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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
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Chapter Two—The Blue Night
The land all around them had faded to a glimmering twist of blue among red so dusky that it looked brown, and the light had finally faded from the horizon. Draco thought it was like being inside a bowl capped by another bowl.
Potter was making camp beside him.
Draco watched him between squinted eyelids while he conjured his own fireballs and sent them floating into a circle around them. He was responsible for the defensive perimeter. Potter had said he would set up wards, make the fire, and prepare the food. When Draco had asked why he was only using fireballs instead of doing other things, Potter had given him a worried smile.
“You went through a huge transformation this afternoon. I don’t want to wear you down unnecessarily.”
He was good. And Draco wasn’t just looking at the way his muscles rippled in his back as he knelt by the newborn fire, casting spells so that it wouldn’t go out.
He’s honorable. Self-sacrificing. How many people would agree to be bound as a temporary mate to a Veela, even if they didn’t have someone waiting at home right that moment? He has to know that either he risks falling in love and being hurt when the bond ends, or doing things he doesn’t want to do.
“You okay?”
Potter was looking back at him. Draco shook some of the contemplation away and said, “Just wondering about your strange eagerness to bind yourself to me. And why you didn’t ask me to build the fire.”
Potter smiled at him, a flash of white teeth as strong as his muscles as he twisted to Summon some food from one of the bags. “I know more about Veela than you realize. I know your fire’s meant for defense. It would see our food as a threat and try to char it.”
“And you’re avoiding the main question.” Draco realized his voice had descended to a sharp purr, and winced a little, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the way Potter stretched, or turned back, or set a small metal pot to float above the fire.
Potter faced him again and nodded. “All right. The truth is, I don’t find kissing a man disgusting.” He paused, but Draco had heard rumors some time ago of Potter’s liking for both genders, and only waited. “I haven’t done it in a long time, and I don’t have anyone at home who’ll be hurt by it, and you need it to survive. That’s the big one.”
“But you could be hurt. Temporary mates often are, the times this has happened in the past, when the time came to sever the bond.”
“So?”
Potter sounded so baffled…Draco paused and brightened the fireballs glowing around the edges of the clearing with a flick of his fingers. The odd illumination shining from the ground made it hard to see Potter’s face when it was the only light. “You don’t care about being hurt?”
“I accept that it happens. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Why would I be an Auror otherwise?”
Draco had never before encountered a mindset quite that foreign to him, but there was hardly any point in harassing Potter about it. Besides, he could feel a silver quiver growing inside him, coming closer and closer to the surface. He leaned forwards.
Potter, who was tapping his wand on the hovering pot and muttering spells Draco had never heard before, didn’t notice him at first. Then he stiffened as Draco’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.
“Relax,” Draco said, near his ear. He had the longing to take Potter’s earlobe between his teeth, but it wouldn’t help them. “If you push me away too much, then the Veela might see that as its mate rejecting it.”
“It?” Potter leaned back from the pot, but still kept his wand pointing at it, and cast one last spell. The pot started to make bubbling noises. “Not he?”
Draco paused. He hadn’t thought about that. When he had been the Veela, calling Potter Harry and wanting to bear him down to the ground so that he could pleasure him, he hadn’t needed pronouns for it, and now that he was back in his right mind, he felt entirely separate from it. “It,” he said firmly, and turned Potter’s face around. His lips were full and firm. Draco kissed him.
Potter sighed underneath him and opened his mouth. Draco could feel his heart promptly responding, so fast that it made a humming ache under his breastbone. He hooked his fingers into Potter’s hair and yanked him back and down, so that his face was more directly beneath Draco’s.
For a moment, Potter scrabbled, his hands trying to find some hold on Draco’s robes or the ground. Draco didn’t let him. He bore him down, kneeling beside him but over him, and held him in place, and kissed.
The Veela inside him was purring now, filling his head with a half-drunken haze. Draco could feel himself hardening, slowly, like a luxury. He reached out, and his hands had claws. He knew he could shred open Harry’s Auror robes, and trace the curve of his muscles, and make his skin burn with such sweet fire that he would give himself to Draco without hesitating.
Harry’s eyes opened and looked at him gently in the firelight. Draco had never realized human eyes could have that color. He leaned over to kiss him on his eyelids, but Harry shook his head a little and said, “Our dinner is going to burn.”
Draco paused. Various hungers reared and clashed in him, and then he let Harry sit up. But he turned Harry so that his back was to Draco’s chest, and he stole another kiss as Harry leaned over and stirred the fragments of fish and rice and something else that made up their meal.
He couldn’t wait until it was over.
*
By the time they had finished eating—Malfoy feeding Harry half the food by hand—Harry had made his decision. He knew he had to tread carefully so that he wouldn’t risk angering the Veela.
But his thoughts weren’t only of the Veela. They were also of Malfoy, who had done this so he could survive, and who might be mortified when he found out how far the Veela was willing to go.
When Harry had swallowed the last piece of cod and Malfoy had turned his face around again, Harry touched his chin to hold his face motionless. “How long do you think the journey to the Veela enclave is going to take?” he asked.
“I’ve never been here before. Why should I know? I think we have more important things to do than talk about it.”
Gently, Harry folded his fingers against Malfoy’s lips when he once again tried to start a kiss. “But I know Veela can feel the distance from others of their kind.”
Malfoy grinned and canted his hips forwards. Harry gasped as Malfoy’s erection rubbed against his thigh. “Right now, there’s only one kind of distance I’m interested in sensing. Or doing something about.”
God, it was so tempting. Those kisses earlier had made him burn. And Harry knew that Veela made excellent lovers. He’d overheard a few conversations between Bill and Fleur—without meaning to—that made him certain of that.
Damn his morals, anyway.
But even as Malfoy dragged at him with soft hands that made him shudder, Harry kept his head. “Come on. How far?”
Malfoy sighed and lifted his head, mouth twisting as if Harry was making him recite a dull list of Potions ingredients. “As far as it would take me to fly in four days. That way.” He gestured with a wing—Harry honestly hadn’t heard them sprout from his back—in the direction they had been walking.
Harry nodded. He had a magical compass from the Auror Department, and he knew the direction they should head. But without Malfoy, he would have had no idea how long it would take.
Probably longer than four days walking, anyway.
Malfoy interrupted his thoughts as he slid forwards, his chest to Harry’s chest, his fingers working with glinting tips against the cloth in a way that made it obvious he was thinking about ripping it apart. “Do you need any other information right now? Or can I fuck you?”
“One thing,” Harry gasped, shivering and swelling as those words went through him. God, he’d missed being fucked. He really wanted to give in and let Malfoy have his way.
But. There was still a man who might be humiliated here.
“Done,” Malfoy mumbled, nuzzling into his neck. His teeth opened and scraped, needle-shaped, across Harry’s muscles. But even though Harry had been bitten by vampires and had lots of reasons to be nervous about having something like that at his throat, he didn’t have any impulse to draw back.
Only to drive himself forwards.
Harry grabbed hold of his own impulses and said, “There’s something you should know.”
“Is this the one thing you were talking about?” Malfoy’s voice was thick. His tongue kept lapping the side of Harry’s neck, and that muffled his words, too. Harry was only certain of what they were because Malfoy’s mouth was so close to his ear. “I want you to stop talking, Harry. I want you to lie back and let me take you.”
Merlin, yes. But Harry restrained himself, and only said, in a calm, polite voice, “Our fire will burn out.”
Malfoy swung his legs to straddle Harry’s waist. “I don’t care.”
Harry stared up into his eyes and saw that was true. Malfoy’s claws were flexing. He wanted to shred Harry’s robe and then set to work with his teeth and tongue and cock on Harry’s body. And again came the temptation to let him, to lie back and surrender, because there was nothing Harry wanted more.
Except to spare him.
Harry sighed and cast a spell that Aurors used most of the time to free comrades whose minds were fogged by the Imperius Curse or something similar. “Mens clara.”
Malfoy shuddered, and his hands flew up to hold his temples. Harry watched him in worry, only now wondering if he should have used the spell on a Veela. There was no restriction on using the spell on non-human magical creatures that he’d ever heard of, but on the other hand, that wasn’t the sort of information usually found in casual class descriptions.
Malfoy stood up and strode away, turning his back. Harry got up and checked on the fire. It was low, but he coaxed a little more kindling into it, and it blazed away. He kept only enough of an eye to Malfoy to make sure that he stayed inside the protective circle of fireballs. He knew he wouldn’t want Harry looking at him right now.
“Fuck,” Malfoy finally whispered.
“I read once that transformation is like a drug,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on the fire. “And that was just an Animagus transformation I read about. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be forced into it to try and survive, and then know that you have to follow those instincts.”
Malfoy dropped to the ground, trembling. His wings had once again retracted through the rents in his robes to become silver tattoos on his back. Harry forced his eyes away from them. If he went on feeling the temptation to touch them, sooner or later he would.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
“The transformation. Nothing else. If you were in your right mind—the way you are right now—you would want nothing to do with me. It’s all right, Malfoy,” Harry added, when Malfoy sat there with his head drooping and didn’t turn around. “I promise, it’s all right. You’re doing what you have to.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better, Potter. Amazing, I know.”
“It’s all right,” was all Harry could think to say, and he went on feeding the fire. Malfoy finally stirred and came over to sit next to him, hands wrapped around his ankles and head still bowed. Harry cast a Warming Charm on him. He jumped.
“Why did you think I needed one?”
“Because you haven’t bothered repairing those tears in your robes where your wings came out.”
“Not much point in repairing them when you know they’re only going to come bursting out again,” Malfoy muttered. He shoved his hair out of his eyes and spent a moment staring down at his hands again. “Listen. This would be easier if you weren’t so nice.”
“You want me to threaten you and hit you with a spoon when you try to kiss me?”
“Don’t be silly. Where would you get a spoon?”
Harry laughed. Malfoy gave him a half-smile, but almost immediately turned his head away. “I mean it,” he muttered. “Most temporary mates give in with a bad grace, you know. They don’t want to be there any more than the Veela wants to be associating with them instead of its real mate, and they lie back with their lips closed and their heads turned away.”
“Really?” Harry blinked. Maybe the stories he’d heard about Veela being irresistible lovers were exaggerations. “Huh. Your kisses make me burn.”
Malfoy moaned a little and buried his head in his hands. “If you could stop saying things like that, this would be easier!”
“Sorry.” Harry paused. “But you also said that you didn’t want me to do anything that would convince the Veela I was rejecting it.”
“I know. It’s a delicate line to walk.” Malfoy worked his hands into place around his knees again. “I think it would be best if we—didn’t talk candidly about things like how my kisses make you feel, and you yield with a good grace when you need to. Let me defend you sometimes and let me feed you. If I can think of it as courting you, the Veela is less likely to think of sex.”
“Because sex comes at the end of the courtship,” Harry said, nodding. He laughed a little when Malfoy stared at him. “One of Ron’s brothers married Fleur Delacour, you prat. I don’t know as much as you do, but I know some.”
“Okay. That’s probably—well, it might be one of the reasons that I find you more tempting than I’d like.” Malfoy frowned a little. “Can you use that spell on me again if you need to? What is it?”
“The Mind-Clearing Charm? Sure. It brings someone’s own mind back if the thing that clouds it isn’t very powerful. Won’t stop the Imperius Curse cast by a really determined wizard, but most of the people who use it aren’t that determined.”
“All right. We’ll go from there.” Malfoy abruptly turned away and curled up on the faintly shining ground. “Good night, Potter.”
Harry blinked at him, but he supposed they were fed and guarded and there was no point in prolonging the conversation. “Good night, Malfoy.” He cast a Warming Charm on himself, too, and then pulled out the blankets he would sleep on. Now that Malfoy was a fully-transformed Veela, he probably drew more strength from being in contact with the odd ground.
He fell asleep wondering if he knew household spells well enough to make the tears in Malfoy’s robes around his wings less ragged.
*
It was no use.
Draco opened his eyes and growled faintly, then forced himself to his feet from what should have been a restful position and walked over to stared down at Potter.
He was breathing peacefully, wrapped in blankets and probably a Cushioning Charm, with his wand near at hand. His face wasn’t innocent the way it probably would have been before the war, or before Auror training, but still profoundly attractive. He slept easily.
Draco could not.
He settled down next to Potter, hoping that would ease the longing. When it didn’t, he sighed, tugged on some of the blankets until they sprawled out from beneath Potter, and lay down on them, curling up behind Potter’s body and holding him. The longing grew warm and sweet at once, and Draco found himself purring without being aware that he was going to.
“What—Malfoy?”
“It’s all right. The Veela just needed to hold you. Go to sleep.”
“Okay.” Potter sounded a little doubtful, but at least his ability to sleep with Draco holding him was in no doubt. His breathing had evened out within minutes. Of course, he was probably also tired from the battle and seeing Aurors he’d worked with die.
Draco closed his eyes and laid his nose against the back of Potter’s neck. The Warming Charm Potter had cast on him was gone, but he didn’t think that would be a problem in the cocoon of his mate’s radiant body heat.
Potter cared for Draco’s dignity. He cared that he was warm. He worried about his safety. He wanted to help him resist the Veela and walk a thin line no matter how dangerous or tempting it proved for him. Not because he and Draco had become friends since the war, but simply because Draco was alive and there and Potter cared about that.
He would be frighteningly easy to bond with.
Draco tightened his arms around Potter. He knew the stories of temporary mates, of the Veela who had tried to make them permanent. None of them had ever worked out. The spell was a measure to save a new Veela’s life, no more. They were only a few days away from the enclave. He would hold out.
He had to. Not only because it would be devastating to forge a bond that he knew could never be returned.
For Potter’s sake.
I can care, too.
He fell asleep to the sound of Potter’s breathing.
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Temporary Mate