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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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Six—Tempted

            Rose was sleeping. Harry put his chin in his hands and thought about asking Hermione what he should do next, but he didn’t want to bother her while she was in the flurry of flying pages and mutters that usually meant she was hunting down evidence for a case.

            Besides, he knew what she would say. She would advise him to relax, and then suggest settling down with a good book. If Harry turned his head, he could see an enormous edition of Hogwarts, A History, the binding crowded with gilt letters, on the shelf nearest him. He grimaced and turned his head away. By now, it had become a matter of pride never to read that bloody thing, since he was sure Hermione had already shared all the good or useful bits with him anyway.

            The Floo turned bright. Harry sat up, heart pounding, wondering if Draco was in trouble. Of course, he had said that he would come to the door and pick Harry up when he thought it was safe instead of firecalling, but plans could change.

            The voice that emerged from the flames wasn’t Draco’s, though, and it wasn’t Ron’s, either, which Harry would have thought the second most likely choice. “Hermione?” Kingsley asked. “Are you there?”

            Harry caught his breath, his heartbeat turned suddenly rough as he wondered what might have happened to Ron. “I’m here, Kingsley,” he said, when he could speak. “Harry. Has something happened to Ron?”

            “No,” Kingsley said, and the relief in his voice made Harry close his eyes for a second. “No. In fact, I was just about to ask Hermione if she knew where you were. I wanted to speak with you.”

            “Sir?” Harry asked. He wondered if being asked to consult on a case while he was on holiday would break the rules he and Draco had agreed on. On the other hand, it had been Harry’s decision to take the time off, and surely it had to be Harry’s decision to speak to Kingsley, or anyone else from the Ministry, excluding Ron, during that time.

            Kingsley lowered his voice, as though he had someone in the office who he was afraid would overhear him. “It’s about a new case that’s just come up. A minor series of robberies has turned out to be connected, and last night we had our first murder. There’s no obvious motive this time, because the murder took place far from the site of the last reported robbery, and it wasn’t someone who was involved or a witness, either.”

            Harry raised his eyebrows. “Then how do you know that it’s connected to the robberies at all?”

            Kingsley gave him a grim smile. “Because an amulet taken from the first crime scene was clutched in the victim’s fingers.”

            Harry licked his lips and tried to force down the rising excitement in his veins. “Did it look as though he’d pulled it off accidentally? Or had it been placed there?”

            “Placed.” Kingsley’s chuckle was grim. “Our thief thinks that he’s good enough to merit the attentions of Aurors. And there’s no doubt that he did use Dark magic to enter the last site. At each one he’s taken the same kind of loot: minor magical artifacts, usually made or partially made of silver, usually with an enchantment that its owner was convinced was more than it seemed on the surface. But of course, owners of minor magical artifacts often think that.”

            Harry nodded, considering. There were times when the tales of those artifacts, special to their owners but no one else, attracted the attention of someone who might have reason to believe that they were powerful, or important. Harry had dealt with robberies like this before, and the suspects were often research wizards who had spent enough time learning about enchantments and wards to break through the protections the artifacts’ owners usually put around them.

            “I would start with that new university they’re trying to open,” he said. “I don’t think they’re regulating the people who do research sufficiently, and the teachers have a reputation for gathering books that talk about ‘ancient and foreordained’ objects and then letting their students to swallow every word.” He rolled his eyes.

            Kingsley remained motionless, gaze locked on him. Harry frowned. “What? Don’t you think that’s a good suggestion? It’s the only one I can make, unless you want to tell me something more about the case.”

            “I didn’t firecall you because I wanted you to advise me,” Kingsley said quietly. “I want you to take the case. I think it’s the kind that you’ll do best at, and if we can catch this thief before he advances into more killing, it won’t be that dangerous.”

            The skin all over Harry’s body seemed to tighten. His chest was shuddering with the force of his heartbeat now, and it took everything he had to meet Kingsley’s look evenly. “I’m on holiday,” he said. “For a fortnight, and only four days of that have passed.”

            “I’m asking for you especially,” Kingsley said. His voice stayed steady and grave, as did the expression on his face. “Yes, the killer hasn’t killed much yet, but I also think he’ll escalate unless he’s stopped. You’re the best in the Department at putting together clues quickly and enabling us to rein in a murderer after only one or two kills.”

            Harry had thought he knew what temptation was after he woke up in Draco’s arms earlier that day. He had wanted to stay still and trust Draco to take care of him—to give up on all this useless striving and the equally useless attempts to protect himself—and just let the world drift by. It had been a powerful dream, one so strong that Harry had felt it drawing him under like a riptide.

            But this—

            Auror work was what he was meant to do. He had been going mad with boredom because there was nothing else that he liked to do as much, and his life couldn’t be Draco and being with Draco. He had promised to take a holiday, but he was the one who had made that decision and he should be the one who got to say how long it lasted, shouldn’t he? Draco would understand. He didn’t want Harry to be miserable.

            No, he wouldn’t understand, said the iron voice of his conscience, the one Harry usually listened to when he was tempted to hurt one of the murderers he had captured for the damage they had inflicted on others. You promised to take a fortnight off. He expects you to keep that promise. Break it now, and you’ll be dealing with trust issues that are entirely your fault. Besides, he thinks you’re safe here. Think how crazy he’ll be if you walk out of Ron and Hermione’s house.

            Harry shut his eyes. The longing was swirling all around his feet like dark water, and no one except Draco could possibly blame him if he plunged. He could save lives. Surely that was all right?

            Then he remembered that Ron and Hermione had both been approving when he took the time off, and he gritted his teeth, opened his eyes, and shook his head. It was as difficult to move it as if he had lead weights attached to his ears.

            “Harry?” Kingsley’s voice was small and shocked, his eyes wide now, which destroyed the pretense of steadiness that he’d exhibited before. Harry winced. Kingsley wasn’t asking him on the case because he wanted to take away Harry’s holiday or put his life in danger; he genuinely thought that Harry would be the best one for it, and didn’t know what to do when Harry didn’t agree.

            “I’m sorry,” Harry said. “But I’ve been sinking too deeply in my work. And if I get hurt, then I can’t let anyone else heal me. Really, I should probably stay away from work until that problem gets resolved, but I’m not sure that it ever will be. The two weeks off are my compromise.”

            Kingsley scowled. “I don’t think there’s anyone else who will do as well on this case as you.”

            Harry sighed. His throat hurt. He hadn’t known how much work it would take to swallow that longing. “I don’t—I appreciate you thinking of me, sir. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other people who can work on it. I’d assign them to it, and I’d assign them in a partner team. This sounds like one of those cases that can get nasty quickly, because the criminal thinks he’s clever and won’t like it when they start cornering him.”

            Kingsley frowned at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

            Harry nodded and rubbed his hands on his trousers. “I’m sorry, sir, I really am. But I don’t think that I should sabotage my own healing so soon after I started taking steps to begin it. I have to think about what I want sometimes, what I need.” The words would have sounded stronger and braver with Draco beside him, he thought, but he said them anyway.

            Kingsley released a sigh that would probably have made the flames flutter if his breath was real to them. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure? I hate to see the case go down in wrack and ruin because you aren’t there.”

            Harry sat upright. Thanks to Draco, he thought wryly, he had become much more of an expert at noticing when people were trying to manipulate him. “You have other Aurors who can handle the case, sir,” he said. “Aurors as competent as I am, but with far less of a chance to display their talents. They need a chance, and they don’t need to see me called out of a holiday to take the chance away from them. That’s the kind of thing that starts rumors about me trying to crowd other people out of advancement.” He smiled, to soften the sting of his next words. “And about you not caring about the mental, or physical, health of your Aurors.”

            Kingsley slowly nodded. “I’ve heard some people say the same thing already,” he said. “Yes, Harry, all right. If you’re sure.”

            “I am,” Harry said firmly. “Goodbye.” And he shut the Floo down, which was rude, but which would keep Kingsley from asking anything more of him—including questions he might not have been able to resist.

            He sat on the couch for a while, rubbing his face, watching the fire, and listening for Rose to cry.

*

            “Draco!” Pansy rose off the floor on her toes to hug him. She had always been shorter than he was, since they were in fifth year, and had sulked about it for months before she got used to it. “I’m so glad you came! I was trying and trying to contact you, but you weren’t at home and you weren’t at the Manor, either. Where were you?”

            “I was in a private place with my new lover.” Draco hugged her shoulders and then sat down in the chair he usually took, not prolonging the hug the way Pansy would have liked to do. Despite himself, despite all the happiness that Harry brought him, and despite the fact that he and Pansy had remained friends, it was still hard for Draco to touch her for long. She had been his first chosen, and he wasn’t going to forget the fact. “I want to keep him hidden from the rest of the world for a while. The press is going to fasten on us enough when we first reveal his identity.”

            Pansy’s eyes lit up with the expectation of gossip, and she sat down in the chair across from him with a little wriggle of excitement. “Who is it, Draco?”

            Draco took the chance to look around her house a moment before he answered. He had to keep from wrinkling his nose. Pansy’s taste ran to bright, clashing colors—deep blues and purples, green and reds—that made him wonder what she must have thought about the positively subdued atmosphere of Slytherin in Hogwarts. There were paintings on her walls that might be flowers or simply large, abstract splashes of the shades she liked; Draco didn’t know enough about flowers to be sure. Her chairs were comfortable, but crowded with colored cushions, and her fireplace was set with marble and precious stones in more hues than Draco had known they came in.

            Pansy followed his gaze and smiled as if she knew what he was thinking, but didn’t say the obvious aloud, that Draco and she would have fought over decorating if they had remained together. “Tell me who it is,” she said again, and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

            “Harry Potter,” Draco said, because that was the hardest part of his news, given the mixture of truth and lies he had to tell, and he wanted to get it out of the way and them both past her reaction as soon as he could.

            Pansy’s mouth dropped open. “Draco,” she said, voice so hushed that Draco honestly couldn’t tell whether her voice was admiring, appalled, or some mixture of the two. “I heard you swear up and down once that you wouldn’t have him if he offered himself!”

            “Things change,” Draco said. “He was one of the few people who was decent to me after the war. And you know what he did for my family when my parents were wounded.” He felt a glow of expanding happiness in his chest, and he smiled. It was nice being able to talk about his chosen to someone who wasn’t one of Harry’s friends. He’d had far too little time to revel in the fact that he knew who he was going to be with for the rest of his life. “Besides, do you think I’d have spent all that time looking at him during Hogwarts without noticing that he was intelligent and handsome, even if I denied the fact aloud?”

            “Things must have changed.” Pansy pushed a lock of hair back and stared at him. “You’re sure?”

            Draco nodded. “And he’s accepted me, despite some qualms.” He leaned forwards, staring at her. “Qualms that your own actions have directly touched upon, whether you know it or not.”

            Pansy drew back into herself at once, her face a haughty, cool mask Draco didn’t think his mother could have bettered as she folded her hands on her knees. “Oh? I refuse to accept responsibility for your broken heart last time, Draco. I stopped it before we got too serious, and you knew from the beginning that we probably wouldn’t last. Or are you suggesting that you lied to me later?”

            Draco shook his head. “It has nothing to do with that. It’s about your search for Laurent du Michel.”

            “Really?” Pansy cocked her head to the side. “I can’t see the connection there, no matter how hard I try.”

            Draco smiled. Pansy’s mask had melted the moment she thought she might not need it. That was one of the things he had always appreciated about her: he was one of the few people she would show her honest emotions in front of. If she showed that she was puzzled, then she was.

            “Harry used to date du Michel,” he said. “And du Michel being sentenced to Azkaban for charming key members of the Ministry makes Harry think that du Michel only dated him in the first place for the political influence. He was reluctant to trust Veela, and he only accepted me conditionally. Then he heard that you were looking into finding out what had become of du Michel. You can imagine what it will do to Harry’s reputation if you insist on dragging this trial into the light.”

            Pansy blinked. “I—that’s quite a coincidence, Draco. You didn’t know that Potter had dated a Veela before when you chose him?”

            Draco shook his head. “Harry did his best to put the memories behind him. He was quiet, and bitter, because here was yet another person who he thought was in love with him and only turned out to be after what Harry could do for him. In fact, he hasn’t dated in the almost three years since then, he was so bitter about it.” He leaned forwards and let Pansy see the rising gleam in his eyes, the way his nails were starting to flex and curve into claws. “I’ll do anything to make him happy, Pansy, and if that means the brute has to stay in prison, then I’ll strive to keep him there.”

            Pansy drew a deep breath. Then she said, “You know that we’ve always been alike in some ways, Draco. That was one of the reasons you gave for choosing me, when we thought we were compatible.”

            Draco nodded, never taking his eyes away from her face.

            “One of my friends, the ones who want to find du Michel because they have almost no family left, is named Russell du Michel.” Pansy’s face turned a delicate pink. “I—we’re almost certainly going to be married soon. And I would do anything to see the ones I love happy, just like you would.” She met Draco’s gaze again. “Anything.”

            Draco hissed silently. Yes, he had been afraid that Pansy’s persistence resisted on something like this, either friendship or love. There was no reason for her to go so far if all she felt was mere curiosity.

            “I didn’t want to do this, Pansy,” he said.

            Pansy didn’t bat an eyelash. “You needn’t threaten to use your allure on me,” she said. “I have wards in the house that will react to its presence and preserve my memory, no matter what you do.”

            Draco felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Even Harry, as distrustful as he was of Veela, hadn’t done that.

            “I’m explaining a certain truth to you,” he said, when he could recover his breath. “We’d both do anything for the people we love, but I’ll do more than you. A Veela can and will go further, and there are no words for how I love Harry, already.” He released more of his control over his Veela features, letting the skin of his face become porcelain-like and his mouth extend a bit in the shape of a beak. Pansy gasped sharply. Draco nodded, making sure he never blinked. “And a Veela has greater legal resources for defending his chosen, as well. I would advise your lover to be content with knowing what happened to his cousin. Insisting that he be free of Azkaban is too far, and would impinge on Harry’s comfort, health, and happiness. I won’t allow it.”

            Pansy was sitting so upright now that Draco thought she must be straining her back. Her hands were white-knuckled in her lap. Her voice was low and insistent. “I won’t let a Veela scare me away from doing what’s best for Russell, either.”

            Draco gave her a small, smooth bow from the waist, and rose to his feet. “I had hoped that you would let old friendship prevail over the new,” he said. “I see you won’t. If not, then I can only hope that I won’t have to hurt you too badly.”

            “I could say the same of you,” Pansy retorted, and stood up. Despite her wide eyes and the way Draco, with his enhanced senses, could hear her breathing speeding up, she faced him. “You’re choosing Potter over me? You’re choosing—”

            “My new chosen over my old chosen,” Draco said when she hesitated on her own. “Yes. You’re human, and you can make the decision without the pressure of old magic and instincts on you. I’m Veela, and I can’t.”

            “There’s no reason that Russell can’t know what happened to his cousin.” Pansy’s voice lowered.

            “And now he does,” Draco said. “Why does he want more than that? Does he think that a Veela cousin who would use his allure to affect people—who made a bid for power in the Ministry, and failed badly enough to make the Wizengamot try him—is going to embrace him and make his life have all it’s been lacking so far?”

            Pansy hesitated again. Then she said, “He wants to look his cousin in the face, trace the resemblance between them, and talk to him about what his life’s been like. That’s not too much to ask, surely. You could have visited your parents if they had been taken to Azkaban.”

            “This situation is different,” Draco said. “Because the Wizengamot says it is. And there are people invested in making sure that it remains secret. You’re going to run into more opposition if you try to open this up, Pansy. The difference is that the rest of them will probably try to bribe you or bargain with you. Not destroy you. I will.”

            Pansy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “This is the only thing Russell wants. The rest of his relatives are dead. He has to see Laurent. There’s no way that he’ll be content without that.”

            Draco began to move his wand in careful circles, but down at his side, so that Pansy, focused on his face, couldn’t see what he was doing. “And what if he finds out that Laurent is even worse than he thought? A pitiful, bedraggled Azkaban inmate, with wings that he can’t even spread in the cell? Veela are more likely than other prisoners to go mad when they aren’t exposed to sunlight, Pansy, and he won’t have been.”

            “Even then,” Pansy said. “It’s family. His family. You know that you wouldn’t be put off, no matter what had happened to your parents, from trying to find them.”

            “I’ll ask you one more time,” Draco said gently, as the responses to his charms flowed back to him and filled his head with knowledge. “Why can’t he rest content with the knowledge that Laurent isn’t ever getting out again? It would only pain both of them to be exposed to this. Is your Russell actually going to be mad enough to try to free someone who would use his allure without hesitation on innocent people? Someone who would date Harry Potter because he wanted fame and nothing more than that?”

            Pansy shook her head. “He won’t be able to answer that until he sees him. If he doesn’t think his crime is all that great—and it sounds like the sort of thing other people would be reprimanded, not arrested, for—then he might try to get him retried, yes.”

            The charms he’d cast had checked for the presence of wards that would record and inhibit Veela allure the way Pansy claimed they would, and had told him the truth. There were none. Pansy was lying.

            He could use his allure, no more than a gentle touch of it, on her mind, and make her forget about Russell, but remain open to the suggestions and commands of another Veela. He could make her devoted to him for the span of time that would be necessary to ease her past this dangerous moment. He could make her forget what she had learned today, or believe that Laurent’s crime was far worse, without revealing the details, so that she would be fanatically opposed to any attempts to free him.

            He could.

            And Harry wasn’t here to forbid him.

            Draco vibrated, his wings twitching beneath his skin. He wanted to spread them and reach out with the allure. Not much, no more than he had used on Ramsay in the Ministry, would be enough to begin. And if he would really do anything to keep his chosen safe, that had to include using the allure.

            Except that perhaps his chosen’s mental health was more important than the physical. Ultimately, Draco was confident about his ability to keep Harry safe even if Laurent was freed. He didn’t know that he could keep Harry safe from his own broken trust, if he found out that Draco had used the allure on someone who hadn’t consented.

            The cliff edge trembled beneath his feet. Draco stepped away from the edge of temptation and nodded coldly to Pansy.

            “You may get the interview,” he said. “You may get du Michel freed. But you’ll have to deal with me, and Harry, and the Malfoys.” He smiled at Pansy, but it made her turn white. “My parents like him. Very much. They have reason to. They’ll do whatever they need to defend him.”

            “Why do you want him to stay caged so much?” Pansy demanded.

            “Why do you want your lover to see him so much?” Draco asked. “The demands are perfectly and equally irrational.”

            Pansy turned her back with a little huff. “I’m going to do this,” she said. “Nothing you do can stop me.”

            “I have better weapons than you do,” Draco warned her, and then left, shuddering as he stepped out of her house. He didn’t want to destroy Pansy as much as he wanted to destroy Oblansky, but he could come close.

            Right now, though, he really wanted to be back with his chosen.

*

            luvlustblood: Thank you!

            SP777: Thank you.

            Owen and Lucy could help, but only if Harry will trust them to support him in public. I don’t think he trusts them that far.

            Most people do believe that Veela can cause harm, but not people like Oblansky, who put Veela first.

            Clau: Not a whole lot. He was flattered to be asked, but keep in mind that, to him, Pansy is a mere human.

            As you can see here, Pansy is in love and not much more rational about it than Draco is.

            That’s flattering that your boyfriend likes them.

            thrnbrooke: Thanks for reviewing.

            nette: Draco is willing to sacrifice Pansy if he has to. He doesn’t want to, but Pansy’s stubborn insistence that her boyfriend needs to see Laurent to be complete means that she probably won’t listen.

            Night the Storyteller: Not sure what you mean. Harry only knows about those needs that Draco’s told him about or he’s read about.

            Monkey Lady: Let’s hope that Harry will continue to relax.
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