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Temporary Mate	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 17288 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 16
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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Seventeen—Wonderful
This time, as they made their way back across the Atrium, they weren’t so lucky.
“Harry Potter?”
Harry stopped and sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. Draco stepped closer to him and tightened his wing until he thought Harry would stumble. Harry just moved with it, though, and shook his head a little at Draco as people started to crowd close to them.
“Are you going to be all right? They’re probably going to touch me, at least to shake my hand.”
“I can do it.” Draco narrowed his eyes at the nearest witch, and she at least paused and squeaked. “I can’t believe how much it’s changed, though. A fortnight ago, I would have thought that resigned expression you’re wearing was playing up to the masses, and that you really did enjoy your fame.”
“I wish,” Harry muttered. “It would make some things easier.”
He started talking to people and shaking hands the next minute. Draco watched him thoughtfully. Now he wondered how he could ever have still thought Harry was arrogant and an attention-seeker. The lines around his eyes were tight, not ones of laughter or smugness. He shook hands in a business-like manner, not rushing through it to get to the ones that would give him the most prestige, as Draco had supposed. And he kept up a smile that was visibly strained.
Well, I didn’t know anything then. Harry didn’t know me, either. Draco didn’t see much sense in blaming his past self for mistakes that he’d made for understandable reasons.
“And why does Malfoy have a wing over you like that?”
Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he heard the hiss rumbling in his chest. Harry must have heard it, too, because he leaned more heavily against Draco and used his free hand—the one the idiot wasn’t shaking—to reach up and gently fondle his wing. Draco found himself drooping his head and leaning more heavily on Harry in return. He could feel the soft smile against his cheek as Harry whispered, “Behave.”
“If they do.”
“I expect you to be better than them,” Harry said, and then turned back to the gaping man whose hand he was still holding. “Draco has a wing over my shoulder because he’s a Veela and I’m his mate,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
“There is no—there is no Veela heritage in the Malfoy family,” the man blustered.
Draco took a critical look at him. Not features he recognized, although he’d been detached enough from daily politics in the Ministry that that wasn’t surprising. This wizard was snub-nosed and sneering, brown-haired and probably brown-souled. “Of course there is,” Draco said. “We used a spell to survive when we would have died, and now I’m a Veela and Harry is my mate.” He slid an arm around Harry’s waist and tugged him firmly backwards, breaking the hold of the handshake. It had gone on long enough.
“Auror Potter, he’s lying.”
“I’ve also said it,” Harry said, and his voice was gentle and almost teasing and also pissed off. The one mistake Draco thought he might not be able to forgive his past self for was how stupid he’d always thought Harry was. “Does that mean I’m lying?”
“Auror Pot—I mean, of course not.” The man stepped back and gave them a stiff little bow. “Are you happy?”
“Of course I am. Why would I stay touching someone if I wasn’t?” And Harry gave his hand a slight wring, as if he’d been the one to decide to withdraw from the handclasp with the stupid wizard.
The man flushed, a darker red than Draco’s words had made him. Draco hid his chuckle in Harry’s hair. God, his mate was witty. It was a quality he’d always looked for in his bed-partners as a human. This was pretty good, too.
That wizard trudged away, humiliated, but others took their place. Witches who fluttered as if they thought simpering would attract Harry. Harry merely looked bored. Wizards who tried to insult Draco’s Malfoy heritage. Harry raised an eyebrow. People who wanted photographs. Harry permitted one, and firmly shook his head to all the rest, steering Draco towards the fireplaces near the far end of the Atrium.
I suppose he has to be firm to deal with the public that always wants to take his fucking picture. But Draco hadn’t realized how aroused that would make him. He was glad his chest was plastered to Harry’s back and no one could see. No one else but Harry deserved to see.
Harry tilted his head back towards him, but didn’t look away from the witch he was currently talking with, who had her hands clasped and her head bent forwards so her long hair tumbled around her face. Harry didn’t look at her hair at all, though. Draco would grow his hair long for Harry if he wanted.
He said as much to Harry, quietly, when they finally broke away from the crowd and went to the fireplace that would take them to Harry’s home. Draco had no desire to return to his cold flat at the moment, or the Manor. Introducing Harry to his parents could wait.
Harry smiled at him. “You don’t need to change. I love you the way you are.”
Several Ministry workers waiting in line to use the fireplaces turned around and gasped as they heard the words, probably because “love” had been in there, but Draco stared at them, and they found business elsewhere. Harry snorted.
“They believed they had a chance,” he said. “Them and everyone in wizarding Britain, I suppose.” He flung the powder into the fireplace. “Harry’s Nest!” he said clearly, and vanished into the flames.
Nest, that’s a good omen, Draco told himself, although perhaps he was only thinking that because the staring unnerved him. He followed Harry, and made sure to cast a glance over his shoulder as he went, so that no one else could sneak after them.
“Do you always say your Floo address in front of people like that?” he asked when he stumbled out into the middle of a neat drawing room, shaking soot from his wings. They’d got a bit banged up from the swift whirling.
“Oh, people can know the address,” Harry said, and waved his wand at the fireplace, murmuring another spell Draco had never heard of. As he watched, blinking, a net of magic flared to life over the logs, silver and gold. “Those are the wards they’ll run into headlong if they try to use it without permission.”
“What counts as permission?”
“Me being with them or already being here. I don’t let anyone use it alone.” Harry paused in the middle of taking off his cloak. “Well, I’d let you. But no one else.”
Draco opened his mouth, but what came out wasn’t words. It was a deep croon that had already been making the center of his chest vibrate. He licked his lips and moved forwards, reaching out to help Harry off with the cloak. And then the Auror robes. And then his shirt.
Harry dropped his head forwards. His breathing had gone soft and slow. Draco pressed two fingertips into the middle of his back and willed pleasure through them. Harry gasped and spun around to kiss him, reaching up to stroke his wings at the same time. Draco crooned again.
“You’ve done so much for me,” Draco murmured into his mouth, when they finally managed to part. “I couldn’t—I have no idea how to repay you. But let me make a try.” He knelt and nuzzled the front of Harry’s trousers.
Harry’s breathing sped up until he sounded as if he was at the point of pain. “It’s not about repayment,” he said. “But—please, Draco. Yes.”
Draco undressed him the rest of the way with gentle hands, and let his wings fan out and curl around the backs of Harry’s legs. Harry made a soft, startled noise, and balanced himself with one hand in the middle of Draco’s hair. Draco deliberately kissed his knees and then spread Harry’s legs with fingers and feathers both.
Harry was so easy to please. Even a bit of focused pleasure made him cough or gasp with excitement, and soon he was rocking his hips forwards into Draco’s mouth with no words at all, only strangled noises. Draco looked up once and managed to catch his gaze at the same moment as Harry let his eyelids flutter open and looked down.
Draco felt all his muscles tense up as he came, untouched, with nothing more than the burning mirror of Harry’s eyes fixed on him. He still managed to swallow when Harry came, though. Because that was something Veela did.
He will never want for anything, Draco promised himself as he helped Harry gently to the floor and scooped him up, with the aid of a Lightening Charm. Because he is the kind of person who would always make sure that I never wanted for anything.
They went to bed, or rather, Draco put Harry to bed and then curled around him. Harry did insist on squirming until Draco took his own robes, shirt, and boots off. Then Harry wrapped himself around Draco as much as he could while sparing his wings and dived into slumber.
He did murmur one last thing as he did so. “You’re wonderful, Draco.”
Draco didn’t say I know, or No, you’re wonderful, because he knew Harry wouldn’t hear. But he did tuck his arm around Harry’s waist and think, to himself, a little smugly, that he was the one who got to hear that.
*
“Auror Potter!”
Wonderful. Harry twisted towards the sound, already knowing that he wouldn’t like this confrontation. Draco came to a stop beside him, wings flexing and stretching. His eyes were narrowed, and his hands had already grown curved nails that looked as if they could tear through cloth.
Wish I could have him shred Nathan’s chest, Harry thought, and faced the bane of his existence in the Auror Corps.
Nathan Klaine came to a stop, staring at him intensely. Unlike the brown-eyed wizard from yesterday, whose name Harry hadn’t even known, this man was as familiar to him as Kingsley. He’d been in Harry’s class of trainees, and worked beside him on many missions, and had the office next to Harry’s.
And he’d never forgiven Harry for surviving a basilisk where his brother hadn’t.
“You know that all Veela mates have to be properly registered with the Ministry?” Nathan asked. His voice wasn’t a shout, but decently loud, and a few heads popped out of offices. They were in the middle of the main corridor that ran through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after all.
“No. I never heard such bollocks.”
Nathan blinked and took a step backwards. The heads retreated into their offices, and when Nathan spoke again, it was with a lowered voice and spite dark and impatient in his blue eyes. Harry knew he wouldn’t want their confrontation disrupted too easily. “Well, it’s true. Veela are creatures, and the Ministry registers them just like werewolves.”
“Another way in which we’re behind France and most other civilized nations.”
Nathan sneered at Draco and went right on talking to Harry as if he thought Draco didn’t exist. Or didn’t matter, Harry thought, as his anxiety rippled through him. That was likely to be closer to the truth. “You don’t have any choice now. You have to go and register, and so does he.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Harry shook his head. Nathan had always been prone to jump into situations like this and then need someone else to rescue him. “Then what? Are you going to tell me that being Draco’s mate means I have to stop working as an Auror? Are you going to tell me that we have to take potions every month, like registered werewolves have to take Wolfsbane? What?”
“It’s registration! That should be humiliating enough!”
“Nothing connected with Draco is ever going to humiliate me, Klaine.” Harry moved a stalking step forwards, which forced Nathan back—and away from Draco, which was what Harry had really been aiming for. “I’m his mate, he’s mine. That’s it. That’s the important thing.”
“Harry.”
There was a hint of a croon to the voice behind him, and Harry blinked and turned his head. He honestly didn’t know what had aroused Draco this time, but they were not mating in the middle of the Ministry.
However, he saw Draco’s eyes and how they were focused on Nathan, and knew in an instant that he’d mistaken the nature of the sound. “Draco, no.”
“Why not? He’s useless. A petty little creature of spite and malice.” Draco’s eyes narrowed and he sniffed once. “And grief. Grief he’s never addressed and blames you for. So, just like the people at Hogwarts who thought they could paint you with their own emotions. Pathetic. Some things never change, do they?”
“Draco—”
“Malfoy!” Nathan roared, and pointed his wand.
Harry’s own wand snapped up. That was what he’d been waiting for. Nathan could never control his temper, and he would have done something stupid any minute now. That it was aiming his wand at Harry’s mate only made the discipline all the sweeter.
“You need to lower your arm,” Harry said, his eyes boring into Nathan’s, while Nathan stared at him in something like shock.
“You can’t just—”
“When you threaten my mate? I can.”
“And that’s another benefit of the registration that you didn’t mention.” Draco’s hand was warm and solid and slightly restraining around Harry’s waist, just the way Harry liked it. “Veela mates are kept track of, along with Veela, but that just means when they get into a duel, it’s usually assumed to be for good cause. Unless there’s multiple Pensieve memories proving otherwise, of course.”
Nathan was panting, his arm trembling. Harry stared dispassionately back at him. He didn’t want to start a duel, but he knew he could if he wanted. But he leaned back against Draco and breathed gently to calm down as Kingsley came out of his office at the end of the corridor.
“Who began this?”
“Auror Klaine started taunting Auror Potter and his—mate about how they’d have to register,” said an Auror whose last name was Inchton. Harry nodded to her. She was strictly neutral on most topics, closed-off but fair. She nodded back and disappeared into her office again.
“Auror Klaine, I’m disappointed in you.”
“They do have to register!” Nathan flung back. At least he’d lowered his wand, which meant Harry felt marginally safe doing the same. Draco curled a hand around his side and gently stroked. “That part’s true!”
“Which would imply you said something that isn’t.”
Nathan stared at the floor. Harry wanted to shake his head, but he thought he might be in enough trouble as it was, so he stood still.
“He shouldn’t have lived,” Nathan whispered. “Brian should have.”
“Auror Potter’s survival is not his fault,” Kingsley said, in a calm, assured voice that had most of the spectators retreating now that they knew nothing more interesting would happen. “He underwent an investigation. And he was the only one who knew how to deal with a basilisk. That he managed to rescue the hostages—”
“But not Brian!”
And then, in spite of everything, in spite of Kingsley’s presence, Nathan wheeled around and lifted his wand again. Harry had never completely lowered his; he flicked a Shield Charm up now, and a surprise behind it if Nathan used Dark spells that could pierce the Shield Charm, which he might.
Sure enough, the curse that crackled from Nathan’s wand was Dark enough to make the air steam. Harry only took a prudent step back as the Shield Charm cracked.
The Cocoon Shield hiding behind it munched the curse—which seemed to be some version of Black Lightning Harry hadn’t seen before—and wrapped itself around the power. For an instant, Harry stood there in the surging silvery light of the fighting magic, with Nathan staring at him and Draco holding him so tightly his liver ached. Then the power turned and shot itself back into him.
Harry gasped and staggered. His eyes blinked hard, and he saw purple spots exploding in front of his vision. Then he grinned. That felt great. His fingertips tingled, and he felt the urge to dance down the corridor.
“What did that do?” demanded another Auror who was watching the aborted duel with enough attention that Harry could probably count the number of her teeth by now.
“The Cocoon Shield feeds the magic of the attacker back into the caster of the shield,” Draco said. His voice was muffled, probably because he had his head bowed so that he was sniffing directly into Harry’s neck. “There’s only a few people who can cast it. You have to be strong enough to manage the spell and withstand the magical backlash.” He tightened his arms and wings around Harry.
“I really want to fuck you now,” he added, but luckily, that was soft enough that Harry didn’t see anyone else turn red.
Kingsley finally recovered enough to Disarm Nathan and bind him, marching him away. He did catch Harry’s eye and jerk his head at his own office. Harry strutted up the corridor. At the moment, he didn’t care about anything but how good he felt.
And how good Draco’s hands felt on him. He turned around as soon as they got the door of Kingsley’s office closed, kissing him with desperation.
Draco shook his head fiercely and said, “Harry, I am not going to fuck you on Shacklebolt’s desk.”
“But you want to.”
“Your power matches what I knew about you before we bonded, and so does your recklessness.” Draco pushed his own hair out of his eyes and gave Harry a hard stare. “Calm down.”
Harry took a long breath that made his lungs twitch, and sat down. “You’re right. Damn, it’s been too bloody long since I used the Cocoon Shield if I’ve forgotten how to control the reaction.” He peered up at Draco. “Admit you wanted to, though.”
“I said that in the corridor.” Draco sat down in the chair next to him, reaching out to interlace his fingers with Harry’s. “Just—next time, please remember that my wings are also incredible shields.”
Harry blinked several times. He’d known that about Veela even before he and Draco bonded, but he’d forgotten. “Oh.”
“Yes. Let me protect you, too.” Draco’s face was sculpted beauty as he leaned forwards and gently shoved Harry’s fringe back off his scar. “You realize that I know how to.”
“Yes.” Harry leaned his head back and let Draco run his fingers through his hair, saying nothing else, until Kingsley came back.
I am so lucky to have him.
*
Thunderbird: Thanks! Poor Ron will have to put his hands over his ears a lot, unfortunately.
Jan: Yes, they are. Draco's parents...might be a different story.
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Temporary Mate