Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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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Harry opened his eyes to a steady pounding.
He thought for a long moment that it was his own head, which was pounding as though someone was slamming a hammer against his skull from the inside. But when he reached out and felt against the sides of the wooden box he seemed to be locked in, he realized the noise was coming from outside it.
Harry had just enough room for his wings when he twisted to his knees. When he tried to get up further, his feathers brushed against the lid. It was like a crate, fastened around him and banded with iron. And wards, he discovered when he tried to stretch the tip of his wing through the gap between the slats and got it burned.
He shrieked, and an immediate shriek answered him—one he knew.
Harry tossed his head back and closed his eyes. He had never done this before, but instincts seemed to be taking him over, the way they did when he had sex with Draco. He reached along the bond, which suddenly seemed to burn in front of his eyes like a rope made of white fire, and there, yes, there was his mate, on the other side of the box and whatever door was near it.
Harry screamed again, and he got answered by the scrape of claws along what sounded like stone and Draco’s war-cry.
That cry snapped Harry back into sanity. The last place he’d heard it was outside the Dursleys’ house, and he could just imagine Draco in the same kind of mood, coming after Kevin and Lavaliere.
Harry had to get free, or Draco was going to kill someone. And while Harry couldn’t bring himself to care that much about the people who had kidnapped him, he didn’t want to see what that would do to Draco.
He flung himself against the sides of the crate, claws out, and magic curled and stung him. He didn’t have his wand, of course. He spread his wings further, and this time, something burned his feathers. Harry tried to muffle his immediate reaction, though, because he knew how hearing his voice in pain would “inspire” Draco.
It didn’t seem to matter. Maybe Draco could feel his pain along the bond. Either way, he screamed immediately, hoarse, desperate-sounding, and then Harry heard something other than the box splinter and tear.
The next instant, there was shouting, and the beating of more than one pair of wings, and the bond appeared in front of Harry’s eyes again, shortening. Harry reared back and lifted his legs to try kicking against the roof. The magic on it didn’t seem to react as badly when he didn’t approach it with the Veela parts of his body.
At the same moment as his boots hit the lid, a gigantic pair of snowy wings did from the outside, too. Draco yelled in pain, but the next instant he’d torn a hole when one of the boards broke, and he peered in at Harry. His voice changed to a croon. He yanked the broken board ahead, ignoring the way it burned his hands, and lifted Harry out of the box.
Harry tried to crane his head to the side, to see how hurt Draco’s hands and wings were, but Draco held him too close to his chest to see. He kissed him, and Harry felt a deep cloak of relaxation drop onto his shoulders. He reached up and traced his fingers around Draco’s cheeks and up to his ears, crooning quietly.
Then Draco placed him securely on the floor and mantled over him. Harry blinked and tried to turn to see what was going on, but Draco’s hands held him still with effortless strength. Harry reached down and pulled at Draco’s arms. They didn’t move.
Harry tried to ask something, but Draco adjusted the curve of one wing so it blocked his mouth. Then he raised his wings further, and something began to brew and churn under them like a potion. Harry felt his eyes widen. It was blue fire, edged with white, looking harder than any of the fireballs Veela had flung during the World Cup.
“Draco, what are you doing?” he whispered breathlessly against the blocking mask of feathers.
Draco either didn’t hear him or didn’t understand him. He lifted his wings further and then began to stalk forwards, pulling Harry with him and crouching low to shelter him at the same time. Harry didn’t understand until he finally thought to face forwards and take stock of the rest of the room.
It looked like a room in someone’s house, though maybe the cellar. The walls were stone, and scattered around were crates like the ones that had imprisoned Harry, most of them broken. Cowering against the wall were Kevin and Lavaliere.
Well, Lavaliere did have her wings spread as if she was trying to shield her mate from Draco’s gaze. But she was trembling, and she couldn’t seem to pull her glance away from the fire dancing beneath Draco’s wings. Harry wondered if it was actively hypnotizing to enemies or something.
He pulled again, insistently, at Draco’s arms. He knew what was going to happen if he didn’t get free, and he didn’t want it to.
Draco crooned directly into his ear. Harry found himself leaning back with a smile he knew was dopey, and letting his head rest against Draco’s collarbone.
“Let me take care of it, love,” Draco murmured. His fingers were leaving those trails of fire as he stroked along the back of Harry’s shoulders, and Harry shivered. He had never known the base of his wings was that sensitive. “You just stand here and let me. Or better, sit and let me.” He knelt and placed Harry on the floor in front of him, and Harry knew all he had to do was sit there and let the bliss take him.
Let Draco take care of him. Let Draco take care of everything.
But if I do, then Draco will be hurt, too. Murder splits your soul.
Harry remembered Horcruxes, and Voldemort, and that was the memory that let him get his hands beneath him and rise. He crawled away from Draco for a second, until he had room to spread his wings. Then he turned around and stood. It wasn’t so hard to get away from those hands, after all, not when he had the right motivation.
Draco’s lips were pulled back from his teeth, and he looked hard and terrible, when he met Harry’s gaze. “You would protect them,” he said, his voice chiming, high and shrill. Harry wanted to listen to it and succumb to it, be swept under by it, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about what Draco needed. “You care more about them than me.”
“No. I care about you preserving your soul. I don’t want you to murder someone and split it.”
Someone whimpered behind Harry, but he couldn’t tell whether it was Kevin or Lavaliere. For a moment, Draco’s gaze darted over his shoulder, and then he turned and stared hard at Harry. “I won’t split my soul.”
“Have you ever murdered someone?”
Harry knew the answer to that question very well. Even when the lives of his family had depended on it, Draco hadn’t been able to kill Dumbledore. And now, from the way he was moving his wings in small, restless circles, he was remembering the same thing.
Harry held his eyes. He was tired and still a little muddle-headed from whatever drug Kevin had given him, and the burns on his fingers and wings ached. That didn’t matter, not next to what he had to do.
“You said that you understood the Veela defensive instincts. That you shared them when you thought about what Voldemort had done to me.”
Harry extended his neck, nuzzling his cheek against Draco’s. Draco’s nostrils flared and he tried to speak, but Harry was already doing so. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I want blood on your hands and dead bodies on the floor.”
“If you really understand me,” said Draco, and gripped Harry’s wrist hard enough that Harry winced for his bones, “then you’ll understand why I need to punish them for kidnapping you.”
Harry turned back to Kevin and Lavaliere. He didn’t think they’d moved, unless Lavaliere had shifted a little to cover her mate more. “You do,” he agreed. “But you can’t kill them. How will they understand the depth of your displeasure if you just slaughter them and then it’s over with?”
Draco’s hiss, which had sounded mixed with a growl, stopped abruptly. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“I am,” Harry said, and turned back to him. “Is it working?”
“I do want them to suffer,” Draco said, and his gaze passed across the pair of them. Kevin was actively trying to hide his eyes now, Harry saw when he looked over his shoulder, something he hadn’t done in front of Harry. Lavaliere’s face looked the same shade as her wings, but she didn’t move. “I want them to suffer as much as they would in Azkaban. But if we tell someone, then they’ll be arrested and held in the Veela community. And we don’t have prisons like Azkaban.”
Harry leaned on Draco’s chest. “Think about all the things that we learned in Veela Mate Culture,” he urged him softly, ignoring the crackling blue flames that parted around his wings like water. He knew Draco’s magic would never hurt him. “Do you really think that the professors are going to take someone kidnapping me and trying to end our bond lightly?”
“We weren’t trying to end your bond!”
Draco never looked at Lavaliere. He reached out and smoothed his thumbs along Harry’s cheeks, beneath his eyes. Harry held patiently still. Draco wouldn’t hurt him with the claws that had replaced his fingernails, either.
“Veela Mate Culture also taught me that I could slaughter your enemies for endangering you and no one would arrest me.”
“But it would cause difficulties in our bond. And if you want to say that’s because I’m a transformed Veela—”
“It is.”
Harry turned and shrieked at Lavaliere, making her sway on her feet and wrap her hands around her ears. He was trying to save her bloody life! Why was it so hard for her to see that?
“If you want to say it’s because I didn’t grow up in Veela communities, or because I accepted their values so late, or something,” Harry went on, turning back to his mate, “then that’s fine. But I would still dislike it if you killed someone for me.” He reached out and curled his own claws gently into a circle atop Draco’s madly beating heart. “I want you to do things other than kill for me.”
“Like what?” Draco’s voice was soft, and he was crowding Harry, nearly forcing him back against the edge of the broken crate.
“Like live for me,” Harry said, and lifted his head, and did his best to look seductive. He was probably not doing a good job, but from the way that Draco’s eyes slowly widened, maybe he didn’t need to when it was his mate looking at him. “And please me, and work with me, and help me get my allure even more under control than it is. And teach me more about what it means to be mated to someone.” He curled his claws in until he would have pierced Draco’s skin and hurt him if they weren’t mates, he thought. “Will you do those things for me?”
Draco bowed his head and touched his cheek to Harry’s cheek, then to Harry’s lips. Then he pulled back and touched his lips to Harry’s cheek and mouth. Harry tilted his head back to accept the kiss, feeling the slightly drunk and hazy feeling slip over him again. But this time, Draco wasn’t trying to ease him out of the way.
This time, he was accepting everything Harry had said.
“All right,” Draco whispered. “I can see why you don’t want me to suffer for doing something to them. Even if Testig and the other professors would probably say that we’re fully justified in this.” He pulled Harry gently to his feet and back into his arms. As long as he didn’t try to kill Lavaliere and Kevin, Harry had no objections to that.
Draco did turn to the two of them and say, in a voice that made the fire burning under his wings seem cold, “Why did you do it?”
Harry looked at them again, curious about their answer. Kevin was shivering with his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes closed and didn’t look inclined to say anything, but Lavaliere stood up and cocked her wings a little. The look on her face had chilled again. Harry thought she looked a little like Fleur had when she sneered at him for being the fourth Tri-Wizard Champion.
“Because I was going to cut his wings off. There’s a procedure that you can do with transformed Veela, certain potions and magic, so they aren’t Veela anymore. I was going to do it on him, and then the school wouldn’t be contaminated by his presence any longer.”
Harry tried to reach back and put his hand calmingly on Draco’s chest, but for at least one thing, he was too late. Draco flipped his wings up.
The boiling blue-white fire flared through the room, casting odd shadows on the walls. Harry had to close his eyes, it was so bright, and he heard Lavaliere’s hysterical cry and Kevin’s low wail.
Harry finally managed to turn his head and blink through the afterimages, which danced like lightning bolts across his vision. Lavaliere lay on the floor, her head cradled in Kevin’s lap. He was pulling his hand through her long silver hair and whispering her name.
Half her hair had been crisped and burned off. And down the left side of her face, missing her eye but taking up her temple and her cheek and her jaw, was a huge, ugly burn. Harry shivered. He could make out the shape of five fingers in that burn, even though he knew Draco hadn’t actually touched her with his hand.
“That scar is going to remain,” Draco said, and his voice was so heavy with pleasure that Harry shivered before realizing what a bloody inappropriate reaction that was. He shook his head and tried to get rid of both the afterimages and the weight of Draco’s hand pressing into his shoulders. “And now, I think that you’re going to look less like a Veela than we do. Because your beauty, the one inheritance that all of us should have, is going to be destroyed forever.”
“You’re cruel,” said Kevin, without looking up or away from Lavaliere.
“So is she,” Draco said. “The punishment fits the crime. And it’s going to be more than that when we tell Testig and the other professors what happened.” He paused in dragging Harry towards the door. “Honestly, I don’t envy you at all when Professor Testig finds out exactly how much you disobeyed the dictates of respecting a Veela mate bond.”
And then they were abruptly outside the door, in a whirl of motion so fast that Harry hardly had time to see the other small stone room that they flew through, only the cloudy sky into which Draco abruptly lifted him.
“I can fly on my own, you know,” Harry said, tilting his head back to look up into Draco’s face.
Draco looked down, and his face was wild and savage with beauty. “Leave me alone right now, Harry,” he said. “I still had to stop myself from killing her when I heard what she intended to do with you, even after I’d promised you I wouldn’t.” He bent his head down and rubbed his nose through Harry’s hair. “You have to let me take care of you and seduce you when we get back.”
Harry glanced at the burns on Draco’s hands, which were curled under his armpits as Draco carried him. “Then you have to promise to let me heal your wounds.”
“Not now.” Draco’s wings bulged suddenly, making them fall a short distance through the air, and Draco flipped his chin down to stare into Harry’s eyes. “Let me take care of you.”
Harry shuddered a little, and not with fear. He could feel himself hardening under the glint in Draco’s eyes, and his voice came out breathless. “All right then.”
Draco slowly brought them back up to their previous height, and smoothed out into a gently flapping flight that Harry could hardly feel. But he felt the way Draco held him, gripping, possessively, not ever intending to let someone come between them. And Harry did like that. He wouldn’t have liked it if Draco would have killed for him, but again, the desire to do so…
Maybe it was fucked-up. But he liked what he liked.
And Draco’s low croon, and the way he kept flying without turning back to try and slaughter Kevin and Lavaliere again, had to be a good sign.
*
SP777: On Kevin's part? Or Harry's?
Morningstorm70: Well, I don't think this one is.
Miu: Thank you!
Serena678: Thank you! I am trying to give Draco and Harry a relatinoship that doesn't seem to follow human gender roles.
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