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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“Let me handle it.”
Harry tilted his head back and considered Draco as they walked down the corridor towards Testig’s classroom. Draco had his jaw so set that Harry was honestly afraid he might break his teeth. And he was marching so hard that his wings flared out and banged against the wall from the strength of his strides.
Except for the wing he kept wrapped around Harry, of course. That couldn’t shift, and it felt as heavy as a cloak.
Harry nodded when Draco glanced at him. “Are you going to Testig because you think she’ll be hardest on Lavaliere?” he asked. It would have made sense to go to Professor Grunnell otherwise. She was the one who had actually witnessed their confrontation with Lavaliere and Kevin.
“Exactly.” Draco grinned at him and then knocked on the classroom door. Harry heard some shuffling inside, and almost hoped that Testig was with a student. The longer they could put this off, the more Draco would calm down.
Harry didn’t want Kevin and Lavaliere spared, not exactly. But he wasn’t sure that they deserved Testig’s vengeance.
“You have that expression of forgiveness on your face again. I hate it. That’s one reason I told you to let me handle it.”
Harry looked directly into Draco’s eyes and decided that he had no choice but to nod. The question he should probably be asking himself was not whether Kevin and Lavaliere deserved a punishment, but whether Draco deserved being told to keep silent or lie about what had happened, just so Harry could feel better.
And he didn’t. Harry knew that. He remained quiet when Testig opened the door and stared at them, then sniffed the air.
“You’ve used blue fire, Mr. Malfoy,” said Testig, with a tilt of her head and a slow spreading of her feathers that looked respectful. “Was it justified?”
“Entirely.” Draco drew himself up the way Harry imagined he would have done if he was a soldier before a leader he really admired. “Valena Lavaliere kidnapped my mate and were holding him in a box that bore magic which reacted badly to the touch of Veela wings and claws.” He abruptly seized one of Harry’s hands and turned it over. Harry jumped. He hadn’t expected that, and he wasn’t in time to hide the burns that mottled his palms and the heels of his hands.
Testig surged forwards and stood staring down at them for a moment. Then she looked back up, and Harry actually recoiled at what blazed in her eyes, although he hadn’t when he watched Lavaliere being scarred. “I see. You want us to take care of this?”
“I claimed the part of the revenge I safely could. I scarred her. I wanted to kill her, and her mate, but Harry…” Draco leaned towards Harry and let his wing fall softly over his hair and shoulders, and pulled him close, rubbing his cheek into his hair.
He didn’t say what Harry had done, but apparently Testig didn’t need it translated. “He decided to save your soul,” she said, with a nod. “Well done, Mr. Potter. In the meantime, I will lead several professors to this house, if you will give me the Apparition coordinates.” She paused, and gave Draco a look so piercing and serious Harry was surprised Draco didn’t flinch in front of it. “You take care of your mate, Mr. Malfoy.”
“I never intended to do anything else, Professor.” Draco’s head was held so high that Harry wasn’t sure he could see Testig’s face. He snorted a little, then gasped as Draco abruptly tugged him closer to his side.
“You hear that? You have more bruises than I thought. I’ll take you to your room.”
“Wouldn’t a healer be better?” Harry muttered, even as they turned down the corridor and Testig bustled back into the classroom. Harry could hear her telling something to her students, probably that class was dismissed. But his burns had begun to ache, and he had trouble enough keeping up with Draco and not letting his wings drag on the ground.
“If you had broken ribs or something similar to that, of course. But I’m your mate. I’m going to take care of you.”
Draco’s hand dropped into the middle of his back, radiating strength and warmth. Harry found himself closing his eyes without even meaning to. It was nice to lean back against a hand like that, to know it would support him no matter what.
“You can let go, Harry.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, and did.
*
Draco kept his word.
The minute they got back to his rooms, he drew his wand and cast a spell that cut Harry’s modified robes and shirt off him, fully exposing his skin and wings. Harry flushed a little, but Draco had seen it all before. He held still as Draco came up and cast a few spells that made his bruises and burns numb and dull.
Then Draco bent down and took up one of Harry’s hands, looking at the burns on his fingertips carefully. Harry watched him with a touch of caution, but to his surprise, Draco didn’t start ranting about how Lavaliere and Kevin deserved to die. He just considered the burns gravely for long minutes, as if he was deciding on the best way to heal them.
Then he reached down and slurped Harry’s fingers into his mouth. Harry gasped, eyes wide.
Draco traced his tongue carefully along Harry’s fingers, down into the webs of skin between them, and back up towards the tips. Harry had to close his eyes as his balls tightened. He knew Draco didn’t mean to arouse him, not really, and now he blushed for having such an inappropriate response.
“Do stop acting as if I’m about to snap at you, Harry. Saliva and sex are one way of healing.”
Harry opened his eyes. Draco had lifted his head and was smiling at him, but what mattered more to Harry was that his fingers were utterly clean of burns, except for some pink, new-healed skin.
“How did you do that?”
“I just told you,” Draco said, and his eyes flashed for a moment as he reached out, put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, and turned him around. “I’d be a piss-poor mate if I couldn’t heal you of your injuries.”
Harry bowed his head and sighed as Draco began to mouth at the feathers on his wings that had burned. “I know, but—I didn’t know you could do anything like this.”
“Hmmm. Well, they wouldn’t think you would need healing classes in your first fortnight.” Draco’s mouth got busy then, and Harry dropped bonelessly forwards. Draco lifted his head and laughed a little, ignoring the groan that Harry made when his lips weren’t on Harry’s wings anymore. “Let’s get you on the bed.”
Draco laid Harry out on his stomach, and Harry closed his eyes as Draco nipped and licked at his wings. Everything felt so exquisitely sensitive, right on the edge where he would have to either laugh or pull away.
But he didn’t have to do either; the pleasure never tilted over into pain, and all he did was relax and sigh further as Draco’s fingers surged through his feathers, combing and pulling, and then separated them.
“There. You’re healed, and you look beautiful.” For a moment, Draco’s voice deepened, and Harry wriggled his arse hopefully. But Draco ignored that and leaned over him with his hands braced on Harry’s shoulder blades, whispering into his ear. “I hope you never tell me again that I should spare an enemy. The only consolation I have is that Lavaliere won’t look beautiful.”
Harry reached back, groping for a moment until he found Draco’s hand, and could hold it. “I wanted to spare you from having to kill.”
“I told you. I want to kill willingly in those moments, and I wouldn’t feel the same way about it that I would have if I’d had to kill Professor Dumbledore. You can’t spare me from anything by stopping me.”
Harry snorted breathlessly and tried to wriggle over so he could see Draco’s face. “I didn’t get that impression from Professor Testig when we were telling her what happened and she—”
“Yes, fine, not all Veela agree,” Draco snapped, and draped himself over Harry, seemingly increasing his weight, so that Harry couldn’t turn over after all. “But you ought to know…Harry, you’ve suffered so much. You’ve had so few people to fight for you. I just want to fight for you, that’s all.”
“Some of that is because I had to save myself. And I didn’t have friends until I went to Hogwarts.”
Draco’s wings beat up and down, flashing like tossed silver coins in the corners of Harry’s eyes. “Telling me that isn’t a great way to make me happy with having to spare your relatives.”
“Just explaining the cause.” Harry sighed. “It does mean a lot that you want to battle for me. But I like the desire more than the actual battle. Okay?”
“Okay,” Draco said back, and then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of Harry’s neck. Harry arched, the desire to resist spilling out of him, and Draco chuckled against his skin. “Now I can take care of you the way I know you were thinking about back in that house, when I was trying so hard to seduce you.”
“Yes,” Harry said, voice thick, and let Draco pull him over. His wings were beating and quivering, but they couldn’t really go anywhere when they were beating against Draco’s knees. Draco got him settled on his side, up against pillows so his wings wouldn’t be trapped, and then reached out and picked up his wand.
Harry felt the wand probe against his arse, and instinctively spread his legs wider. Behind him, Draco’s breathing took on a hard edge.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” Draco said, and his voice was crooning and high, the way it had been when he was trying to convince Harry to let him kill Kevin and Lavaliere. There must be something wrong with me, Harry thought as he arched and twisted, made all the hotter by the thought of Draco barely controlling himself. “I wanted to hurt them, and then take you right there. Make them watch. All the things I can have that they never can. That’s what I wanted.” His voice was shrill near the end, whistles breaking out around his words.
“I wanted that, too,” Harry said, and he could never say that anywhere else, except here, in bed with Draco casting a lubrication spell on him and his desires running across his skin in little hot ripples. “I wanted—I didn’t want you to kill them, I never wanted that, but when you scarred Lavaliere…”
“Yes? What did you feel, Harry?”
Harry moaned. He didn’t want to say it, but Draco’s fingers might as well have reached down his throat and hooked his voice out. “I wanted you—to.”
“Yes, I know,” Draco said, and he sounded smug and desperate. He reached down and tested Harry’s hole for a second with his fingers, then shook his head. Hair and feathers whispered against Harry’s back. “I’m sorry. I can’t wait anymore.”
“I’ve been waiting since that house.”
Draco plunged into him, sudden and violent, his nails scraping Harry all over. Harry arched back as hard as he could, and felt Draco bury his head against Harry’s collarbone to escape his beating wings. Their wings tangled, and Harry shuddered again. The ripples and Draco’s cock were working him.
“You’re so,” Draco said, and didn’t finish, maybe couldn’t finish. Harry looked back at him once, and caught a glimpse through silver and white and blue and black feathers of Draco bobbing, his eyes fluttering like his wings, his cock sliding deeper into Harry with each strike. His claws slipped and shivered along Harry’s shoulders.
They didn’t hurt. They just drove him unbearably high, and Harry thought of falling off the cliff in Draco’s arms and wings, his own wings beating frantically behind him. He dropped his head forwards and accepted the way that Draco was winding his strokes up, and up.
He was going to come. It was a forgone conclusion. No one could suffer from this much pleasure and not do it. Harry knew it. His breath was coming faster, and faster, and he couldn’t—he couldn’t move—
“I told you I would do all the work.” Somehow—he must have had to lean all the way over and crane his neck and twist his head—Draco’s tongue found Harry’s ear, and Harry bucked and shouted. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
The pleasure boiled and puddled. He couldn’t move. Draco rode him, his wings flaring out hard and then coming to a shivering stop for a moment before they began to beat again. Harry caught his breath and coughed. It was the only movement he could make, that one little flutter of his lungs.
“Harry,” Draco cooed into his ear, and gripped him on the hips this time. Harry thought he was half-hovering above the bed, cutting in with his cock and not his claws, and then he tilted his head back and sang, like a phoenix, high and shrill and beautiful.
He sang Harry’s orgasm out of him, and Harry shouted in pure, helpless bliss. He rode the bucking pleasure, moving now, but still only twisting back and forth on his knees while his wings hammered, and Draco hummed into his ear and licked the lobe again.
Draco followed much the same way, except that it was a single, shrill note tearing its way out of his mouth, and a sudden stillness. Harry reached back and managed to slide his hand over the side of Draco’s neck and up to his jaw before Draco’s weight slumped against his back.
Harry lay down carefully, making sure to keep his wings free of the bed, and then Draco woke up and sighed and stood. “Stay here. I’ll go and get a cloth.”
Harry rolled his head and caught a glimpse of Draco as he went into the bathroom. “Why not just a charm?”
“I’m bloody exhausted, that’s why. And I want to clean you up.”
Harry closed his eyes and lay still, breathing, while Draco came back out with the warm, wet cloth. It took a while, which probably meant he’d cleaned himself up first. Harry couldn’t mind, not even when it led to him lying there in cooling wetness and his wings feeling as though someone had run them through a Muggle washing machine.
Draco was taking care of him.
And there was the touch of the warm cloth, actually before he’d expected it, smoothing down his hip and between his wings. Harry canted his head to the side and lifted his legs, and Draco chuckled and cleaned them up, too.
“You’re beautiful,” Draco whispered, and this time, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to disagree or turn away.
Draco cleaned him so thoroughly that Harry’s skin finally began to feel scrubbed and too pink, and he put his hand out so that he could stop Draco. He got a kiss on the lips, and then the fingertips, and Draco stepped back and went to put the cloth away.
When he came back, Harry sat up and reached out to his wings. He knew Draco had been burned, too, and—
His fingers found nothing except an expanse of snowy white feathers. He paused and blinked at Draco, knowing he looked stupid, but unable not to. “I was going to try to heal you the way you did me. But it’s—gone?”
“I told you,” said Draco, looking pleased as he drew Harry into another kiss. “Sex and saliva. Those heal a Veela.”
Which meant Draco had really healed himself, but when Harry tried to complain about that, already upset that he’d let Draco take on so much responsibility, Draco shook his head and kissed him hard. “We healed ourselves,” he said. “Together.” And he lay down and began idly playing with Harry’s cock, sending a flush of heat up it that made Harry stop complaining with a snap of his teeth.
Harry ended up on pillows, fluttering his wings and cooing while Draco sucked him off again.
And when they were both finally sated and Draco was asleep beside him again, Harry had to look at him and shake his head a little.
They were both good for each other. It was something Harry could never have imagined when he first changed into a Veela and saw the way that Draco was so intent on claiming him as his mate.
But they were here now, and Harry fell asleep, content, in his mate’s embrace.
*
Serena678: Thank you! Draco agrees, but, well, keeping his mate happy is more important.
SP777: Thanks.
Miki2345: Thank you!
KiDrspo: Sorry, I wasn't able to update last week. It's here now.
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