you did this anyway.”

            “I’m sorry,” Draco whispered. That was the only defense he could offer. If he tried to talk about the Veela instincts and how badly he wanted to see Harry safe, he had the feeling that Harry wouldn’t understand.

            “No more than that?” Harry asked. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

            Draco licked his lips and looked up into Harry’s eyes. Panic twisted through his middle when he saw how merciless they were. He had to explain, he realized, or try, because being in danger of losing Harry forced him to. As he had fought for the chance to date Harry when he was confronted with the specter of rape, he would fight for this. If he lost, then at least it wouldn’t be due to his own indifference.

            “I want to punish Laurent so badly,” Draco whispered. “As long as he was still alive, he was a danger to you. What if the Wizengamot reconsidered his sentence and released him early? What if he managed to break free? Veela are capable of feats like that, sometimes, if their chosen is in danger. What if someone else broke him free because they found out the connection between him and you and decided to use him as a weapon against you? I could imagine all sorts of scenarios. I want him dead.” He dared to hold Harry’s eyes as he spoke the last sentence. “So I gave Pansy the information to pass along about Laurent’s last name and relationship to a certain family. And I know that you didn’t want to kill him, but I thought you might not mind so much if someone else did it.”

            Harry was motionless for long moments. Then he said, “I think of scenarios like that, too, Draco. In my nightmares. I can accept how unlikely they are to happen when I’m awake, and after a few moments of wrestling with them, I put them aside and go on with my life.”

            “I just want to end your nightmares,” Draco whispered. “To see you whole. That’s all I’ve wanted for these last few months.”

            Harry shuddered, for some reason, and his gaze focused on the wall behind Draco. “Months,” he muttered. “Yes, the months are passing, aren’t they? It’ll be March soon.”

            Draco licked his lips. “You’re thinking of the Blazing Season,” he said. “I swear, Harry, I’ll leave you alone then.”

            Harry looked back at him coldly. “Why should I think so? I already told you clearly that I wanted you not to seek out Laurent, that I didn’t want to see him again or think about him. You thought you knew better than me, and so you interfered. What will keep you from doing the same thing with the Blazing Season?”

            Draco whined under his breath. He was wounded. He was bleeding internally. Or at least it felt like that. For his chosen to make a declaration of distrust in him this open hurt. Once again, he tried to repair it.

            “I promise,” he said fervently. “From now on, you can trust me, Harry. It doesn’t matter what the temptation is, I won’t listen to it, and I’ll tell you the moment I feel as if I might hurt you. I promise—”

            Harry shook his head.

            Something about that weary gesture, as if this was the end of the line and not even worth fighting for anymore, sparked Draco’s anger. He narrowed his eyes and snarled, “It’s not as though you’ve been completely honest with me, either!”

            “No, I haven’t,” Harry said, and his eyes were deep and his voice solemn. “I was investigating a case on my own, outside the Auror Department, that might have led to me getting hurt or killed. I reckon you wouldn’t like that.”

            “See?” Draco stepped closer. The gesture would have been more impressive if he could have had his wings billowing around him, but that would be counterproductive, so he kept them tucked beneath the surface of his skin. “That would hurt me as much as my trying to find Laurent hurt you—”

            “I doubt that,” Harry said, and his voice was a low hiss. His eyes had darkened until he looked as inhuman as some Veela that Draco had seen during the Blazing Season. Then a shudder ran through the walls, and they shook as if they might fall in. “Oh, I doubt it.”

            Draco took a step back, his hands raised. “Harry,” he said. “you know me. You don’t need to kill me with your magic.”

            Harry smiled, and the smile was as bitter as his voice. “Why is it that you think I’m about to kill you when I’m angry, but I’m not allowed to fear you when you are?”

            Draco wanted to answer that accusation in a number of ways, but Harry wasn’t finished. “I am done with Laurent. I don’t want anyone to seek him out. I don’t want anyone to hunt him down. What were you thinking would happen, Draco? That Pansy and her friends would free Laurent, and that would mean he could hunt me, and that would mean you could kill him? What about me in all this? Did you care about what I would feel when I received the notice that he was free?”

            Draco shook his head. He was struggling with so many feelings that he wasn’t sure what words would emerge from his mouth first, but he was sure that they would be the wrong ones no matter what he said, so he might as well say them and get the first hurt over with. “I think you need to face him and know that he’s dead, Harry. You need the control that comes with putting him down.”

            Harry’s eyes turned black.

            A heavy force slammed Draco to the ground and sat on his back. Draco groaned and rolled over, attempting to rise. The force moved with him, letting him roll but not letting him stand. Draco stared at air—he knew there was nothing present—but he still felt the weight and heard something growl right beside his ear.

            “Understand me,” Harry whispered. “I could have destroyed Laurent—I nearly did—because he attempted to make decisions for me and change the direction my life was taking. I’ll do the same thing for you, Draco, if you try to control me, if you try to dictate what I should do, and if you think you know me better than I know myself. You wanted to free someone who raped me. Do you know what that means?”

            Draco licked his lips, and tasted salt and blood on them. There was no way forwards from here that he could see, nothing that he could do to make up to Harry what had happened.

            Except that there had to be. And what he did, the way he was helping Harry heal, was never about making up for what had happened, but all about making sure that he could live in the future, if not now.

            Draco kept himself calm, or forced himself back to it, despite the fact that now his wings were trapped and Harry’s magic was still breathing into his ear. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I never meant for it to turn out like this.”

            Harry grunted, and the pressure eased enough that Draco could sit up, though Draco could feel a claw rolling idly along the line of his shoulder now. “Explain what you meant, then,” Harry said. “Tell me why you thought this was a good idea.”

            Draco turned to look at him. Difficult, but not impossible, he noted, which meant Harry’s control over his magic was even firmer than he thought it was. Impressive. Part of him reached out longing hands, because to be close to that much power was part of what he had admired and adored about Harry from the beginning.

            But he had to concentrate on the man in front of him right now, the man who stood with his arms folded and his eyes too dark and was partially right about Draco and his motivations and partially wrong. Draco would have to soothe him, or he stood a high chance of being exiled from his presence.

            And as threatening as that presence was sometimes, it was still the presence of his chosen. Draco could not forget that.

            “I remember thinking that you would disapprove,” Draco admitted. “I hesitated a long time before I gave information about Laurent’s family to Pansy. When she named Laurent, I thought about saying that I couldn’t help her.”

            “Why didn’t you?” Harry might have been making idle conversation, from the tone of his voice, but the claw ground down into Draco. In this case, Draco was inclined to trust the state of the magic more than Harry’s words.

            “Because I let my own desires overpower me,” Draco whispered. “I wanted you healed, yes, but I think I was seeking an easier way to do it than actually going through the slow process of teaching you to trust me. If I could make you face your fears in one fell swoop, then who knew what might happen? I was careless and thoughtless, Harry, and I’m sorry.” He leaned back against the pressure of the magic, and as he had thought, it let him move it, though it tightened again a moment later. “But while it might lessen your trust in me, I don’t think that it should make you abandon me completely. At the very least, you know what my motivations were.” He held Harry’s gaze and took a chance. “You know that I’m in love with you.”

*

            The words passed through Harry like a cold wind. He sagged back, only to realize there was no wall there and he’d been trying to catch himself against thin air. He stuck out an arm, which luckily did hit the wall and prevent him from falling to the floor.

            He was so tired. It seemed that every moment since he had agreed to let Draco into his life was only another challenge, another chance for his memories to ambush him or for Draco to make some movement that would probably destroy his trust altogether.

            Or for Harry to take a risk that had felt increasingly frantic, as if he had to reach the end of building up trust in Draco before a deadline came to pass.

            Only a moment of thought let him realize what deadline he’d been trying to beat.

            The Blazing Season.

            Harry shook his head. Had he really thought that he could become comfortable enough to be with Draco before then? But nothing else made sense. He had kissed Draco when he hadn’t had to. He had let Draco touch him as a gift for Draco, he had thought at the time, but he could have done something less drastic, something less frightening for himself. Instead, he had acted as though Draco really would die, the way that some books about the Veela claimed he would, if he didn’t get enough of his chosen’s touch, and he had set aside his tension and tried to pretend afterwards that everything was comfortable.

            Except that it wasn’t. He still hadn’t talked to Draco about the arousal he felt that first night Draco touched him extensively, and he hadn’t explained about the way he’d been forcing himself to continue during the kiss.

            And now…

            Now Draco had handed Harry what should have been a gift, the thing he had hoped to hear from several men he had dated before Laurent, and it was like being given a mixed handful of thorns and knives.

            Not to mention Draco’s betrayal in the matter of Laurent.

            Harry would have liked to go cast his magic at the walls of his quiet room until he was wearied, but that wouldn’t solve the problems; it would just make him sleep more deeply before he faced them. So he clenched one hand into a fist, concentrated on the beat of blood in his ears until he was calmer, and then faced Draco and gestured. His magic withdrew, spiraling lazily along the walls and into his body. Harry watched as Draco rose to his feet, his eyes dropping first to check the wound in Harry’s leg.

            Strange that he can be so worried about my physical health and yet cause wounds to my mind, Harry thought with a sigh.

            “I don’t know what to do,” he told Draco directly, quietly. “Walking away isn’t an option, because of the pain it would cause you.”

            “What about the pain that it would cause you?” Draco asked the question in a yearning voice, straining forwards as though he stood behind an invisible barrier that parted them.

            At least he has the sense to see that the barrier is there. Harry rubbed the corners of his eyes up and down comprehensively, in the hope that that would give him better answers. It didn’t, but made yellow stars explode in the corners of his vision. He watched them until they faded, and then answered the question.

            “That would be less than the pain you’re causing me right now.”

            Draco flinched, head hanging as he hunched in on himself. And that made Harry feel bad, again, and long to move forwards and comfort him, if only so he would stop looking like that.

            No.

            It was hard to think, but Harry tore himself away from the impulse to smile and say he forgave everything now, all so that Draco would feel better. For one thing, this insult and attempt to control him was just too deep for that. For another, it wouldn’t make things right in the end, not if Draco demanded some genuine emotion from him and Harry was only able to respond with a counterfeit that he had made up for Draco’s sake.

            That’s what I have to do, he thought. He said it himself, earlier. I have to stop thinking of all the people who could be hurt by what I do and do things for myself, too, because they make me happy or because they’ll protect me.

            And it was hard, again, and tiring, again. But if Harry had loved relaxation that much, he wouldn’t have chosen to become an Auror. Besides, there was no one he could simply let go of his control with. Ron and Hermione would both want to know why, and Harry didn’t feel like explaining. Not right now. That Draco knew about it was enough.

            “Here’s what we’re going to do about this,” he told Draco. Draco promptly snapped to attention, his lips quivering and his head eagerly nodding, and Harry felt a stab of pity. Doesn’t he hate that I can affect him like that?

            But maybe it was different for a Veela. Harry thought more sternly about the things that mattered right now; he wouldn’t tolerate irrelevant thoughts. “I’ll stay here until my wound heals fully and we’re sure the Repeating Hex isn’t coming back.”

            “Thank you, Harry,” Draco said, the words seeming to twist out of his mouth despite himself. His eyes shone as if he had a fever.

            God. Harry shuddered. How can someone endure to be that dependent on someone else? And how am I going to stay stern with him when I’ll be wanting to give in just so that he can have some of his pride back?

            Well, if he kept to his plan and did his best, then maybe they would end up depending on each other just enough in the future—or maybe Draco would get tired of Harry, finally drop him, and find someone more amenable to be his chosen.

            “Then I’m going to go home,” Harry said. “I want you to write a letter to Parkinson, explaining that your information about Laurent was false. I don’t care what you have to say, whether you’ll say that you were playing a joke on her or something else. But I want to see the letter before you send it, and it had better be acceptable.”

            Draco nodded, his expression rapt. Harry stared at him and wondered why, then knew. I’m letting him do something for me. And that’s all he wants.

            “And then,” Harry said, “I’d like some time alone to figure things out. Ron can report on what’s happening to you, if he’ll do it, but I don’t want to see or speak directly to you for two days.”

            Draco reached out in spite of himself, then withdrew his hand when Harry stared at him. “You’re that angry,” he said. His voice was subdued.

            Harry snorted and looked at one of the pictures that had fallen off the wall. Draco had a nicer house than he would have suspected, with more decorations but not as much grandeur as Harry had seen at Malfoy Manor. “Yes, of course I am. This is the biggest fear of my life, and you mocked the knowledge I gave you—the knowledge I entrusted you with because I thought you deserved to know about it if you really were going to try and date me.” He could feel the anger moving again through him, slow, deep, as he spoke. Then he shook his head and decided that the stricken look on Draco’s face was reason enough to stop mentioning it for right now. “If I have to spend that much time in your presence over the next few days, I’ll think more about your expression rather than getting over the anger.”

            “My expression?” Draco’s eyes crossed as if he would try to look at his own face without the benefit of a mirror.

            Harry nodded. “You look guilty, or tragic, or as if you can only survive on my approval. It tempts me forgive you sooner than I should.” He paused, and then added, because he was truly curious, “Doesn’t that bother you?”

            “Doesn’t what bother me?” Draco was studying Harry now in an apparent attempt to store up memories against the time when he wouldn’t be able to see him.

            “Being so dependent on me,” Harry said. “Caring so much about my slightest word. You didn’t defend yourself much before you gave in and admitted that you were wrong, even though you really believed that you were acting for the best motives.” Even though I told you over and over again that Laurent can rot, and I don’t want to see him again under any circumstances. “Why? I just—I would hate that, to feel as though I were incomplete except when someone was paying attention to me.”

            Draco’s spine straightened and some of the fire came back into his eyes, to Harry’s pleasure. “What?” Draco demanded. “Do you really think that I feel that way?”

            “Your expression says so,” Harry said. “And I don’t want to be responsible for hurting you, Draco, but I’m not going to let you get away with manipulating me because you look at me with large eyes, either. And I’d like the man I date to have some pride.”

            “I do,” Draco said. “And if it would please you to see me acting more proud, then I can do that. I can certainly do that.” His voice deepened. Harry thought he probably would have received a haughty insult at that point if he had been anyone else and had any other relationship with Draco.

            “That’s the problem,” Harry said. “I want you to do it of your own free will, because your pride is important to you, the same way you want me to touch and kiss you because I really desire you. It’s no good if you’re doing it because that’s what I’d like. I don’t want you draped over me like a wet rag.”

            “It’s not that way,” Draco said, seeming to try several different expressions before he settled on an earnest one. “For a Veela, it’s really not.”

            “Then explain to me what it’s like.” Harry rested one hip on the wall and waited. He was getting a bit tired, but he wouldn’t go back to bed now, not when it would change the subject of the conversation from Draco’s pride to his health.

*

            At least his wound isn’t opening again. Draco’s keen eyes had noted his chosen’s tiredness, but that didn’t matter. This was more important, and he would herd Harry back into bed once he had finished it.

            “For me,” Draco said, and searched for words to express the deepest truth of his soul, the one he had broken up with Pansy before he had a need to explain, “it’s like sex.” Harry raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what wasn’t around a Veela, and Draco hastened to explain. “Yes, maybe something outside your pure free will forces you into having the sex. Maybe it’s partially obligation, maybe it’s desires that are roused by another person’s actions, maybe it’s just sheer randiness.” Harry smiled at that. “But once the sex begins, most people don’t find it a tiresome chore. It’s a pleasure for its own sake. And it’s a pleasure to me to tend to you, to be with you, to do what you ask, to—have you trust me.” He finished the last words in a tiny whisper.

            Harry raised another cool eyebrow, and said, “Well, you did mess up on that one, didn’t you?”

            Draco nodded, eyes on the floor.

            Harry sighed. “Well. Will you accept the terms I gave you?”

            “Yes.” Because he had to, because his desire was prodding him like a sore tooth, Draco added, “What will happen when the two days are up?”

            “We’ll see,” Harry said, as infuriating as always, and then turned to walk back to his bed. Draco hastened forwards, but Harry froze him in place with a single glance and limped back down the corridor by himself.

            Draco followed tamely, sating his pain with the sight of Harry’s back and the truth sounding over and over again in his thoughts like a trumpet. He’s not going to leave me. He’s not.

*

            mrequecky: He did, not that Harry was completely interested in them. Draco having anything to do with Laurent at all was what he was more upset about.

            polka dot: Draco might not have gotten away with it if it turned out Laurent was freed, but it was just bad luck that Harry heard about it from Pansy.

            SpiritOfBeyond: Good luck on your exams.

            Lady_of_Clunn: I promise this is being straightened out, though it does mean a step back when they might have continued going forwards.

            Soria: Yes, he did.

            SP777: Yes, Draco asked a lot of good questions. Let’s hope that Harry thinks about them now that he’s also thinking about Draco possibly trying to free Laurent.

            I do understand your reference, though I don’t think Harry is really Ricky. ;)

            I have thought about it. When I’ll get the time to write it is another question.

            Night the Storyteller: Harry mostly convinced himself.

            luvlustblood: Thank you!

            Sneakyfox: Yes, and still not completely out of it.

            lin sane: It’s not so much the search Harry fears as the idea that they would find out what had happened between him and Laurent, and they wouldn’t have a reason to keep quiet about it the way that Harry’s superiors do.

            Those are potentially interesting storylines, though I would have to do some research before I wrote either one of them.
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