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
- 23
- 24
- 25
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Four—Distressed

            Harry shut the book Draco had got him thoughtfully. It explained more than he had thought it could about the influence and the situation he and Draco were in.

            It also made him feel like less of a freak. Not everyone always accepted a Veela choosing them easily and joyfully. Some of them had problems like his. Some of them were in love with others and didn’t want to forsake those feelings, even if they were unrequited. Some had hated the Veela because of personal grudges in the past, or because of the endless feuds between pure-blood families that seemed to occupy most of wizarding history when Harry read it in detail.

            But most of them had accepted the Veela in the end. The book was ominously silent about what happened when they didn’t, but Harry refused to worry. First of all, he knew Draco wouldn’t die if it turned out that Harry couldn’t go through with this.

            Second, he had every intention of going through with this.

            He sat quietly in his drawing room in front of the fire for long minutes, half-thinking, half-wondering when Draco would return from the Ministry. He had told Harry he was going to bribe only a few people today, so the rumor would have time to grow and wouldn’t look artificially pushed.

            It surprised Harry how much he already missed Draco.

            I reckon that’s what helps make up for the Veela being under the power of his chosen, he thought, as he rose to his feet with a stretch. We miss them just as much. We want them back.

            Harry didn’t know if that came entirely from the influence, or because Draco had chosen him and that was flattering—and, now, more exciting than it had seemed before—or because of those growing romantic feelings he had for Draco, or maybe just because he wanted to have those feelings for Draco. But he no longer wanted to analyze every feeling he had to death, either. Certain things were going to happen. They were or weren’t going to hurt. He could accept that.

            He turned around and looked thoughtfully at the drawing room. The huge bed still sat there, and as magnificent as it looked, Harry didn’t want it taking up room out here. He waved his wand, shrank it, and then floated it behind him as he went into his bedroom.

            The bed there was nothing bad, but nothing special either. After a moment’s hesitation to make sure that the walls of the room were actually spacious enough to contain the huge bed, he shrank his own and put it against the wall, out of the way, while he floated the huge bed into its place and unshrank it.

            Harry winced at the way it looked as it stretched out. “Oh, sure, it’s pretty, but it makes the rest of my house look shabby,” he muttered.

            Arms folded around him from behind, and Draco’s voice murmured into his ear, “That doesn’t matter. No place that housed you and protected you in the past could ever look shabby.”

            Harry started to reach behind him, to curve his arm around Draco’s neck, and then managed to retract it, because touching him like that was the beginning of an Auror move meant to snap Dark wizards’ necks. “Draco,” he breathed instead, leaning against him. “Don’t do that again, please.”

            “I’m sorry,” Draco said, words already edging into a croon. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Your instincts are so good I thought you’d already heard me.” He kissed the edge of Harry’s neck and led him towards the bed. Harry noted wryly that, despite his words, he seemed to choose the fancy bed as a place to sit in preference to the two chairs against the wall.

            Although maybe it’s for what a bed represents to him, rather than because it’s the fanciest place in the room.

            “Harry? Do you forgive me?”

            “Yes, of course,” Harry said quickly. The books could explain it, but he was still uncomfortable with the power he had over Draco, at least when Draco looked at him with lost eyes like that. Draco relaxed at once this time and started stroking Harry’s stomach, his hand edging beneath his shirt. Harry leaned on Draco’s wrist and stopped that. They had serious things to discuss. “How did the bribes go?”

            “Very well.” Draco took the hint and eased his hand out from under the shirt to massage Harry’s shoulders instead. Harry felt a bit embarrassed to remember he’d never taken the grey cloak off, but if anything, Draco’s touch was heavy with approval as he stroked Harry. “Two former Slytherins and one former Ravenclaw, all in different Departments, and I’m fairly sure that no one saw me enter or leave the areas. And I learned some interesting things about Laurent. Apparently he was considered a bastard on the basis of the people he dated before you, possessive and controlling.”

            “Imagine that,” Harry said, and tried not to feel that he was enclosed in a second skin that was too small because he was talking about Laurent. “I had that impression, yes, but because I loved him at the time, I told myself that no one was perfect and tried to ignore it. Besides, since I was immune to his allure, I wasn’t really worried.”

            Draco’s arms tightened, but he said nothing for long enough to give Harry the impression that he was thinking furiously. Harry sat still and let him think, noting in silent amusement that if he shifted too far one way or the other, Draco shifted to keep up with him. He didn’t seem to notice it, any more than he noticed the weight of his arm around Harry’s shoulder.

            “Would you mind talking about what he was like some more?” Draco asked at last, his voice rough. “I can understand if you don’t want to, but I think I need to know. I want to avoid his mistakes.”

            “There are some of his mistakes that you can’t avoid, from what I understand from the books.” Harry kept his voice calm, the voice that he used when he interrogated reluctant witnesses. He was not about to flinch and cower in front of Draco. He was going to face his fears. “Some of them are just part of being a Veela.”

            “Rape isn’t, no matter what they told you.” Draco’s voice had deepened, and Harry could feel Draco’s chest throbbing against him with the sound of it.

            “I know that, now.” Harry faced Draco and looked into his eyes. They were glassy and silvery, he found, as usual when Draco was in the grip of the Veela part of himself, and his hands trembled where they rested on Harry. “But do you really need to know this because it’s—well, a need? Or do you just want to? Because I don’t talk about this kind of thing for fun.”

*

            Draco suppressed his immediate reaction, which was that he would never ask Harry to talk about something like this for “fun” and Harry had once again underestimated what it meant to be a Veela.

            But he silenced himself in the face of Harry’s wide eyes and clenched hands and white face. Yes, this was still hard for Harry to talk about. It always would be, even if it didn’t touch directly on the rape. If Harry was making an effort to understand why Draco wanted to talk about it, he should make some effort in the other direction, as well.

            Draco breathed until he felt the tightness in his chest—the tightness of anger, that he could be accused of trying to hurt his chosen that way—loosen. Then he smiled, with a deliberately wry twist of his lips, and said, “Both want and need, I think. I want to know what Laurent is like so that I can understand how he damaged you even more than I already do. And I need to know so that I can avoid repeating his mistakes. I definitely wouldn’t ask you to talk about it for fun.” This time, the offended growl came out despite himself.

            Harry didn’t seem to notice. He examined his hands as if they held the answer instead. Then he looked up into Draco’s face again, and his hands had relaxed from their tight fists, though his eyes were wider than ever. Draco was starting to regret his request, and he would have lain Harry down beneath him and bitten his neck until he forgot about it, if he hadn’t thought Harry would be even angrier about that.

            “All right,” Harry whispered. “But understand, I don’t think I’m being entirely fair about him. My view of him is retroactively tainted, so things that didn’t bother me when he did them bother me now.”

            Draco couldn’t respond for a long moment. Then he managed to untangle his tongue from his teeth and move his dropped jaw. “Only you would think that you were being unfair to your rapist,” he said. “And I love you for it.”

            Harry twitched and looked as if he would have loved to bury his head in blankets so Draco couldn’t get a good look at his face. Instead, he touched Draco’s cheek with clumsy fingers and kept his hand there for a moment before he pulled it away and took a deep breath.

            “I knew Laurent was controlling before I started dating him,” Harry said. “But I really thought I was safe. He’d never tried to rape anyone; there wasn’t even a rumor of that. I knew I was immune to the allure, the only way I thought a Veela could control someone. And I fought back and stood up to him, which most of the people he dated didn’t do.” His voice went thick with crawling bitterness. “I thought I was different. Of course. Everyone thinks that.”

            Draco couldn’t think of anything to do except put his arms around Harry. Harry leaned towards him and sighed. Draco took a moment to absorb nothing more than the scent of his skin and the sound of his breathing before Harry spoke again.

            “I noticed he was getting worse as the Blazing Season came, but I didn’t know the half of it. Fidelity charms on me, hexes and potions in the food, and he apparently warned anyone he thought had an interest in me away. I wondered why several of the Aurors suddenly stopped talking to me. But—well, along with not knowing most of this until later, I just thought it was natural. He was a Veela. It was what they did. You did.”

            “I will never be like that,” Draco said.

            Harry looked up and shook his head. “I’ve been reading those books you got me. Jealousy is a natural emotion, they said. I don’t think you’ll be able to keep from feeling it over me.”

            “I will never be like that,” Draco repeated, and took Harry’s head in his hands to ensure he was paying attention. “I know that you think certain excesses are reasonable in a Veela, but I’m here to change your mind and show you they’re not. Yes, I could be jealous, but I’ll never try to control you with potions in your food or charms.”

            “Even jealousy by itself could be enough to set me off, I’m afraid.” Harry shrugged. “I really don’t know, because so far it hasn’t happened, and I won’t know until it does. And you know that I can’t eat food your house-elves cooked yet.”

            Draco was starting to wonder if he should have asked Harry to talk about Laurent. He seemed to be sliding further into despair as he did.

            “We’ll work things out,” he said. “You’ll see. It won’t matter what obstacles are in our way. We have to keep on.”

            “I know that,” Harry said, his fingers clutching down for a moment on Draco’s sleeve. “I just want to forewarn you that I’ll be difficult to deal with.”

            Draco was laughing before he thought about whether or not it was a good idea, deep, bubbling laughter that took all the tension in his chest and dissolved it. Harry started to smile, seeming uncertain of whether he should join in or not until Draco leaned down towards him and whispered, “You, difficult? I certainly never would have guessed from all the difficulties we’ve met and downed so far.”

            Harry smiled, and then leaned up and caught Draco’s mouth in a fierce kiss. Draco let his mouth drop open in a second and tightened his hold on Harry, leaning in towards him, willing to lay him on the bed if Harry would cooperate with that. But Harry put up resistance, pushing against his chest, even grabbing Draco’s jaw and prying it open so that he could control the kiss.

            Draco, quivering with tension, managed to yield to the point that he could stroke Harry’s lips with his tongue and do nothing else while Harry plundered his mouth. When he finally pulled back, dazed and triumphant, Draco sighed and leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder in turn. Harry stroked his hair as he took up the story.

            “As we got closer to the Blazing Season, he got worse and worse. Didn’t want me going anywhere alone, didn’t want me visiting Ron and Hermione—he claimed he caught Ron eying my arse one night—and didn’t want me getting into any dangerous situations. I asked him how I was supposed to avoid that, as an Auror, but he didn’t answer me.”

            Draco swallowed back his own complaint. It was something they would have to address, but Harry was right that he wouldn’t simply give up being an Auror, and Laurent had been foolish to expect him to do so.

            “And then the Blazing Season started.” Harry’s words were low, quick, and rough now, and Draco listened carefully to separate them and not miss one piece of the tale. “He tried the allure on me. I laughed at him. He pushed me further, and I was Veela-struck. And I just lay there and let him—”

            This isn’t going to happen. Draco grew his claws, seized Harry’s shoulders, and pressed down until he almost cut skin. Harry choked back whatever he had been going to say and blinked at him. His face was too calm, the kind of mask Draco had seen his father stretch over his emotions after Narcissa was attacked.

            “You didn’t just lie there,” Draco said. “I know what being Veela-struck means, probably better than almost anyone who’s not a Veela except you does. And it’s a miracle that you broke free and didn’t stay his passive toy for the rest of your life. It’s amazing that you’ve recovered as far as you have. Never think that you didn’t do enough, or that you somehow caused this and deserved it. Can you do that for me?”

            Harry pulled up a smile from somewhere, although the smile pointed sideways and was too dark. “So I should stop panicking over a Veela commanding me because a Veela commands me to?”

            “Damn it,” Draco said, and didn’t know how much he felt the words, except that he had to take his hands away from Harry so that he could curl his claws in his lap.

            Harry laughed in turn, bending his head so that he hid the strange smile and shaking his head. “Told you I’d be difficult,” he muttered.

            Draco took a deep breath, told himself he had handled far harder things than this—like the panic Harry had fled in after he saw Draco’s wings for the first time—and recovered. “But you know that being Veela-struck isn’t your fault,” he said.

            “I’ll probably think that way, for a while.” Harry shrugged as though he hadn’t just said one of the most horrible things Draco had ever heard. “It was hard to fight my way out from under it, but I managed it. Why couldn’t I have managed it earlier? Why was I susceptible to it in the first place, if I’m not vulnerable to the allure?”

            “It’s like the reason some people can fight off minor pain curses, but not the Cruciatus,” Draco said, with a smile that he hoped hid the depth of his feeling. “Because one spell is deeper and stronger than the other. Being Veela-struck is a deeper matter than being affected by the allure. There’s no way that we could say Laurent made those people I chose in the Ministry Veela-struck, because there would have been a lot more evidence. The allure is a nice lie.”

            “Who knows?” Harry lifted his head and spoke more brightly, as though trying to put his half-told story decisively behind them. “He might have touched some of them with the allure. He said at the trial that he had done what he could to keep people away from me and influence them not to interfere in our relationship.”

            “I’m not going to do that,” Draco said. He felt he would get weary of repeating these reassurances to Harry, but there was nothing else he could do except hope to imprint the idea that he was on Harry’s side, not Laurent’s, by repetition, until Harry accepted it. “I would never influence your friends with the allure.”

            “I know,” Harry said. “Because you want to keep me, and I would leave you if I found out you did that.”

            Draco decided, very carefully, that he wasn’t going to tell Harry about using the allure to make Ramsay pay attention to him. “What do you want to do today?” he asked. “It’s barely noon. We can eat lunch, and then we have the afternoon free.”

            “And the next eleven afternoons, since I took a fortnight off,” Harry added. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it.

            Draco cocked his head. Perhaps it was time to tackle this, in turn. “You know that you have to find some meaning in your life apart from me and the Auror work. What do you like to do?”

*

            Harry closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. While he was relieved they weren’t talking about Laurent anymore, he had dreaded this question almost as much. Draco wasn’t going to like the answer.

            If he had learned anything in the past few days, though, it was that he should tell the truth.

            “Being an Auror is a full-time job,” he said quietly, opening his eyes and looking at Draco. “And the free time I spend researching other cases or with my friends, or with you lately. That’s all.”

            Draco’s nostrils flared, and his claws twitched once, as if he were going to reach out, grip Harry, and pin him to the bed. Or maybe that was just Harry’s imagination and memory combining, because Draco seemed to gain control of himself with a deep breath and a smile. “How long has it been since you were at a Quidditch game?”

            Harry blinked. “I think Quidditch is sort of childish now. Don’t you?”

            Draco struggled against it, but there was a flash of pity in his eyes. Harry saw it, and there was no use Draco trying to hide it. He sat up, indignant, but Draco shook his head and touched his jaw until Harry relaxed.

            “Quidditch is fun, Harry,” Draco said. “Now that you’re not working as hard as you used to, you’ll need to find something to do or go mad. No, I don’t think you can spend every moment studying or watching Quidditch. But it’s a start. Now. I asked you a question. How long has it been since you were at a game?”

            “Since I was in training, I think,” Harry said. “Maybe before then.” Prodding the part of his mind that used to play Quidditch and care about it felt like prodding a loose tooth with his tongue. “I don’t—Draco, it’s not that I won’t go if you want to, but I just can’t muster up any enthusiasm for it.”

            “Not yet,” Draco said. “It’s the first idea I had, and maybe not the best. But we’ll go, and you’ll see if you still like it. All right?”

            Harry nodded reluctantly, but did ask, “How do you think we’re going to be able to waltz into a game and just pick up the tickets?”

            Draco smiled. “There are other advantages to being a Malfoy than having fabulous good looks, Veela heritage, and the money to spend on bribes. On my suggestion, my parents cultivated contacts in other directions once the Ministry started closing doors on them. My mother is good friends with several Quidditch coaches who would be delighted to accommodate her son with tickets.” He paused, as if consulting an invisible schedule in his head, and then nodded. “The Falcons are playing the Cannons today, and there’s a smaller game between two amateur teams as well. Which would you like to go to?”

            Before Harry could respond, an owl tapped frantically against the window. Harry turned around, concerned. The one thing he could imagine was that Ron had got wounded on a case without him, or that Hermione and Rose were in some sort of trouble.

            When he opened the window, though, the owl flew straight to Draco. Harry saw the way his mouth pinched before he opened the envelope, and crossed the room to lean supportively against his side. Maybe he couldn’t do more than that, but he would do all he could.

            Draco read the letter, and his face went white. His hand shook so badly that the paper fluttered towards the floor. Harry picked it up and would have folded it without reading it, but Draco looked at him with dead eyes and shook his head.

            Harry raised his eyebrows. Draco nodded towards the letter, movement wild, jerky, as though he were fighting demons in his head. Harry thought himself prepared when he began to read; something must have happened to Draco’s parents.

            That wasn’t it, although the letter was in the flowing hand that Harry recognized from various thank-you notes as Narcissa Malfoy’s. And he wasn’t prepared. There was no way that he could have been.

            Dearest, Pansy Parkinson firecalled the Manor looking for you. She seemed highly excited and mentioned the name of Laurent, at which I drew her out. She said that she had found ‘the Veela witness’ and could simply interview this witness in order to find out what had happened to Laurent. I thought this concerned you and Mr. Potter and decided to inform you.

            Harry knew what that meant in a minute. The Veela witness at the Wizengamot’s trial, the one who had denied that it was possible for a Veela to abuse their powers the way Harry said Laurent had abused his, and glared at Harry with contempt while the Wizengamot decided to convict Laurent.

            “I’m going to be sick,” he said thickly, and managed to make it to the bathroom before he threw up most of his breakfast.

            Draco was at his back, the silky slide of feathers against his hair telling Harry that he had spread his wings before Harry’s world narrowed down to his cramping stomach and his burning mouth and the stink he was emptying out of both.

            And the memories. Oh, God, the memories seared his mind worse than the bile seared his throat.

            It was some time before he could calm down enough to hear Draco’s murmured words. “It’s all right. I will take care of everything. I will do everything. It will be all right.”

            And Harry, pained and empty and horribly afraid, leaned back and let Draco take him in his arms and wings.

*

            Lady_of_Clunn: Approaching storm is a good term for it, although I don’t know if you envisioned the form it would take.

            polka dot: I think it can be creepy, although Draco doesn’t tend to change much past his claws and wings. The more profound changes wait for the Blazing Season.

            nette: Thank you! I think you will have more reasons to curse Laurent after this chapter.

            Dragonsnurse: Probably not. Harry took some time to learn all those spells, and he would be worried that other people wouldn’t perform them right or with the same level of skill.

            HeartStar: Thank you! And Draco will be careful not to let the rumor get out of hand—although if it painted Laurent darker than he is, that might be a good thing for them.

            Night the Storyteller: Draco and Harry will probably approach others later, when they have less to worry about. And Narcissa and Lucius are supportive in the next part of the story.

            SP777: It will have to wait its turn. Something else is busy blowing up in their faces right now.

            Redhead92: Thank you! But I do hope you pass your exams.

            xikum: Thank you!

            Lucius and Narcissa contributed Veela heritage to their son, but they do not have it themselves—not strong enough to manifest wings and claws, use the allure, go through the Blazing Season, etc. Thus Lucius could not be influenced by it unless you believe that genetic heritage that’s not expressed can influence someone.
- 23
- 24
- 25
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

Veela-Struck