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Nature of the Beast	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 48976 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Three—Conflicts and Compromises
            Harry cursed as he watched Malfoy fall unconscious. There went his last hopes that Malfoy had been mistaken or playing a prank on him or even just taking advantage of the Veela “instincts” that he said the change gave him to get one over on Harry. Harry didn’t think Malfoy would collapse like this and embarrass himself if there was any choice.
            “Harry, do something!” That was Ron.
            “What can I do?” Harry snapped, whirling on him. The Order of Merlin banged uncomfortably on his chest. “You said that he needs to know I’m going to submit to him! I can act, maybe, but I won’t fool him, and he’ll die without the proper emotions from me, won’t he?”
            “I don’t know,” said Ron, and hunched, tense, miserable, his eyes darting from Harry to Malfoy. “This hasn’t happened before. Can’t you just—go over and touch him, or something?”
            Harry didn’t think it would work, but he didn’t want Malfoy to die, either. He went over and crouched down beside Malfoy, taking his shoulder. It was utterly unresponsive, until the edge of Harry’s hand brushed Malfoy’s wing.
            Malfoy promptly breathed, which meant he hadn’t been until then, which made Harry shudder with a terror he could barely name. He didn’t like Malfoy, but God, what it would do to the peace process Harry was trying to start if Malfoy died. The peace Harry was trying to build back up between pure-bloods and Muggleborns would probably crumble utterly. There would be distrust and paranoia and accusations and gossip that could maybe lead someday to another war.
            Harry never wanted to fight another war as long as he lived. And that included a war with people like Malfoy who were annoying but not really evil. He scowled down at Malfoy. Why couldn’t he have found another mate and been happy, somewhere away from Harry?
            Malfoy’s wing trembled and shuddered, curling around the edge of Harry’s palm in a way that made it seem oddly like a hand. Then he rolled over and stared up at Harry. His face was lost and soft. “Hello?” he whispered, the sound ending in a sharp whistle that made Harry flinch back.
            “I don’t want you to die,” Harry told him. “But I can’t be your slave.”
            Malfoy closed his eyes. He was breathing, though, and continued doing that, one wingtip wrapped around Harry’s hand in that weird way. He rolled his head to the side and licked lips that were blue. Harry frowned. He didn’t understand the kind of things Malfoy was feeling. Beating wings, blue lips like he was cold, and he’d tried to hurt himself, too. What kind of weird Veela thing was this? Why did the Veela think they were better off having mates when it would cause them to hurt themselves like this?
            “Water?” Malfoy whispered faintly.
            Harry held up a hand when Kingsley started to move forwards. He understood the impulse, but he was there now, and maybe this would help bring Malfoy back to life. He flicked his wand out and conjured a glass; conjuring charms were ones he’d studied a lot when he was stuck in a room waiting endlessly for awards or trials after the war. Then he cast Aguamenti and filled the glass with water.
            By the time he held the glass to Malfoy’s lips, Malfoy was staring at him as if he was thirsty for Harry instead of the water. Harry held back the sharp sigh he wanted to give, and instead made sure that Malfoy swallowed. While he was swallowing water, he couldn’t talk.
            But Malfoy turned his head to the side soon enough, and Harry sighed aloud this time and lowered the glass to the floor, watching carefully. Malfoy hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand with his prehensile wingtip yet. But he hadn’t said anything, either. Harry didn’t know what was supposed to happen next.
            What actually happened next, whether or not it was supposed to, was Malfoy tightening his grip on Harry’s fingers until Harry thought he would cut the circulation off, and moaning softly, “I can’t believe that my mate had to help me instead of the other way around.”
            “Let’s pretend,” said Harry, in a sharp, bright voice, ignoring the way that Kingsley and Hermione and Ron were all trying to say something at once, “that we’re two normal human beings, not a screechy Veela and the helpless slave you think I should be. You’d think we could both defend each other sometimes, right?”
            Malfoy glared at him. “I am not screechy.”
            “But you’d think that,” Harry said. He and Hermione were the only ones with sense here, he thought. Well, and maybe Kingsley, too, but Harry didn’t know what side he was on yet. “It wouldn’t matter who gave the unconscious person on the floor water. He could hardly be expected to do it for himself.”
            “A normal dominant Veela wouldn’t ever end up on the floor when his mate needed his help and protection.” Malfoy lifted one hand to shield his eyes from Harry, as if this was a bad dream he needed to wake up from. Harry sympathized exactly, and that helped a little when he spoke next. He could make his voice softer.
            “I’m not talking about ending up on the floor when his mate needed help.” Maybe if he said it enough, the word “mate” would stop tasting strange in his mouth. “I’m talking about just ending up on the floor. It must happen sometimes when the dominant, or whatever, a person, ends up there and the other person helps him. And that’s not a debt or whatever. It’s just what a decent person would do. Let’s pretend that we’re both decent people—”
            “It’s obvious that you don’t think I am.”
            “No, someone who expects me to crawl on the floor and lick his shoes isn’t,” said Harry, dropping the pretense. This wasn’t fucking working. “Listen. I can’t pretend to be your good little slave, and I can’t sit here holding your wing for the rest of your bloody life. Will you just—”
            “Mate.”
            Malfoy showed his teeth in a silent snarl worse than a lot of words he could have said. If he was strong enough, Harry thought he would have launched himself at Ron. Harry angled his body in between Malfoy and Ron as it was, and said, as simply as he could, “What is it, Ron?”
            “I think you ought to talk in private. There are too many other people here, too many noises. That makes a dominant jumpy. Maybe he would calm down if you were in a small dark room without other people.”
            It would probably remind him of a broom cupboard off the Astronomy Tower and he’d jump on me immediately, Harry thought, but he retained enough sense, just, not to say it. He nodded. “All right. But we have to come to some sort of compromise. I can’t do everything he wants.” He started to stand up.
            Malfoy uttered an embarrassing whining noise and reached out after Harry with his arms and his wings. Harry’s stomach wriggled with an equally embarrassing mixture of nausea and pity. Malfoy would kick himself if he could see the way he was acting right now. The real Malfoy would, anyway.
            “Fine,” said Harry, and knelt down, and took a wing again. “Then can the rest of you lot clear out? And I’ll dim the lights and try to talk rationally to him.” He was pessimistic about it doing any kind of good. Whatever dominant Veela acted like normally, Malfoy acted like he didn’t want any compromises.
            Hermione said, “Should we? It feels like leaving a woman alone with someone who’s trying to rape her.”
            Ron hushed Hermione, and herded her out of the room. Kingsley was the last to leave, his eyes tracking back and forth thoughtfully from Malfoy to Harry.
            “You realize that this would make the kind of work you want to do extremely difficult, Harry,” he finally murmured.
            “God, I bloody know,” said Harry. He was considering all the many ways that Malfoy could warp and mess up his life, and that was the first one that had come to mind.
            Kingsley smiled slightly, nodded, and walked out. Harry drew his wand with his free hand and cast the charms that put up some silencing spells and some dimming spells on the room—but not so many that someone couldn’t come running and save him if Malfoy started trying to claw his face off.
            “All right,” he said, turning back to Malfoy. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to cause you to commit suicide. But you ought to know that I’m not going to crawl on the floor, or stop caring for myself, or stop defending myself or fighting. And I’m busy. I want to make sure that another war doesn’t happen, at least not in my lifetime. And no war with the Muggles. Can you fit in around all that, and we’ll try to see if we can forge a reasonable bond that can help you? That’s what I’m willing to compromise on. And not compromise on,” he added, deciding that he needed to, because Malfoy was staring at him with his mouth open.
*
            Draco had never known there was a chance that his mate could be like this. Nature should have forbidden it. If a non-submissive submissive mate had to exist, nature should have assigned him to a Veela who would like that sort of thing.
            But Draco needed to know where he stood. He needed someone who would admit that Draco could do things right, after the last few years of doing everything wrong. Draco knew that about himself. When his wings had grown, if not earlier, he had come to a crystalline understanding of himself, his own mind, his thoughts, what he required, what he wanted, and what he could live without.
            This wasn’t in any of those plans.
            Well, I suppose I at least know where I stand with Potter, Draco thought, as he saw the way that those green eyes glared impartially at him. He was an obstacle to what Potter wanted. Potter was going to accommodate him as little as possible, as easily as possible, and just go on.
            Draco hunched. What he needed was to be the center of his mate’s life.
            But if he also needed Harry Potter, maybe—he admitted the idea reluctantly—he also needed the work that would accompany Potter becoming a suitable mate. It was a longer courtship than he had thought he would need to undertake, but the lore contained some records of such courtships. That didn’t make it impossible.
            “All right,” he said. “I don’t—submissive mates usually don’t work outside the home, but I’m willing to let you do it.”
            He thought that was generous of him. He didn’t appreciate the wrinkled nose and curled lip Potter was wearing.
            “So they spend time doing nothing but—what?” Potter shook his head. “Looking after the house and the children?”
            “Of course not,” said Draco, a little shocked. “I have house-elves for that. You wouldn’t need to do any of those chores.” Maybe some mates of poorer Veela had to worry about things like that, but Potter never would.
            “I have particular reasons for disliking housework,” Potter mumbled, but it sounded as if he was talking to himself. He looked searchingly at Draco. “So what does the traditional submissive mate do other than sit on their arse all day long?”
            “They serve as the heart of the house,” said Draco, still insulted. He thought he might understand a little after hearing Granger talk about some women had been treated in some Muggle societies, but a mate was different. “They serve as the inspiration for their dominant mate. The dominants protect them and pamper them. They cooperate to form the eggs.” He thought Potter would like to hear that.
            But Potter looked, if possible, more revolted than before. “I spent seventeen years being a symbol for people,” he said, almost spitting the words. “Do you think I want to do it again?”
            “It looks to me like you’re doing it by involving yourself with the Ministry and accepting that Order of Merlin,” Draco retorted, gesturing to the ornament on Potter’s chest.
            “That can be the work that people think I’m doing, if they want. The real work is harder and longer and more lasting.” Potter leaned a little away from Draco. “You still haven’t said what you can compromise on. All you can do is talk about a role that I can’t play.”
            “But everyone wants someone to give them some attention and pampering,” said Draco, stupefied. He had wanted that, Pansy had, his mother had, even Crabbe and Goyle had. Before Draco had known himself to be a dominant, he had thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to be a submissive and receive care all his life.
            “That doesn’t mean they want it non-stop.” Potter rocked back on his heels with his arms folded. Draco swallowed. That motion of rejection still made his stomach hurt, although it wasn’t as bad as the insults. “Work with me here, Malfoy. You have to stop making assumptions about what ‘normal mates are like’ and ‘what everyone wants.’ Assume I know nothing. Assume I’m not normal.” Potter gave him a strange, dark smile. “Normal people don’t walk up to their enemies intending to sacrifice their lives to save the world.”
            Draco felt his feathers shift, curling like his claws into sharper points. Potter eyed them, but didn’t move away.
            “You’ll never have to do anything like that again,” Draco whispered. “I’ll protect you.”
            “Lucky for you that I changed my mind about being an Auror,” Potter said, and went on before Draco could explode at the mere thought of his mate placing himself in a dangerous situation. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll still be in danger. There are an awful lot of people who want to kill me. What are you planning to do about that? You can’t just accompany me and stand in front of me all the time.”
            “You could stay home,” Draco said, wondering how many times he would need to repeat it. “That’s the way a normal mating bond works.”
            “What did I tell you about assumptions?”

            Draco’s head was pounding, and this time, not because of a rejection by Potter. “That’s what mates do. It’s as much to soothe the dominant’s temper as it is to protect the submissive. I can’t stand it when you’re in danger.”
            “The one that’s the most danger to me at the moment is you,” said Potter, not moving. “A danger to my hopes of living the life I want. You have to work with me here, and sitting there and prating about the way you want to do things and nothing else won’t accomplish that. What can you compromise on? What can you not compromise on?”
            “I can’t compromise on having you out of the house on a regular basis. You have to stay there.”
            Potter spun his wand lazily through his fingers. “Try again.”
            “You asked me a question, and I told you.” Draco dragged himself up to a sitting position. “Just because you said that you—”
            “I said that I intend to go on living my life.” The laziness, this time from the look in Potter’s eyes, was really quite annoying, as though what Draco wanted didn’t ultimately matter more than what Potter did. “Now. I’m willing to avoid putting myself in obvious danger, to stay behind stronger wards, even to live at your house.” Potter grimaced, but Draco had the feeling that it was only skin-deep, as if Potter’s choice of living space didn’t matter that much to him. “But I’m not willing to give up everything I’m doing and behave like the normal mate that you know I’m not. Is that compromise acceptable or not?”
            “No.”
            “Why not?”
            “There’s still the chance that you could be in danger—”
            “And there’s the chance that I could be in danger even if I did everything you wanted.” Potter leaned forwards and poked Draco in the chest with his wand. “Did you know that a dragon tried to tear down the Ministry to get at me last month?”
            Draco stared at him. “What? Why?”
            “They couldn’t be absolutely certain, but by the time they managed to subdue the dragon, they found that it had magic hanging about its head and ears similar to the magic in the Dark Mark.” Potter shrugged and settled back on his heels. “When they removed that spell, the dragon lost interest in me. I think a dragon could do a lot of damage even to the wards on your Manor, right? Most of those old houses aren’t built to withstand a determined magical creature.”
            “Because wizards have proved our superiority and they don’t come near us to attack us,” Draco whispered, but his head was spinning so hard that he knew he would have trouble getting up from the floor. Potter had enemies that savage and that dangerous?
            Draco didn’t know if he could protect his mate from danger like that, as much as the realization made it hard to breathe.
            “So.” Potter flipped an eyebrow up at Draco. “I’ve made compromises with the Ministry security they wanted around me at all times, and with their longing to dress me up in nice robes and parade me around all the time, and with the press. I can do it with you, too. But you have to actually make them, not just sit there bleating about something that can never be a reality. What about it?”
            Draco winced. “First,” he said, “don’t use words like bleating. It makes me feel like I’ve attempted to fly through a steel bar.”
            Potter studied him, then nodded. “All right. I didn’t know that. I won’t. What else?”
            Draco was silent, looking at him. Potter was far different than Draco had thought, and not only because he wasn’t submissive. He seemed so tough. He had said that he could compromise, but Draco had the sudden feeling that that was because those compromises were only foam on the waves of the ocean to him; all the things about Potter that mattered, the important things, his values and his desires, were buried deep down, and hard to reach.
            Draco licked his lips.
            I could value a mate like that. Someone who has to be sought, who can’t be easily understood or conquered.
            He could. It wasn’t what he had been raised knowing he would have, and Potter’s sweet submission would still make him happiest. But it was possible that he could change his mind enough for this conversation.
            Because giving up Potter wasn’t an option. Perhaps even more so now that he knew what Potter was really like.
            He’s mine. And what is mine, I keep.
*
Eros: Harry won’t sleep with Draco to keep him from dying. He does allow Draco the chance to court him, but as you can see, he’s pretty set in his ways.
delia cerrano: Draco just marched up to him and told him he would essentially have to be a slave (and here, a housewife), though. I don’t think Harry can be blamed for reacting negatively.
SP777: Very temporary, yes.
moodysavage: Sorry! But you have to admit, it was fairly dramatic. ;)
Harry might find that kind of love appealing if Draco changes the way he expresses himself. Blaming Harry for not wanting him right away is not helping.
MoonlightVampiress: Not bursting into flames, but the consequences aren’t good for Draco.
Hunter: Thank you!
CareLessLover: I usually update once every week, or once every five or six days. I have one story that updates Tuesdays only, so that throws off the balance.
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Nature of the Beast