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
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- 2
- 3
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Two—Changed

            Harry shut his door behind him and looked around his house with weary eyes. The furniture seemed bigger than normal, the shadows deeper.

Harry snorted and touched his forehead with two fingers, hoping to stifle the beginnings of a headache, then stumbled towards the kitchen. Dashing around after a criminal for three days straight—especially one who wasn’t good at concealing his crimes but excellent at running away—would do that to him.

But now Alfred Orson was in a holding cell, and wouldn’t trouble anyone else with his brilliant cons to grab their money that always fell apart at the last minute. Harry yawned and began to make himself a pot of tea, thinking longingly of his bed and the fact that he had two straight days off. Kingsley would have extended it to a week if he could, but that only resulted in Harry coming back to the office “unofficially” before he was supposed to and making himself deeply annoying.

            He finally collapsed into the chair before his fireplace with his cup of tea, lit the flames with a wave of his wand, and began to sip. For long moments there was nothing in the world but the heat beating at him from inside and outside. Harry sighed and allowed himself to relax.

            Then the fire flared green with the sign of an incoming firecall. Harry growled and sat up. “I swear to Merlin,” he muttered, “if this is another case, I’m going to kick Kingsley in the arse.”

            “What was that, Harry?”

            All Harry’s tendons seemed to stretch and tighten at once. He nearly dropped his cup. Turning, he managed to set it on the table closest to the chair and face the fire again, stretching his fingers out and popping his knuckles so that he could release some of his nervousness.

            “Hullo, Draco,” he said.

            He had almost forgotten that he had given Draco his Floo address several years ago, so that he would have a quick escape if someone vindictive ever passed his wards. Harry wished his smile was more welcoming now, but there was no way he could make it so.

            If Draco’s really my friend, he’ll understand, he told himself, and clung to that as the truth.

            “Harry.” Draco’s voice was deep and soft, and his eyes studied Harry out of the flames with a different kind of softness. Harry swallowed. His throat felt thick with strings of saliva. “I wanted to know if you had given any more thought to what I said.”

            Harry shook his head. “I spent the last three days on a case,” he said with perfect truth. “I didn’t have time.”

            And I didn’t want to think about it, he added in his mind, with more than perfect truth.

            “Oh.” Draco’s disappointment was evident. “Can I still come through?”

            “Still?” Harry asked before he could stop himself, because he couldn’t remember them setting up a meeting for tonight.

            “I planned to.” Draco watched him, then added, “Of course, if you would rather that I didn’t…”

            Harry sighed. Yes, he would prefer that Draco didn’t, to be frank, but saying so would only give Harry another excuse to put off something he needed to face, at least as long as Draco was this persistent. “It’s all right. Come through.”

            Draco smiled, and the next moment his dark, whirling shape appeared in the flames. When he climbed out, he stumbled over the low, wave-shaped ridge at the top of Harry’s hearth, the way everyone did, and spent some moments swatting soot from his robes, without looking up to meet Harry’s eyes.

            Harry studied him in turn. Draco wore pale ivory robes, which hadn’t survived the trip through the Floo as well as the darker colors that Harry preferred. His hair had been cut recently, and hung in his face until he raised his head, when it swished softly to the side. His eyes were wide and uncertain, gentler and dimmer than Harry would have said they could be a few years ago.

            But that had been a few years ago, when he really didn’t know Draco at all. “Come in and sit down,” Harry said, waving at another chair that faced the fireplace. That much, he could say normally, since it was such a normal thing to say.

            Draco did, but he dragged the chair around so that he could see Harry more easily. Harry could hardly blame him for that, and yet he did feel his back swelling with defensiveness. He coughed and looked away.

            “Will you think about it?” Draco asked, when a few minutes had dragged past in uncomfortable silence.

            Harry spent another minute thinking about what he should say, and then decided that honesty—if polite honesty—would serve him better than any amount of diplomacy, which might give Draco false hope. He turned back, and stopped disguising how much effort it took him to keep from flinching just with a Veela in the house. Draco blinked, then stared at the floor.

            “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry said quietly. “I still struggle with my recovery.” Flashes of his arms thrown above his head, pinned down by other arms, hips thrusting until they slammed into his own, his joyful cries at the sensation of being so full—and all of it a lie…

            Harry gagged and threw the images from him before he could vomit up the tea. His memories tended to manifest themselves through making him get rid of food, for some reason. Maybe because Laurent hadn’t let him eat during the days Harry had been under his control. Harry was glad now that he hadn’t had time to eat before Draco appeared in the fire. He held Draco’s eyes and shook his head. “I don’t see what dating another Veela would accomplish except to set back that recovery.”

            Draco’s eyes were filled with the light of the fire, they were so clear. “Can you think of me as just a friend, then?” he asked, softly, urgently. “Someone who wants to help you, not a Veela?”

            “How can I?” Harry asked in return. “I would always be thinking that you wanted to get me healthy because you wanted to date me. And come spring…”

            He shuddered and looked away. Come spring, it would be the Blazing Season, the time when Veela “needed” to be dominant, the time when Laurent had raped him. There was no way that Harry could go through that again. If he dated Draco, he would spend those weeks flinching away from every slight touch and locking himself in his bedroom at night. Fuck, he’d done that already the first year, and last year he had survived by burying himself in paperwork and casework so intense that the Blazing Season was over by the time he noticed the calendar again.

            “I swear I won’t.”

            Harry lifted his head. Draco had leaned forwards and extended a hand, but it hovered well short of touching him, short enough that Harry could judge the distance rationally. He nodded for Draco to go on, though he could only look at his hand and not his face.

            Draco seemed to realize what the problem was a minute later and pulled his hand back to rest in his lap. “You’re the one who has to make that decision,” he said. “I promise. I won’t press you. I won’t ask. I’ll stay away from you during the Blazing Season so that you don’t have to deal with my jealousy, or—any of the rest of it.” His voice changed, becoming higher and sweeter, but luckily not ascending to the croon. Harry closed his eyes. Laurent had given all his orders in a croon, as if that would make what he was doing right. “The only thing I ask is that you let me know if you date anyone else. I want to have time to prepare.”

            Harry struggled to smile, because he badly thought he needed to. “Not bloody likely,” he murmured. “I haven’t dated anyone since—him.”

            “Another reason to accept my help, then.” Draco’s voice sounded normal again. “You should have the ability to enjoy sex again, Harry. He took that from you. Do you know if you’ll get it back, without help?”

            It was a respectful question, not a demanding one, which was the only reason Harry gritted his teeth and considered it. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

            “Then—”

            Draco sounded too assured this time, as though it was a given that Harry would want to have sex so much he’d let another Veela into his life. “That’s not the point!” Harry said, and slammed his hand into the chair arm. “Don’t you understand? I don’t care if I ever have sex again, as long as I have what he stole from me!”

            Draco’s eyelashes lifted high, making his eyes appear wider and more startled than Harry had known they could go. Of course, he hadn’t had to consider things like that before, before Draco made him think about things like attractiveness and sex instead of friendship.

            Harry leaped to his feet. He still didn’t want to strike out against Draco, but he had to do something to release the restless, nervous energy burning through him. He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, digging his fingers into his hair. His scalp hurt where his nails scratched it. He didn’t care.

            “What was it he stole from you?” Draco asked at last. It sounded as though a cloud constricted his voice. Good, Harry thought, turning around to stare at him again. Let him always be a little off-balance, a little uncertain. No Veela will ever be perfectly sure that he’s my master ever again.

            “Control,” Harry said. “And so I’m a bit crazy now—crazy in ways that you really wouldn’t like, Malfoy.” He laughed without humor, because Draco was still looking at him with pity and longing, and he didn’t understand. “I want to make my own food, because he wouldn’t let me eat while he had me. I can’t stand being immobilized even when I’m injured, as the staff of St. Mungo’s learned last year at the cost of two rooms when my magic exploded. I have to take care of myself, no matter how difficult it is or how stupid it seems. That makes me hardly an ideal lover for everyone, let alone a Veela.”

            Draco was still looking at him, but it seemed difficult for him. His eyes kept shutting. His fingers were spread open on the arm of his chair, and Harry thought he wanted to claw the wood apart.

            “I didn’t realize,” he said at last.

            “No one has,” Harry said triumphantly. He ought to go away now. He can’t want me through this. “That’s because no one has been fool enough to try and date me since I put Laurent in prison.”

            Draco’s manner changed in the flick of an eyelid. He leaned forwards, and his lips parted, his gaze drawing down and in. “Laurent? Is that his name?”

            Harry laughed. Well, he thought he did. There was no cold dry sound the way he had envisioned. His throat strained and produced nothing.

*

            He had exploded from his Veela-struck state so suddenly that there was no way Laurent could have anticipated it or held him back. Harry’s mind flipped; his protesting side was on top now and his urge to obey and give Laurent what he wanted on the bottom.

            And within him was a black rage and an urge to kill so intense that it made all the times he’d wished for the death of Voldemort seem like vindictive daydreams.

            His wand was on the table. Laurent always kept it near, because he enjoyed showing the power he had over Harry; he could break the bond between a wand and its wizard. Harry snatched it and whirled around.

            Laurent was still raising himself on one elbow, skin pale and perfect, shining with an inner light that no human could ever imitate. His wide, pale blue eyes were open, one arm lifted in a curve that mimicked the curve of his wing. White, his wings, and white, his hair, and white, the shine around him, and white, the stars in Harry’s vision.

            He could picture the explosion of red that would follow in answer to his wishes, if he only cast the right curse. The blood in Laurent’s veins would speed out of them and coat the white sheets and white walls and white pillows. It would match the red, sore mess Harry was sure his arse was, because even in his “safe” Veela-struck state there was no way that Laurent would let Harry top during the Blazing Season, of course not, a Veela “had” to have control.

            Harry could do it. He could have. He could have settled everything that way, and after seeing his Pensieve memory and hearing his Veritaserum testimony, no one would have blamed him.

            But he dug deep down, beneath black and white and red, and found the intense life that he had felt when he was walking through the Forbidden Forest, on his way to sacrifice himself to Voldemort for the good of other people. It was a crazy plan that no one could have expected him to go through with.

Because no one expected it did not make refusing it the right thing to do.

Because no one would blame him did not make murder right.

The spell Harry cast was Incarcerous, and he chanted the litany that criminals, no matter how horrible, had the right to hear, keeping his eyes averted from Laurent. “The Ministry arrests you now for the crime of…” He couldn’t say the word the first time, but he skipped it and continued the chant. “You have the right to personal safety until your time of trial. You will be conducted to a holding cell and given over to the proper authorities. If you wish to offer a confession, you will be given the chance to do so…”

He said so, and it was so.

Not even Laurent had the power to take from Harry what he was. If he had exploded in murderous magic, if he had given in to the emotions Laurent stirred, then he would have been a slave all his life, desperately chasing his lost freedom.

Instead, he seized control of his life and his fate in the same moment, and he became what he was. He was still an Auror. He was still a Light wizard, not a Dark one. He still did the right thing, no matter the cost to himself.

No one could change that. No one would ever take his control, his independence, his choice, from him again.

He was free, and would remain so.

*

            Draco watched Harry with as much stillness as he could command, considering how upset he was. The croon was right behind his lips, the wings right behind his shoulders, and the allure leaking out of the corners of his eyes. All the things that would keep a chosen one safe, and he wasn’t allowed to use them.

            The conflict between human and Veela instincts made Draco writhe as he sat in his seat, but he didn’t rise.

            Harry opened his eyes at last and turned to Draco with a fragile glaze stretching across them. Draco had never been in the presence of such pain. His joints ached with it. He waited.

            “I arrested him,” Harry said. “He was tried and found guilty by the Wizengamot in seclusion, so that the rest of the wizarding world didn’t have to learn about what happened to me, and put in Azkaban under a false name.” His voice was gaining strength now. “And he’s there still. He’s suffering, the way they all suffer, but he’s alive. I didn’t kill him.”

            He stepped towards Draco, his wand held in front of him like an extension of his arm. Draco kept still now for different reasons.

            “And if I didn’t kill him,” Harry whispered, “there’s no way in any world that you’ll get to.”

            Draco spread his hands. He knew what was required, now, though it was not what he wanted to give. But nothing since he had decided to approach Harry had been about what he wanted; it had been about what Harry needed, instead.

            “I understand, Harry,” he said in a level, quiet voice. “I wouldn’t want to, not if you’ve decided that’s what’s best.”

            Harry stared at him, and his eyes narrowed. “But Veela want to protect their partners,” he said. “I know that. He told me.” A flash of teeth, gone so suddenly that the quickness was more frightening to Draco than the fact that it had appeared in the first place. “How can you hear about what happened to me and not decide that you have to rip him apart?”

            “First,” Draco said, “because we’re not partners yet.” And might never be, he had to remind himself, although parts of his body that weren’t even present throbbed with the desire to be. “Second, because you made the decision, and I’ll respect that. No matter how hard it might be for me to do so.” He smiled, and hoped that Harry was aware enough to see the mockery in the smile as well as the wistfulness.

            Harry lowered his wand, which relaxed Draco more than he liked to think about, and bit his lip, shutting his eyes. Draco waited. All he could do was respond when Harry made a move. Anticipating what Harry would do would hurt them both. He was not in control here.

            Draco shifted his shoulders, trying to keep his wings from spreading in response to that suggestion.

            “Veela have to be dominant,” Harry said. “I know that. The books I read when I was trying to understand him said so, and so did he.”

            Draco knew why Harry was doing it, but he could wish Harry would speak of the rapist by name instead of in that low, charged tone, equal parts hatred and fear. It was the way Draco had been used to hearing his father refer to the dark Lord.

            “We don’t have to be,” Draco said softly. “It depends on the—time of year—” He spoke those words carefully, knowing that he risked an explosion, but Harry only jerked his head, as if to say that he knew that and Draco should go on. Draco did, thankful. “And the Veela’s individual personality. Some of us take it too far, yes. I know Veela who try to use their ‘animal nature’ to excuse every impolite gesture they make. Bollocks. Except for those certain times of the year, and a few extra abilities that we can use if we want to, we’re as human as anyone else.”

            The tone and words had soothed Harry, as Draco had meant them to. Harry frowned, though, and folded his arms in such a way that he could aim his wand at Draco again in an instant. “Then why did all the books put their emphasis on the dominance?” He didn’t ask why his rapist had. He could see the answer, and so could Draco.

            The answer made Draco want to rip out the rapist’s throat, mind, but that wasn’t the point.

            “Because the books are mostly written by wizards who are fascinated by anyone who’s not human,” Draco said, rolling his eyes, “and apt to place too much importance on the minor differences. Also, some people have had Veela lovers who are arseholes seeking to use their magic to excuse their behavior, as I said. They take those honest impressions of certain Veela and write them down as if they encompassed the whole species.”

            Harry nodded agreement, but he tensed in the next moment and leaned forwards, his eyes as fierce as a wolf’s. “But it’s not a lie that all Veela have the allure and you can control someone if you want to.”

            Draco nodded back, not sure what he should say. Harry probably wouldn’t believe a reassurance that Draco wouldn’t ever do that, and he wouldn’t appreciate a reminder that he was resistant to the allure, given that that was what had made his rapist decide to make him Veela-struck instead.

            Harry stared at him, then turned and started pacing again. Draco wished he knew what the fuck to do. Harry’s reactions were too changeable, that was the problem. Just as Draco decided on one coherent course of action, Harry did something else, and he had to try and decide on another.

            And can you blame him for being changeable, given what’s happened to him?

            Draco winced and felt like a heel. It wasn’t that hard, after all, to wait and see what Harry wanted to do or say. If he had this much trouble waiting, perhaps he should leave now and spare Harry a lot of worry.

            “I want to be in control of my life,” Harry said, whipping around again and nearly startling Draco into rising out of his chair in self-defense. “All of it. That includes decisions about whether or not have to sex, and it means getting better defenses against these bloody memories that rise out of the depths of my mind whenever I don’t watch out.” He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.

            Draco’s cheer caught in the back of his throat. Harry hadn’t said that he needed or wanted Draco’s help to achieve that goal yet. “If you can replace the unpleasant memories with new ones, that would certainly help,” he said, neutrally.

            “And you’re the only one who’s offered,” Harry said, as if continuing a line of conversation that Draco didn’t know they’d started. “You’re kind, patient, a friend, not a stranger. And you’re not one of those Mind-Healers who thinks that I need to thresh out every little detail.” He rolled his eyes and scowled at someone invisible for a moment.

            I could be in love with you, eventually, Draco thought hopefully. That’s another advantage.

            “But.” Harry stalked towards him, until he loomed over Draco and Draco had to lean back to see his face. “You still have the allure. You could control me any time you wanted.”

            “I wouldn’t do that,” Draco said, the only protest he could make before Harry snarled and whirled away again.

            “But you could. That’s the point.” Harry’s hands both raked through his hair at once, rendering it an inescapable mess. “How can I trust you? How can I lie down with someone who might want to—to take me at any moment?”

            “I have no problem with bottoming,” Draco said, glad that he had followed the instinct to be blunt when Harry stared at him with his mouth slightly parted. “Or with blowjobs or wanking, or anything else that you might want.”

            “What if I said that it would be a long time before I wanted anything like that?” Harry was sneering, body braced for rejection.

            “Then I would wait a long time,” Draco said. “I’m sure there are plenty of ways that we could replace the unpleasant memories with pleasant ones that don’t involve sex.”

            Harry shook his head slightly. “What if I never wanted that with you? What if I decided that I wanted to be with someone else?”

            Draco felt sick to his stomach with jealousy, but he reminded himself of the revulsion he’d felt four days ago when he learned the truth about Harry’s rape, and answered calmly on the strength of that. “Then I only ask that you tell me before you start dating that person, that’s all.”

            Harry clenched his hands. “That’s not what he would have said.”

            “I’m not him.” Draco reached out a pleading hand, knowing it might not be the best move, but unable to stop himself. “My goal is to help you heal, not have sex.”

            Harry froze, head cocked as if listening to a horn that Draco couldn’t hear, calling from far away. Then he said, “I couldn’t—I wouldn’t have to make a decision. I could keep you dangling.”

            “You could,” Draco said. “But I think you’re kinder than that.”

            “Despite what I did to him?” Harry curled his lip.

            “What you did to him?” Draco echoed, stunned into more honesty than he would have used otherwise. “I’m awed that you managed to hold back far enough to arrest him. I would have killed him.”

            Harry turned away again and walked slowly to the other side of the room. Draco wanted to go after him, pull him back to the fire, and shelter him in his wings, but Harry would hate that. Draco imagined that he might consider even a hand on his arm an unfair restraint. He would have to remember that.

            “Come back in a few days,” Harry whispered. “I’ll tell you whether I want your help then.”

            Draco stood up at once. “Thank you, Harry,” he said gravely, to disguise the soaring joy that leaped and screamed inside him. “It means a lot to me.”

            He stepped to the fireplace, tossed in a pinch of Floo powder, and spoke the name of Malfoy Manor, not daring to look back, for fear the longing would show in his face more clearly than the happiness.

*

            Harry shut his eyes when he was alone. He had to absorb the warmth of the fire mindlessly for a long moment before he could question himself.

            Am I sure I want to do this? Given—everything?

            But the implacable resolve that had been born when Laurent raped him and that had reduced Hermione to tears the last time he was wounded, since he insisted on doing everything for himself, answered back.

            I need to be in control of everything, and right now I’m not. This is an advance on control.

            Harry opened his eyes and nodded sternly, though there was no one there to see him, not even the mirror that had once stood in the room. Harry had smashed all the mirrors in his house the day after Laurent went to Azkaban.

            I will be master of myself, no matter the consequences.

*

            paigeey07: Thank you!

            myniephoenix: Thanks for reviewing.

            mrequecky: Thank you!

            Amiyom: Thanks. I didn’t want to write another Veela fic until I came up with another original take.

            momoko: Thanks!

            SP777: Oh, this is novel—length, not a one-shot.

            Byond_repair: Thanks! Sorry, but I don’t do crossovers, and I don’t know any anime fandoms well enough to do any.

            polka dot: Thank you!

            Axel; Thanks for reviewing.

            angelmuziq; Thanks!

            Lady_of_Clunn: Yes, Draco will be in that position fairly often. The Veela part of him urges him to defend Harry, but Harry wants to defend himself.

            Tellnoone_Noonetells: Thanks! A lot of them are probably going to happen.

            Thrnbrooke: And good luck to Harry, too.

            Lily: Thank you.

            Dragonsnurse: Thanks! Harry wants to be strong, but he will flinch, and Draco wants to be helpful, but he will get in the way, so they’ll both have a hard road from here on out.
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