Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Nature of the Beast	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 48976 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Eighteen—Allies and Altogether
            Harry settled back and smiled as he read the newspaper article. He could sense Malfoy shifting behind him. He had got up to wander over to a sideboard that the house-elves had left loaded with food, and then never quite wandered back again. Harry thought it was probably just an impulse to be close to Harry.
            Harry stretched the paper over his shoulder so Malfoy could see it. Malfoy immediately bent down near him and sniffed his ear, then took the paper. Even that didn’t bother Harry as much as it would have last week, he thought, picking up a banger from his plate.
            I’m getting used to this bond. It’s not something I would have chosen, but there are things you can get used to.
            “I don’t understand why that’s a good thing,” said Malfoy’s voice a second later, a deep rumble that made Harry grin into his teacup.
            “Because they’re not siding with Maundy,” Harry explained, leaning backwards so he could smile at Malfoy’s face from upside-down. “They’re partially blaming me for the failure of the meeting, sure, and I would rather they didn’t do that. But they say that it happened because I reacted to a ‘pain spell,’ and she tried to use ‘a device’ on me.” Harry wondered how reliable the information had been, from someone who was there or someone who knew someone who was. It was hard to tell if the other pure-bloods had known what Maundy’s dragon really was, or had believed in Harry’s explanation of the Pain Geis.
            It all happened so quickly, and a lot of people aren’t used to situations as quick as that one, Harry thought to himself, breathing softly on the steam rising from his cup.
            “So they blame you and blame her at the same time?” Malfoy’s fingernails stroked his shoulder, and Harry found himself closing his eyes. Malfoy’s nails were sharper than normal, on the edge of becoming claws, he supposed, but it was soothing this time, like a deep scratching of an itch. “Why does that work?”
            Harry shrugged, half-opening his eyes. “They satisfy the public attitude for news about me, and yet make it clear that I’m not the only one to blame.”
            “You shouldn’t need to be satisfied with something so poor.” Malfoy stooped down so he was breathing directly on Harry’s earlobe. “To think it’s good when an article portions out the blame.”
            “I’m used to being blamed completely for everything from the war to the release of Slytherin’s monster from the Chamber of Secrets,” said Harry wryly, and set down his cup a little harder than necessary. “Yes, this feels like a reprieve. It’s ambiguous enough that at least some people will be on my side.”
            Malfoy nuzzled his ear again, then reluctantly straightened up when Harry moved away. “Are we going to Hogwarts today?”
            Harry glanced at him over his shoulder and nodded. “I think it’s important. We can show them that some magical creatures are also committed to the rebuilding of the school.”
            Malfoy looked startled, then thoughtful. Harry wondered if he was getting better at reading Malfoy, or if a Veela was simply more open with his mate. “I suppose I do count as a magical creature now,” he murmured.
            Harry grinned and stood up, swallowing the rest of his tea. “You do. Now, let me go get dressed…”
            “I can advise you on what to wear,” Malfoy said, and stood up with his head cocked to the side, his eyes trailing up and down Harry’s body.
            Although Harry suspected more than one motive for Malfoy’s sudden desire to help him dress, he didn’t intend to make a big deal of it. He simply shrugged. “This isn’t one of the big meetings where a lot of people will be there observing me and judging me if I don’t conform exactly to pure-blood fashions.”
            Malfoy made a little humming noise under his breath and spread his wings, somehow making them droop like giant palm fronds. Harry honestly wasn’t sure how he was doing that. “Well. You’d deprive me of the pleasure of dressing you?”
            “Not if you want to,” Harry had to say. He did get articles published in the papers about how he needed a more formal style, anyway. “I was just saying that we don’t need to put as much effort into it as we did with something like last meeting.”
            “That was only your effort. I wasn’t allowed to help.”
            Harry bit his lip to avoid saying something spiteful, and nodded. “That’s true. You can help now if you want.”
            “I’ll always want,” Malfoy said, in the low tones that made it sound like a threat, and stepped up beside Harry. For a second, his hand was on Harry’s shoulder, and then the sharp-feeling nails brushed through and caught in Harry’s hair. “You have no idea how deep my desire runs.”
            Harry half-blinked and hunched a shoulder towards him. “I might. Where are these clothes that will fit me? Or are you going to make do with the contents of my trunk?”
            “I don’t intend to make do with anything,” said Malfoy, his voice sharp again, and swept Harry up the stairs as fast as they could go without Malfoy actually flying him.
*
            Draco could hardly believe that he was the first person to help Harry dress.
            Well, Harry had said that Granger sometimes advised him on what to wear, and so did the Greengrasses when they were negotiating with other pure-bloods, but Granger didn’t have any interest in Harry and the Greengrasses wouldn’t be coming near him again. That gave Draco the honor.
            Harry raised his eyebrows when he saw the immense line of robes and shirts in Draco’s cupboards, but he didn’t say anything. He simply watched as Draco took out robes of green and blue and other deep colors that would suit his mate, and laid them gently on the bed. Then Draco looked at him and held up his wand.
            “I can spell the clothes on you and off again, if you prefer?” he offered.
            Harry gave him a look that Draco thought was at least as deep as his cupboard. Then he shook his head and stood up. “No, I reckon I’m all right,” Harry said, and stripped off his robes in one smooth motion.
            Draco found it hard to breathe. Harry’s back was mottled with scars, a length of muscle that caused Draco’s mouth to water, a fresh bruise—
            “Where did the bruise come from?” Draco asked, and although his voice was quiet Harry was wise enough to look around with quick wariness.
            “I didn’t know I had one,” Harry said. Draco stepped forwards and laid his hand against it, and Harry jumped and swore a little. “Well, now I know I do,” he said, and scowled a bit at Draco. “It’s from the Pain Geis.”
            Draco blinked and flattened out his hand so he was touching just lightly with his fingertips on top of the bruise, not enough to hurt. “I thought the Pain Geis only caused pain that didn’t leave bruises.” If that wasn’t true, he was going to cuff Harry for lying to him, and hurt Maundy in ways she couldn’t have imagined.
            “No,” said Harry, and grimaced. “I think I banged into the back of the chair when I was shaking.”
            “Convulsing,” Draco corrected him, and draped himself a little more over Harry, shaking his head. “I don’t understand why I didn’t sense this…”
            His voice trailed off. Now he did. It was the bloody weak bond they had. Of course he wasn’t going to sense anything when he couldn’t feel most of Harry’s emotions. Harry had barely registered the pain of the spell.
            “I need you to talk to me,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear, and took his hand away when he saw Harry shudder a little. He was probably pressing harder on the bruise without meaning to. “If the bond won’t give us the strength that should be ours—if the bond is weak because of things that you won’t tell me about and you can’t help—then the words are even more important.”
            “Are they?” Harry glanced back at him, and his face had an expression other than the boredom or the bleak defiance Draco had expected. Not that that helped him put a name to the expression, and he stepped from foot to foot in exasperation. Harry’s eyes softened a little. “It isn’t your fault that you didn’t notice this bruise. Neither did I.”
            “But you knew where it must have come from.” Draco stepped closer again, but managed to keep from touching the bruise. He just bent over Harry instead, and sheltered him like a drooping tree.
            “When I thought about it, I did.” Harry shrugged. “I haven’t hit my back on anything else lately.” He sighed and straightened up when Draco did some more doubtful, hard staring in his direction. “I appreciate the way you try to take care of me, Draco. I do. But I don’t want you to blame yourself. What would you have done if you knew I had this bruise?”
            “Put you to bed,” Draco said instantly. “Made sure that you had all the Pain-Killing Draughts you needed and pillows behind your head and hot drinks and sleeping potions—”
            Harry turned around and gave Draco his first glimpse of Harry’s bare chest. Not that he could properly appreciate it right now, when Harry’s eyes were on his, intense and not letting his gaze go. “And it would have been wasted effort, because I wouldn’t have stayed in bed. I have things to do.”
            “Does your health mean nothing to you?” Draco touched Harry’s chest. There was an old scar there, a sloppy round one. Draco stared at it. He could finally look away from Harry’s face. “I’d think that you would want to stay in good health for the sake of your alliances and peace process, if you don’t care about yourself or me.”
            “I phrased that badly, then.” Harry sounded a little upset as he reached up to catch Draco’s hand, and for a second, Draco felt flickers of that through the bond, too. He crooned wistfully. Things would be so much easier if he and Harry were bonded like a normal pair. “I mean that I would take care of myself, but a bruise is tiny in the scheme of things.”
            “I’m not waiting until you get cursed by another Dark Lord to start taking care of you,” Draco said tightly.
            “You can take care of me.” Draco opened his mouth, and Harry gave him a flat look. “When I’m injured and so on. Or threatened, the way you did when Maundy sent that dragon after me. But it’s ridiculous to put me to bed for a bruise, and I think you know it. If that’s the kind of thing a dominant Veela would do to a normal submissive mate, well, then guess which part doesn’t apply to me.”
            Draco hunched his wings, a little miserable. He had thought the other day that he didn’t want anyone except Harry as his mate, but what was permissible if he couldn’t do the things that his instincts were urging him on to do?
            “You can dress me.”
            Draco came slowly out of his daze, and blinked. Harry stood in front of him with his back turned again, looking at the robes on the bed. “What?”
            “You said that you were going to dress me and show me what would be appropriate to wear.” Harry glanced at him with bright eyes. “Or is that not the plan anymore?”
            “It’s the plan,” Draco said, but he narrowed his eyes a little as he picked up a green robe. “Are you manipulating me with pleasure to get out of talking about the bruise and the things that are appropriate for a Veela to do to his mate?”
            “I’m having you do something I thought we would both enjoy more,” Harry said. He reached for his own robes. “Or I can go on wearing these—”
            “No, I want to,” Draco said. “I want to,” he repeated, a little harder, when Harry’s hand lingered on the robes for a second.
            Harry nodded and stepped back, arms relaxed and down at his sides. “I’m all yours,” he said.
            Draco hissed softly, the possessive side of him awakened. He could satisfy it by sliding the robe over Harry’s head, though, and guiding his arms through the armholes, and sighing as he watched the rich color contrast with Harry’s pale skin and complement his dark hair and his eyes, almost the same color as the cloth. Draco smoothed the robe down over Harry’s chest and nodded.
            “Here,” he said, and turned Harry around so he was facing the mirror.
            Harry caught his breath. Draco didn’t miss that. He stalked a little closer and lifted his wings so that he could fan them gently, blowing a small breeze that made Harry’s robes ripple and spread away from his body.
            “You like that.” Draco didn’t mean for his voice to sound so guttural. It just happened.
            “I do,” said Harry. “I never thought…just one color could make a difference.” He turned back and forth, cocking his head as if he wanted to see the various angles his chin could adopt over the collar. “Only I don’t like the lace on the cuffs.”
            Draco flexed his hands, and then reached out and sliced his nails down the lace. It dropped to the floor in ruined pieces, and Harry blinked and stared down at them, then tilted his head back so he could consider Draco face-to-face.
            Draco blinked a little and flexed his nails again. "Did you not want that to happen?" he asked. He couldn't apologize, because the gesture had been his own idea and had seemed so perfect, but he could say this.
            "No, it's okay," Harry said, and looked up. "I just didn't expect it." He turned around and considered himself in the mirror again. Then he lifted his wand and flicked it, expertly knitting up the raveled edges of the cuffs. He nodded. "There. What do you think I look like now?"
            Draco stared at him, and found only one answer hovering on the back of his tongue.
            "Wonderful," he said, mixing it with a croon, and moved forwards to lay his hands on Harry's shoulders again, so Harry could see his head in the mirror framed by the wings.
            Harry caught his breath again for a minute. Draco knew he did. He couldn't be this close and miss the significance of that shuddering of skin, or the slight gasp on the edges of Harry's tongue.
            But Harry didn't dwell on it, and didn't give Draco the chance to do that, either. He simply reached up, squeezed Draco's hands for a second, and then gently pushed them off his shoulders, and said, "We really are going to be late for the meeting if we don't hurry."
            "Is your life a perpetual round of meetings?" Draco grumbled as he tugged his own modified robes off and put another set on, feeling the irritating rustle of cloth along the edges of his wings. But secretly, he was dizzy with pleasure. He wanted to stare at Harry and do nothing else for hours.
            "Pretty much," said Harry, and leaned against Draco's bed to wait for him.
            Paradoxically, that made Draco work faster on his clothes, as Harry had probably known he would. But he couldn't catch Harry hiding a smile no matter how many times he looked at him.
            Draco reckoned he could put up with it, for the sake of all the pleasure Harry had given him. And because Harry was Harry.
*
            Harry raised his head a little as Malfoy swept him onto the grounds of Hogwarts. He'd flown over the lake, carrying Harry, and now they came down in a soft sweep of flapping wings in the middle of the waiting group of people. There were stares and murmurs, but Harry ignored them as best he could. This had been the fastest way to get here.
            And in the meantime, Harry got to surprise some strange expressions on people's faces, and track who seemed dismayed at him showing up with Malfoy, and why.
            Helena Greengrass was there, but not Daphne. Daphne's mother met his eyes and nodded coolly, and then swept forwards to meet him. She ignored Draco's warning screech as if it didn't exist. "Have you heard anything from Tamara Maundy?" she asked Harry.
            "No," said Harry. "I didn't particularly expect to. She wouldn't want to admit that she embarrassed herself."
            "Did she?" Helena's eyes were shadowed. "Did she embarrass herself?"
            "She did," said Malfoy, and from the way Helena started and stared at him, she hadn't expected him to participate. "Now, excuse us. We have some important business to attend to." And he swept Harry towards the outer wall of Hogwarts with a single wing around his shoulder.
            "You did mean to imply that she wasn't important?" Harry whispered.
            Draco gave him a remote glance. "Of course I did. Keep up."
            And Harry laughed, and if the people they were approaching stared at him, at least he could say that he would rather get along with his mate and have his help in deciding how to handle some of these problems than walk in the kind of stupid, stubborn silence that had held them apart for the last fortnight.
*
            delia cerrano: Ron grew up with the concept. He never really thought that he would be a Veela's mate or even know someone who was, but he's at least easy with the idea that this is the way it's supposed to be.
            SP777: That part waits until the next chapter!
- 17
- 18
- 19
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Nature of the Beast