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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.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty-Four—In a Mess With Wings

            “How do we do this?”

            Harry had to tear his lips away from Draco’s to speak, which made Draco whine in frustration. On the other hand, Harry was about ready to shriek with frustration, and he thought that meant he had priority.

            They had tumbled onto the bed. That had gone pretty well. They’d rolled around patting and kissing and stroking and nipping, and Draco had told Harry in gasps what he liked, and if Harry was too shy to say that aloud, well, he’d gripped Draco’s wrist and steered his hand to several places, and that seemed to serve well in the absence of words.

            But then Harry had wanted to put Draco on his back so he could suck him. Or maybe start to get him ready for something else. Harry hadn’t known which. The important thing was, he had wanted Draco on his back.

            Only the moment he tried to put him there, Draco’s wings flared out, and Draco rolled to the side. Even that was uncomfortable, though, because he was lying with one wing pinned beneath him. And then Draco flared his wings back, and that would have been okay, except that Harry got a mouthful of feathers when he tried to kiss him.

            “How do Veela do this?” Harry demanded, staring at Draco. He tried to picture other ways. The problem was, he would suffer the same pain as Draco if he lay on his side or on his back, and the last time when he’d been on his stomach and Draco had crouched over him was as awkward as all hell.

            Draco laughed and kissed him, his wings flapping slowly around him. Harry reached up to push one away, but Draco did it for him, his eyes dark with amusement and his hand stretching out to let his fingers play over Harry’s cheeks. Harry finally relaxed as he felt the soothing warmth come through Draco’s hand.

            And the light they had gained in Malfoy Manor, their courtship gift, was shining around them, too. It was hard to be disconcerted or upset when it was there, Harry had found.

            “Shhh,” Draco breathed. “Did you think that Veela didn’t have a solution for this? Or two mates could never have sex with each other?”

            “If we have to do it with you on your stomach all the time—”

            “There’s also the option of you on your stomach,” Draco pointed out, his voice sparking with challenge. The warmth stopped coming through the hand he had on Harry’s cheek.

            Harry opened his eyes and kissed Draco again, a little desperately. Draco gave in only until Harry tried to push him back. Then he shook his head and sat up.

            “There’s another way. Unless you’re sure that you wouldn’t rather have me on my stomach for the first time, because that would probably be a little more comfortable for the both of us?”

            Harry’s wings rattled as he realized what Draco was implying about the first time, and what he intended to do. But he nodded. “I’m sure. I want to look into your face. Maybe not later, but this time.”

            Draco’s voice thickened as he sighed, his wings spreading out a little. “You do know how to be seductive when you want to, Harry Potter.”

            Harry blinked and then gave Draco an uncertain smile, hoping that was a good thing. He didn’t know what was seductive about the pure truth, since he’d never tried to seduce someone before.

            “There’s a way.” Draco stood up and floated gracefully to the floor, letting his wings help him. “But we need to take off our clothes before we try it. It sure as hell won’t work if we’re in the middle of it when we start.”

            Harry went to work with his hands and a will. Draco did sigh and throw back his head when Harry paused to nibble on his shoulder in the middle of undressing him, though. But again he pressed his hands down on the back of Harry’s neck and shook his head when Harry mindlessly tried to shove him towards the bed.

            “Later, Harry. Are you listening?”

            Harry pulled his head back with a pout, and noticed the way Draco flushed while he stared at him in interest. Something else to explore later, probably, along with the seductive effects of truth.

            But in the meantime, Harry’s cock and desire were both getting to the edge of recklessness. He made Draco wince and hiss as he pulled his pants off, and kissed his hip in apology. Then he hesitated. It would certainly also work to have Draco sit on the edge of the bed, his wings raised up so no trailing feathers got pinched, and have Harry kneel between his legs…

            “Later,” Draco said, in a voice so amused it would have infuriated Harry once.

            But now he was only grateful that Draco was so in tune with him. He smiled at him and sat down on the edge of the bed himself when Draco told him to, his wings flaring and flexing and relaxing and crimping. Draco stroked his feathers for a moment, letting the warmth flow through his hand, then took up his wand.

            “We’ll do it other ways other times,” he promised. “But right now, I can’t wait.” And he cast a spell Harry had never heard before, while Harry blinked and tried to look intelligent and like he knew what Draco was talking about.

            A second later, Draco gasped and bent at the waist. Harry thought for a second that it was a spell to make Draco feel pleasure, and his jealousy surged. But Draco shook his head and turned his back, wings lifting again, and Harry saw the gleaming wetness around the—the thing he would soon put his cock in.

            “Oh,” he breathed, and reached out a hand before he could stop himself, trailing a single fingernail through the slickness of the conjured lube.

            “I thought it was a good idea,” Draco said. “Because some things need to be easier for the first time, since others won’t.” He turned around, wings slowly flapping, and taking on that edge of light that they were almost never without, now.

            Harry took a second to lean back, at least until his own wings started protesting, and really look at him. Draco was longer and leaner than Harry had expected; he didn’t look as tall as he really was with clothes on. Or maybe that was partially the wings that crowned him and swept around his head, bright and spiky.

            Draco had a few scars that Harry thought might be from the war, or the Sectumsempra spell. When he touched them, though, there was no blame in Draco’s voice, only a violent shudder of pleasure.

            “Now, come on,” Draco gasped at last, and maneuvered him back a little. Harry moved as easily as he could, finally sitting with his legs folded and his wings raised away from the bed.

            Then Draco climbed up and carefully arranged himself, and Harry knew what he was going to do.

            “Oh, bloody hell.”

            Draco smiled and sank down onto his lap, his smile fading as he adjusted to the burn of Harry’s cock going into him. Harry had to grab his own hand in his teeth. It was strange, and the strangeness of it mingled with the good feelings, until he felt as if he might burst out swearing.

            “Good,” Draco blurted at last, and then began to move forwards, his hands reaching out to hang onto Harry’s shoulders. Harry grabbed his elbows, and felt a soft tickling touch on his legs as Draco’s wings moved out behind him. He looked more like a butterfly than a bird now, with the position he had to hold them in.

            “Are you sure that’s comfortable?”

            “A little late now for guilt, Harry.” Draco opened his eyes. They had gone so shiny a silver that they looked metallic. “And yes, we can work on it later, but for now…” He paused, and then a pulse of warmth ran through Harry that was like the time when Draco had slid his fingers between Harry’s feathers.

            “Okay,” Harry hissed, and bowed his head, still frantically shivering. “Right, then. Here we go.”

            He began to thrust into Draco, and Draco moved with him, and they rocked hard enough at first almost to fall off the edge of the bed. Harry beat his wings and whacked Draco in the side of the head when he tried instinctively to keep himself from tumbling to the floor, and Draco rolled his eyes in a way more eloquent than any lecture and pushed with his heels and primaries.

            In short order they were back in the right place, and Draco pushed the pace along when he squeezed down and Harry found himself thrusting raggedly, without a plan. Draco chuckled and trailed his fingers down Harry’s shoulders, around in a rough circle.

            “It’s so good,” Draco whispered, “that first time with a man. I can’t wait to do it to you.”

            Harry grabbed his arms and made sure they wouldn’t fall off the bed again. His mind buzzed with images; his skin rang with his heartbeat.

            If he thought about it too much, or if he concentrated too much on Draco’s words, he would come. He didn’t want to do that yet. He thought, instead, about how wonderful Draco felt, and the inevitable squeeze, and how it was to thrust up and then drag himself back, his hips already getting ready for another thrust…

            Draco began to utter a low chant of mingled gasps and moans that urged Harry endlessly on. He thought it sounded like the beginning of a spell, but one that never ended, either, that went on and on the way they did, and began to roll to a higher point as they did.

            Harry’s veins burned. His wings did, too, with the position he was having to hold them in, and the way he was trying to avoid beating them, because that would tire him faster. Draco, after a moment when he had whacked Harry over the head with his, was doing better, partially because he had more room to slowly flap them in.

            And then Draco shuddered and clamped down with a viciousness that Harry would never have believed an arse capable of, and he leaned in and wrapped his wings around both of them even as he kissed Harry.

            Harry arched up. It seemed to him that he never came back to earth after that. The light danced and raced him upwards, his wings thundered as if he was a dragon, and the pleasure was shaking him until he didn’t remember how to get down even if he wanted to.

            The only thing that would be better is mating as we fly.

            The thought teased Harry, and he wanted to give another shudder, spend some more. But he couldn’t. He became aware, at last, that he was leaning forwards, into Draco’s embrace, and Draco was fighting, with small twitches and flaps, not to fall off him and back.

            “Don’t push me off the bed,” Draco whispered, sounding tired. “I’m so exhausted I would fall, and I don’t have the strength to fly.”

            Harry kissed him soundly, with less of the divine edge to it this time, and nodded. His throat was too worn and abraded for words. He pulled Draco gently to the side and slid out of him with a motion that tore a groan from them both. Then he reached for his wand and cast the gentlest Cleaning Charms he knew.

            Draco had said something about wanting to prepare himself differently next time. And Harry would indulge in a shower the next time with Draco, too. Or after the next time. But right now, his legs were so wobbly and his hips ached so much that Harry doubted they would support him across the room. Flying wasn’t an option, either, the way his wings felt.

            Draco didn’t object to the Cleaning Charms, luckily, just leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder. He looked as exhausted as Harry felt. He didn’t object when Harry ran a hand through his hair, either, or pressed a kiss behind his ear. All he did was close his eyes and sigh and appear sated, a faint smile curving his lips the more Harry kissed him and stroked him.

            “What?” Harry finally asked. He blinked. His voice was hoarse. Well, there were probably some grunts and other noises he couldn’t remember.

            “You’re preening me.”

            Harry glared. “You make it sound like something non-Veela never do.” But he did remember snuggling close with other—not mates, lovers, although those had all been women. If he’d had to guess, he would have supposed men didn’t like to touch each other like this.

            Which fit better into Draco’s theory about this being preening than into his “human” theory, he had to admit. Damn it.

            “Don’t stop, I like it,” said Draco, and tilted his head back to give Harry a lazy smile. “One thing we should talk about, though, is how we’re going to make this work. Are you going to help me learn more about Auror work, or are we going to lean on Veela natural instincts? Will the Ministry accept this once they learn that you’re resigning and going to work this way?”

            Harry sighed. He felt sleepy and contented and didn’t want to talk about this now, but he understood why Draco wanted to. They had one kind of future as mates; the way they could have such spectacular sex showed that. But this was another kind of future, or another strand to it.

            He pinned Draco to the bed and nosed his way through several small clusters of feathers before he deigned to respond. Draco only tipped his head to let him do it, his gaze fixed endlessly, patiently, on Harry.

            “I think the Aurors are expecting my resignation,” Harry said finally. “Which only makes me not want to give it to them.”

            Draco chuckled expectantly, and waited some more. Harry sighed and admitted, “But I think I will. And I’ll find out more about the ways that—I forget what they’re called, consultants or aides, something like that. But I’ll find out about the way they work with the Aurors, and what makes them acceptable, instead of people the Aurors don’t want to know. At least, we’ll get some great publicity.”

            “From your efforts, or Granger’s?” Draco’s voice was soft and smooth.

            “Well, my name,” Harry said, and felt a stiffness creep into Draco’s muscles. He hunched back a little. “Do you not like that? I’m sorry, but I can’t help the way people react to me.”

            “No,” said Draco with a long sigh, and rolled over to kiss Harry until he felt as if he were drowning. “It’s just when you talk about your fame, I remember the way you said that people tried to control your life and didn’t want to give you any choice about who you dated or fell in love with. It makes me want to kill them.”

            Harry tightened his hold on Draco’s arms. “Can Veela mates have different levels of protective instincts?” he asked cautiously, hoping the question wouldn’t upset Draco. “I mean, I want you safe, and I would immediately fight someone who was threatening you, but I don’t want to kill people when I think about them.”

            Draco did some more sighing, and rolled so that his head was nestled on Harry’s chest. “They can,” he said finally. “And you haven’t actually seen me in danger yet, while I’ve heard about the way your relatives treated you and the way random people in the wizarding world treated you.” He hesitated. “What comes to mind when you think about Voldemort ordering me to torture the Death Eaters?”

            Harry felt a sharp, strange sensation in his fingertips, and looked down in surprise. His nails had transformed into claws, and he hadn’t even realized it. He turned his hand back and forth a little, staring at them.

            “Exactly,” said Draco, and closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. “Then you still want to protect me. I wondered.”

            “I can’t want to protect you without also wanting to tear someone’s head off?” Harry muttered in disgust, but he went back to preening Draco with his lips while he waited for his claws to return to normal fingernails. It didn’t take long once he was thinking about it; they shimmered and shrank, although Harry, looking sideways at them, thought they still had more of a curve to them than they normally had.

            “I like it when you have all the instincts I do. That makes us more equal.”

            Harry kissed the side of his neck. “Then I apologize for not wanting to tear someone’s head off all the time.”

            Draco rolled his head back and closed his eyes. “It’s all right,” he said magnanimously, in the kind of tone that meant he was aware of his magnanimity. “I forgive you.”

            Harry rolled his eyes and settled against Draco in a way that made him chirp, and they left the discussion of the future for tomorrow.
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