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Wind Beneath My Wings	By : KevinModay Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9358 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Wind Beneath My Wings

Rating: R

Author: Green Eyed Serpent

Disclaimer: See chap ONE

Status: Work In Process
Chapter Two
A Soul to Keep Silent

When Draco awoke the next morning, the first thing he found himself doing, was groaning. He was groaning because his body was in pain. as aas aching as if he’d just run a marathon at breakneck speed. The first explanation for this strangeness that came into his mind was that he was sick. He certainly felt sick. His stomach was churning heatedly and his skin felt overly sensitive, much like the times when he was out in the scorching sun for too long and his skin got a nasty sunburn.
Cu Curling up into a tight ball to try to rid this feeling, he forced one bleary eye open and almost immediately flinched at the blinding light streaking into the room. The sun felt like poison to his delicate irises and without a second thought, he sought the cool shadows, like a helpless worm seeking the filthy earth.

Ahh... cold.... floor... he thought in relief, pressing his flushed cheek against the smooth stone. He let his eyes flutter close for a moment until slowly, very slowly, his brain began to process his oddly acute senses. Something was amiss. Or rather, something was different. The coldness felt extremely calming, yes... but....

Didn’t he usually sleep on an incredibly soft bed with fluffy feather pillows beneath his head? Where was his cozy duvet and the sound of his House Elf calling him awake?

Stretching out his stiff body like a lithe cat, he vaguely noticed that his bare foot had hit something hard and sharp.

He opened his eyes once more and stared at the scenery surrounding him. He blinked and tried to figure out where he was, for it most definitely did not look at all like his room.

Towering shelves of books- enough to make one dizzy in the head. And a tall window with thick green curtains draped elegantly from the ceiling.

He glanced down toward his feet and saw a single hardcover book; a very thick one at that, who’s pages were squashed and sprawled at awkward looking angles.

And it all came flying back to him.

His room- himself, cutting Glican weeds- then accidentally piercing his hand with the razor-sharp knife. Blood. Blood everywhere, red blood, silver blood, mixing together and pain. Excruciating pain.

Stifling a scream, he scrambled to his feet, and wrapping his arms protectively around himself, began pacing back and forth along between the two shelves sandwiching him.

It was amazing how sleep could be driven out of one’s mind the minute something rather more significant was brought back to memory. Panic was flooding through his veins again, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped onto his head, and he had no idea what he was going to do. In fact, he wasn’t even quite sure what exactly had happened to him. The only thing that he knew was that the book had stated that he was now a Veela.

A VEELA.

Oh fucking dear god. This cannot be good...

Draco bit his lip nervously, his mind racing.

So he, the one and only heir of the Malfoy line, was merrily a Veela now. And a cursed, incomplete one at that. What would he tell his parents? How was he supposed to go back to school? Perhaps there was a counter potion that he could take to undo the transformation?

He really knew absolutely nothing about Veelas; only that they were magical, non-human, immortal, beautiful, and extremely vicious. From that, being Veela certainly didn’t seem too bad, but he was sure that there had to be something accursed or else people wouldn’t fear them so much. And even though eternal life and godly powers were appealing, he wasn’t quite eager to give up his life as a human.

Didn’t Veelas have crazy rules like mate bonding? Draco thought, horrified. Not wanting to waste time, he scrambled up and began unloading as many books on Veelas as he could off the shelves and stacked them on the ground. He sat down and took the first one and skimmed through, hoping beyond hope, that in one of these eight books, he would come across something that would prove helpful in this devastating situation. There had to be lots of people who accidentally cut themselves while handling Veela blood, right?

He feverishly thumbed through page after page, but nothing seemed to mention anything about a way to undo an unintended transformation.

Feeling slightly flustered, he tossed the first book carelessly off his lap and reached for the second one.

And then the third.

And the fourth.

By the time he was searching through the seventh book, he was beginning to worry that there was absolutely nothing in the world that could cure him of his hapless slip-up. It was more than a slip-up. His life was now a complete haven leading to hell. There was no way that he could possibly keep it a secret.

Draco’s hands were starting to lose their frenzy and were now turning the wads of pages rather listlessly. I’m doomed. Was the only thing he could honestly think to himself. Fucking Veelas and their fucking blood... fucking.... wow.

He halted and his eyes widened at a large picture on the page where his hand was hovering over. He felt as if he could not tear his gaze away from the breathtaking swirl of color... it was more like a priceless piece of art than a mere photograph.

It was a picture of a full-blooded Veela when their charm was radiating the strongest. They looked like angels, wa hia hint of mischievousness and sexiness that would make any mortal drool. Draasn&asn’t even attracted to women, yet these Veela seemed to have a sexuality of their own.

Shaking himself, he slammed the book shut and reached for the last book. It looked promising, but probably only because Draco was getting so desperate that any mention of the word ‘Veela’ or ‘Blood’ snared his attention now. The book’s title was:

Veela blood: A Hundred and One Secrets To Solving Their Mysteries

Pleading silently that there would be something useful in this book, he touched the faded purple cover to open it. But just as he was about to do so, he heard the distinct creaking of a door and with a startled gasp, released the bas ias if he’d been burned.

“Draco?”

It was his father’s voice. Draco stared down at the pile of books around him. He couldn’t let his father see what he’d been up to. Biting his tongue to keep himself from making any noises, he stooped down frantically and began stuffing the books haphazardly back into the shelves.

“Draco, is that you?”

“Yes father- I’ll be out there in a moment-”

Forcing the last book into the crammed space, he took a deep breath and walked out from between the shelves while pasting an leisurely look onto his face. He discreetly wiped his sweaty palms onto his pajamas and glanced up to see his father standing in his night robe with his silver serpent staff in one hand. He was looking oddly at Draco with raised eyebrows.

Draco was very conscious of the fact that he must look extremely odd in just his pajamas and barefooted. His hair was probably a mess too. How the hell was he supposed to make up a satisfactory excuse?

“What are you doing in the Library so early, Draco?” Lucius asked. His voice sounded almost too loud in Draco’s ears, making his eardrums throb sorely.

Waving the pain off, he stretched his arms casually. “Looking for a book, obviously.” he replied.

He tried to ignore the suspicious glint in his father’s eyes. “You hardly ever come in here.”

“So?” Draco nearly snapped, but he controlled his tone just in time. “If you must know father, I was merely in here to look for a book that might help me with an assignment. School does start next week after all.”

Lucius sighed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done all your school work yet. You’ve had a good month to finish it. I won’t have you receiving lower grades then that muggleborn Draco. Do you know how much shame that brings to the family?”

Draco growled and lowered his eyes. “Yes father.”

“I expect you to return this year with exceeding N.E.W.T.s. Is that clear?”

“Yes father.”

“And Draco?”

Draco clenched his fists in irritation. But there was something other than irritation boiling up inside of him. It was an emotion he’d never felt before. As if he wanted to scratch his father’s eyes out...

“Yes, father?”

Lucius stepped forward and lowered his face dangerously close to Draco’s. Draco sucked in a sharp breath.

“Might I remind you that you will be receiving the gift from the Dark Lord when you come back for the Holidays. I suggest that you do something before then in return. If you cannot think of something suitable, then I will decide for you.”

“I will think of something father.” hissed Draco, stepping back and glaring with an insulted air. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good. Well it is time for breakfast. Let us adjourn to the dining room.”

Lucius gave Draco one scrutinizing look and then he turned on his heel and strode out of the Library without another word.

When the door swung shut again behind his father’s retreating back, and there was silence once more, Draco let out a long sigh and unclenched his fists that had been gripping handfuls of his silk pajama bottoms. The anger inside him ebbed away, but he felt nothing close to relief. In fact, he felt confused because of this anger. He’d never in his life wanted to actually physically hurt his own father. Perhaps he’d been angry enough to give him the silent treatment in the past, but never anything worse. He usually looked up to him and held some amount of respect for the man.

But not today. He hated his father for the first time. And only because he’d gotten on Draco’s nerves.

God, what the fuck is going on with me? Draco oredored desperately as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair. It’s even starting to mess with my mind.

Quickly checking once more that the books were back in the shelves in an inconspicuous way, he made his way to the dining hall in nervous spirits.

His mother and father were already seated in their places, and hardly acknowledged his arrival. The House Elves were scurrying back and forth from the kitchen to the longle, le, carrying trays and trays of food.
It was the scene he saw every morning and nothing seemed out of place.

Draco himself, sat down at his usual end and patted down his table napkin with tense fingers.

“Master Draco?” a high-pitched squeak sounded from beside him.

“What?” he exclaimed a bit too loudly. “I mean, yes?”

The House Elf looked confused for a second and thtt’s expression became polite.

“What would Master Draco like for his breakfast this morning?”

“Oh-” Duh. Putting on a look of superiority, he frowned. “Whatever father is having.”

“Yes, Master Draco.”

Draco snuck a quick glance at his father, but his father was eating his roll and jam with a copy of the Daily Prophet propped in one hand, showing no sign that he was even aware that Draco was present and sitting in the same room. So far, everything was going normally and knowing that made Draco relax a might.

A few seconds r, tr, the same House Elf appeared next to him and bowed low before setting the basket of fresh bread rolls, jam, and eggs on the table.

The good first half of breakfast was a silent affair. Mrs. Malfoy excused herself after finishing her cup of Black Tea and Draco was once more alone with his father.

“May I see that after you, father?” Draco inquired lightly, wiping his mouth with his serviette before taking a sip of his coffee. After a pause, Mr. Malfoy refolded the paper and snapped his fingers sharply. A House Elf immediately rushed up to him and took the paper from him with humble hands.

“Give this to Draco.”

“Yes, Master.”

The House Elf bowed low and then was at Draco’s end of the table in less then three seconds. Considering the length of the table, it was quite an extraordinary thing.

“Son?”

Draco looked up from the paper abruptly and gulped. “Yes?”

“I believe today is the 25th?”

Draco’s eyes flickered to the top of the Daily Prophet where the date was printed. “It is.”

“Then perhaps you should get ready, or do you have other things in mind?”

“Get ready....?”

“I am sure I am not mistaken when I say that you usually go shopping for your school things on the 25th?” his father said with his eye rai raised.

Draco bit his tongue. Any more of these mistakes and his father would surely come to suspect something...

Forcing himself to look right into the other pair of piercing blue eyes to try and show that he wasn’t making anything up, he shrugged.
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Wind Beneath My Wings