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Fairest Creatures	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 22177 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-One—Free of the Danger

            “I told you they wouldn’t accept you back.”

            Harry leaned his elbow on his knee and shut his eyes and said nothing. Draco was massaging the center of his back, in between his wings, and that was something that would have relaxed Harry most of the time. But right now, he didn’t want to respond to anything Draco said or did.

            He would just sit here and try to absorb the blow, that he couldn’t do his job the way he always had before the stupid accident that had turned him into a Veela. When he’d returned, he’d thought that maybe he could owl Jared and ask whether wings and allure would prevent him from doing paperwork.

            But he hadn’t become an Auror to do paperwork and nothing else. Harry had to admit he would probably give up on the job in boredom even if Jared said yes.

            Draco’s hand pressed down harder and he bent to whisper in Harry’s ear. “I want you here with me, listening to me, paying attention to me. I’m the only one who can make you feel better.”

            Harry reared, flapping his wings, hard enough to make Draco lose his grasp and fall back on the bed. Harry wheeled around and demanded, “How can you make me feel better when you’re telling me I should have known better?”

            “I didn’t put it like that—”

            “It’s still an ‘I told you so.’” Harry folded his wings back again, sick at heart. At the moment, he didn’t need more reminders of the reason the Aurors had rejected him. “It’s still something that means you were right, I was wrong, and I should have known better because I’m stupid.”

            Draco got his hands beneath him and blinked a little at Harry. “I never said that.”

            “You didn’t have to.”

            “I never meant that, either, no matter what I said.” Draco watched him for a second longer, and then began to croon beneath his breath.

            Harry folded his arms and wrapped his wings around his head, which made it a lot harder to hear Draco. He knew exactly what Draco was doing. Calm Harry down, and he could stay. Since they were in Harry’s bedroom, he was the one who would have to leave otherwise.

            And admit he was making things worse. Draco never wanted to admit he was wrong, or do anything he didn’t want to.

            Well, he wasn’t wrong.

            But that just made it worse, the constant reminder that Draco had been right about the Aurors not accepting Harry back again. His wings had cost him a lot, and at the moment, what they’d brought him in return didn’t seem worth it.

            He would have left the room himself, but Draco moved around to stand in front of him with his wings extended and his eyes locked on Harry. Harry could have shoved at him or leaped over his head, but that would leave him in real danger of knocking Draco over or injuring his own wings. He hesitated, and Draco moved towards him.

            “I’m sorry,” Draco whispered. “Not about being right, but that they won’t take you back. I think you should speak to Granger and see whether she can challenge them on that one, too. She likes fighting for creature rights. She would have your back.”

            “She would have my back because she’s my friend,” Harry muttered. “Not because I’m a Veela and she likes fighting for creature rights.”

            But he let Draco embrace him and rub his back until he felt warm relaxation flowing through his muscles. Draco led him back to the bed, and Harry climbed on it and started to curl up. Draco coaxed him and pulled at him and purred at him until Harry was stretched out on his stomach with his wings drooping off to the sides of the bed.

            “There’s something I wanted to try before, but I never felt we were close enough,” Draco murmured into his ear. “Can you—yes, ease over, and lift your wings a little.” He moved so he was kneeling in the middle of Harry’s back. It should have hurt, but maybe Draco’s bones had changed and grown lighter since he became a Veela. Harry suspected his had.

            That’s just another thing that would make me a bloody awful Auror. I hit someone and he doesn’t go down the way he was supposed to. Instead, my bones break and I’m writhing around and screeching like some bird…

            “Harry. You didn’t tell me if I could.”

            “Suddenly you need permission?” Harry muttered.

            “You could have hurled me out of the way before, or told me to go. I would have obeyed either command.”

            Telling Draco to go hadn’t actually occurred to Harry. He wrestled for a second with his thoughts, and then grunted and spread his wings. Draco touched the edges of them, rubbing soft feathers between his fingers.

            “Good,” he said. “Now spread them out. The feathers, not the wings,” he added, when Harry instinctively extended his pinions. “Just the outer feathers, too. Can you do that? I know you were working on it with Professor Helios the other day.”

            “That was probably the class you skipped because you were at the Manor preparing the jungle room,” Harry grumbled, but even that memory helped, the image of the room where they’d first bathed in the light overlaying some of the harsh reality around him. When he concentrated hard enough, the feathers spread out and he felt Draco reward him with the press of a knee into his back.

            “Good, very good,” Draco whispered to him. “You don’t know how happy you make me, Harry.”

            Harry blinked a little, lifted his shoulders to try and feel what was pressed between them even more than the knee, and then nodded. He was pretty sure that, yes, that was Draco’s erection. “I might have some idea.”

            “Feel this,” Draco whispered, and then he reached out and called some sort of Veela magic to his hands and ran his fingertips between Harry’s feathers.

            Harry arched, his mouth open but no sound bleeding out. His eyes fluttered shut in the next moment, the way his feathers were fluttering in between Draco’s fingers. Warm sparks collected in his chest and showered down towards his groin, which he lowered and rubbed against the bed.

            Draco chuckled in delight into his ear and murmured, “Let’s not do that just yet.” Then he curled his arm around Harry’s chest and began stroking the feathers of his wings with just one hand.

            Harry floated there, wanting more friction than he was getting but also content with the marvelous pleasure that rained through him as Draco’s hands moved. It was an odd feeling. How could he want more but also have no desires because he had all he wanted?

            Then Draco crooned.

            It hit Harry much like Harry’s Shriek probably hit Draco. Harry lifted his head and twisted it from side to side, lips parted. One of Draco’s fingers slid between his lips and he sucked on it, hard.

            From the way Draco sucked in his breath back and pressed the erection Harry had already felt between Harry’s shoulders, he at least wasn’t alone. Harry tried to roll over and sit up. Hell with Draco touching his wings anymore. He wanted to see what they could do when they were together.

            But Draco, with some flapping from his own wings, maintained his position and hissed into Harry’s ear, harsh and tempting. “Lie back down. Let me touch you some more. I promise, you’re going to like this.”

            “I like this already,” Harry countered. “And now I want to give my mate the same pleasure.”

            From the way Draco’s hands went slack, Harry thought that would work. But when he tried to rise up again, Draco pushed him down as sternly as before. “Wait,” he said, before he crooned again.

            This time, the sound curled around Harry like chains of gold. He found himself lying down, drifting in the same semi-coherent state as before, and this time Draco’s hands were delving even deeper, sliding in and holding his feathers up as if he wanted to display them to an audience. Harry kicked without meaning to, and again Draco fluttered over the motion and came down to sit in the middle of his back.

            “No,” Draco said. “Let me do this for you.”

            After shifting and thinking about that for a minute, Harry decided to allow it. He lowered his head and accepted the massage Draco gave his feathers, then his shoulders, then the nape of his neck. He was relaxed as far as his muscles went but charged at the same time, drifting in the middle of what felt like warm water.

            “Good,” Draco said breathlessly. At least he’s breathless, Harry thought, somewhere in the part of his brain that could still be smug. “Now let me get my fingers into your feathers again…”

            Harry opened his mouth to ask how he could do that even more than he already was, but Draco showed him. He manipulated Harry’s wings until they must be rearing on either side of him like arches. Then he reached up and touched the top of Harry’s primaries, and ran his fingers down in one smooth motion.

            Harry screeched. Or crooned, or shouted, or something. He didn’t even know the name for the noise that came out of his mouth, the way he didn’t know the name for the pleasure that shot through him.

            It was a blaze of light, a streaking comet, a radiance that formed a crown around his head. And it was everywhere. Most of Harry felt the way only his groin felt when he came. He tightened his hands on the edge of the bed and thrashed, beating his wings, not even thinking about where Draco would be.

            Apparently Draco had found a safe place, because Harry felt his arms around him and heard his pleased chirping in his ear. It took a long, long moment before Harry could really focus on that and turn his head to nuzzle Draco’s arm in thanks, but when he could, Draco chirped even louder.

            Harry was exhausted, his wings bedraggled, but he’d felt like that sometimes before in much less pleasant circumstances, and he’d always got back on his feet. He concentrated on his legs for a second, and then his arms. They would both bear his weight. He sat up and reached for Draco.

            Draco blinked at him, even as he lay back down on the bed next to Harry, almost cautiously. “Most people would be unconscious after something like that,” he said, peering at Harry.

            “Well, most people aren’t me,” Harry said, and he didn’t think that fatigue blurred and twisted the words as they came out, even though Draco was looking at him in a funny way. Harry nuzzled the side of Draco’s neck and reached up to touch his forehead, his fringe, his cheeks. Draco watched him with wondering eyes.

            What Harry really wanted to do was return the favor. But he didn’t know if he could have controlled that kind of Veela magic even on a good day. He thought it was either a special power of Draco’s or something Draco knew how to do because he’d spent more time as a Veela than Harry had.

            Still, that didn’t mean he was helpless. He slid his hand into Draco’s trousers, and Draco actually spasmed and gave half a croon and grabbed his wrist.

            “You don’t have to do that.”

            “Maybe not, but I want to,” Harry said, staring into Draco’s eyes, feeling the cooling stickiness in his own pants. Yes, he’d come, although the pleasure had been so strong Harry almost hadn’t noticed. And he wanted to return the favor. He slid his fingers in a loose ring down Draco to his base, and watched the way he arched.

            Not as strongly as I reacted, but still nice, Harry thought, proud of himself, and then slowly slid his hand back up and acted like he would take it out. “Unless you want me to stop, of course,” he added.

            “I don’t want you to stop,” Draco murmured, and slid sideways, his head almost hanging off the bed, sighing when Harry rubbed some of the wetness collecting in his palm back into Draco’s erection.

            It was wonderful to watch Draco like this, little breaths escaping his parted lips, his closed eyes darting around like he was dreaming. It made the aches and pains of the morning retreat until Harry had a hard time remembering how upset he’d been when he came into the bedroom.

            If he went on thinking about that, though, he probably would get more upset, and upset Draco, too. Harry shook his head and went back to holding and twisting, stroking and soothing.

            Draco was warmth embodied, glowing with it. The light had started to gather at the tips of his wings, and it spread onto Harry as he wanked Draco. Maybe it had been there all along, but Harry only noticed it when it started to mark his boots and his hair, and then spark and dance along the tips of his feathers.

            It was wonderful to watch Draco by the reflected glow of that light, too.

            When Draco finally arched up under his hand and came, Harry blinked in surprise, and stilled his hand. Draco didn’t seem to notice or mind. Harry had lost track of the fact that he was trying to make Draco climax. It was—something natural when it happened, but watching him was better.

            Draco cuddled close to him when he was done. Harry curled up and let his head rest on Draco’s chest, listening to his breathing.

            But Draco didn’t drop off to sleep right away, as Harry had more or less assumed he would. He kept lying there and breathing steadily, and Harry had to ask the question that now buzzed in the back of his mind and prevented him from going to sleep, even if asking it would cause problems. “I thought you might want to kill the Aurors when I came in and told you what they said. Why didn’t you?”

            Draco pressed his lips to the back of Harry’s neck. “Because what I really wanted was to make you feel better,” he said softly. “And I remembered what you told me when I tried to go after the Healers. Hurting them wouldn’t make you feel better.”

            Harry nodded. He had said the same thing when Draco went after the Dursleys. “So you made me feel good instead.”

            “Mmm.” Draco smirked at him and slid a long, slow wing down Harry’s flank, making his skin ache and tingle. “And it went well, didn’t it?”

            “Of course it did.” Harry closed his eyes. He had to say something, and he hoped the warmth and the light, which was now playing with their reflections in the mirror visible through the bathroom door, would soften his words if he said the wrong thing. “That was the first time I wanted—another man.”

            “I know.”

            Harry blinked. “Because you never heard any reports about me being gay before?”

            “No. Because that’s one of my gifts, one of the smaller ones.” Draco’s fingers sank into Harry’s hair and raked through it almost the way they had through the feathers of his wings. “I can tell—sexual things about other Veela. I can tell you who’s a virgin and who just had sex and who will have a hard time finding a mate because they have certain very specific tastes.”

            Harry buried his head in Draco’s chest. Draco snorted. “What’s the matter now?”

            “Is that part of your gift? To tell when your mate’s upset about something sexual?” Harry muttered.

            “I never experienced it before.” Draco poked him sharply in the ribs, making Harry flare his wings in instinctive defense. “A goblin could tell you’re upset right now, Harry. Tell me.”

            “I’m jealous of the people you read those things about before I got here,” Harry muttered into the crook of Draco’s collarbone, where he’d moved his mouth. “Even though it had nothing to do with me, and you would have just as much basis being jealous of someone else I used the Shriek on. I’m sorry.”

            “I rejoice in hearing you say that you’re jealous,” Draco whispered. “That’s the sort of Veela I am, if you like—beyond all the gifts and the fact that I like having you as my mate, I like knowing that my mate doesn’t want to share me, even in something as small as this.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Harry, embarrassed despite himself. He shifted and sat up, shook out his wings, and arranged himself more comfortably, wings wrapped around Draco and no longer crushed against the bed. “I don’t want to sound childish about it, but I don’t.”

            “You can sound childish all you like,” Draco said, his hand gliding up the side of Harry’s head and around in a spiral that ended at his pulse. “I don’t mind.”

            Harry wanted to say that he did, but even that wasn’t strictly true. He minded only until he heard Draco say he didn’t, and then all his protests collapsed into dust.

            When they finally fell asleep, Harry didn’t know, but he knew it was together, tangled around each other with feathers blowing in the puff of each other’s breaths, and that was enough for him.



*

            SickPuppy: Thanks! And I think Harry wants to spend his life taking care of and saving people; it’s one of the things that makes his career choice important to him.

            The Healers would never agree on a color unless they got to examine Harry more closely, though. Even if they agreed it was cerulean, is it dark cerulean, or pale cerulean? ;)

            SP777: Harry needs a more action-oriented job, I think. At least, this Harry does.
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Fairest Creatures