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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.

Chapter List
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Chapter Thirty-Three—Privacy Assumed and Prayers Answered
            “What do you want?”
            Draco’s voice was soft and fervent. Harry flushed a little. Draco had taken him into his rooms and seated him on the bed, which he had redone with a blanket that was the perfect shade of blue and pillows contoured to Harry’s body. That was part of the surprise he had been setting up the other day, when he had left Harry alone and Narcissa had found him.
            This time, though, Harry didn’t think he would be satisfied or put off with a redecorating project. He was leaning over in front of Harry, his wings twitching and arched so as to show off the softly glowing grey undersides, his eyes so focused that Harry blushed harder. It wasn’t anything Draco had done or said that caused that. Harry just wasn’t able to sustain that intensity of looking, which made him feel as though someone was running a slow, gentle, persistent hand all over his body.
            “Um, I want you near me,” Harry said. He wondered if that was the right thing to say. Did Draco want him to ask for a rare food or coins or his own personal house-elf? But Harry was still getting used to this business of wanting things and telling other people about them, and those were the words that popped out of his mouth.
            At the very least, he realized as Draco’s eyes brightened and he crooned, he’d made his Veela happy. Draco curled up on the bed beside Harry, turning his head so he could suckle a bit on Harry’s fingers. Harry spread out his hand and let him do it. He was losing his blush little by little, as he realized that Draco was also feeling this intensity floating between them, no matter what it was.
            Then Draco rolled to the side, his wings arching more so they didn’t get crushed against the pillows, and spread his arms. He seemed to be holding his breath.
            Harry knew why. It wasn’t so long ago that he would have refused the embrace, or perhaps worse in Draco’s eyes, only gone along with it because Draco needed him to. But now he could honestly cuddle closer with a sigh of his own desire, and Draco’s wings fell gently and draped over him like huge leaves.
            Draco breathed out against his neck. Harry stirred and shivered. Draco stroked his arms and shoulders with gentle hands, and drew him closer still, until Harry’s whole face was under the feathery wings.
            Harry tensed. Draco shifted the feathers a little so Harry could see a slit of light and air between them. Harry relaxed again. It was really only feeling as though he was completely shut in that he minded. Otherwise, Draco could hold him and Harry would happily go along with anything he wanted.
            “You’re so perfect for me,” Draco whispered, and rolled them slightly so Harry was flat on the bed and Draco was leaning over him, although still with a wing wrapped about his shoulders. “I never would have known how perfect if I’d let my disappointment control my reactions and keep me from being happy with you.”
            “Well, there’s a difference between perfect and good,” Harry felt compelled to point out. “I doubt if perfect mates would have fought all the time.”
            Draco flicked his hand as if to dismiss Harry’s concerns. “What matters is that we found our way to each other, and I don’t think anyone ever needs to try and take us apart again.” His wings folded gently in, and Harry could see the savage flickers in his eyes. “No one had better try to take us apart again.”
            “I don’t think most of them will,” said Harry. “I mean, my friends don’t want to, now.” Draco’s wings stirred for a second, as if he would disagree about Hermione, but he didn’t, and Harry went on. “Your mother seems to understand that it would be stupid of her to interfere.”
            “She doesn’t give up easily,” Draco said, and Harry thought it was disagreement until Draco stretched out and put his chin on his shoulder, lying on top of Harry like some huge, lazy, warm cat. “But she also doesn’t take well to conquest and humiliation. I think she would be more upset about having the story spread around than letting you stay with me.”
            “I didn’t mean to humiliate her,” Harry muttered, shaking his head. “And I won’t tell anyone. Do you think I should tell her that?”
            “No,” said Draco firmly. “It’ll do her good to believe that you might for a while, and that will keep her from making up any more plots.” He paused, and shifted on top of Harry. Harry spread his arms a little, wondering if Draco was trying to get comfortable. He didn’t know what else to do to hold Draco better, though. He was pretty thin and bony, and that was his fault.
            No, the Dursleys’ fault.
            Draco looked down at him as if he’d heard the thought, but he only ran a hand gently around Harry’s chin and up around his ear. Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He loved the warmth leaping and beating between them, and wondered if he could fall asleep like this.
            “Harry,” Draco breathed.
            “What?” Harry squinted back at him. Something important was happening, he thought, or at least important to Draco, from the rapt way he stared at Harry. But Harry honestly didn’t know what it was. He tried to open his eyes wider, tried to seem more alert and attuned to what Draco needed from him.
            “Could—could I have you? A bit of you?” Draco reached out and tugged on his hair. Harry rolled in the direction of that, startled by the spark it sent down his spine and into his belly.
            Draco, from his sudden stillness, was sensing that spark, and was more than intrigued. He ducked his head down, and his croon was deep and interested. Harry felt his face flare up a little, but he had to swallow and remind himself that he had shared more embarrassing things than this with Draco, and Draco had shown no intention of making fun of him because of them.
            “What do you mean?” Harry whispered back.
            “Further than kisses,” Draco said at once, and ran the hand that had been in Harry’s hair down Harry’s neck instead, around the curve of his shoulder, cupping and stroking as though he wanted to admire the muscle.
            Harry swallowed, remembering the tide of lust that had overwhelmed him before. What if that happened again? He honestly wasn’t sure sometimes what was him, and what might be repressed instincts coming to the surface, and what was the Veela bond.
            “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Draco added, drawing back and regarding him with a patient look.
            “But it would disappoint you,” Harry murmured, and reached up to touch Draco’s chest, laying one hand flat over his heart. The steady pounding there told him the truth. Draco’s heartbeat was pretty fast, but not always like that. Harry ought to know it by now.
            “Not as much as forcing myself on you would.” Draco caught Harry’s hand and kissed him in the middle of the palm, his gaze searing.
            “I know,” said Harry, and thought about it some more. Draco hovered above him, much more patient than Harry had thought he would be, watching Harry out of fathomless eyes.
            Harry thought about the way Draco had stood with his arms around him when they were confronting Narcissa, and how much he had liked it, and how he had wanted to come upstairs and be private with Draco. If Draco hadn’t suggested it, then Harry would have. He wanted to be with Draco. He liked being with Draco.
            And he thought he could change a few things about the way they were together, and not panic.
            He looked up, caught Draco’s eye, and nodded. Draco promptly sat up. Harry blinked, wondering if he was going to withdraw in offense because Harry hadn’t framed his approval with the right traditional words, or if he was going to get lube, or what.
            None of those things, he saw a second later. Something different. A white light shone behind Draco’s head for an instant like a halo. Then it glided, shimmering, down his arms, and his hair took fire, and his wings were beating and fanning the light over Harry. It was intensely warm, but not so much like a fire as like sunlight. Harry choked and rolled his face towards it.
            “Mine,” Draco whispered.
            “Yes,” Harry echoed, near-mindless. God, that light felt good. He spread his hand out, and it felt exactly like the few carefree moments when he’d sometimes lain on the grass at Hogwarts, in the sun, and all he’d thought about was being alive.
            Draco bent down and covered his face with delicate kisses. Harry wasn’t entirely sure that he was using his lips for all of them, because his large white wings were beating like a hummingbird’s, and it sometimes felt as though their tips were kissing Harry’s face, too.
            “So mine,” Draco said, and there was something like a sigh at the back of his voice now, as if he wished to spend ages contemplating Harry. Harry wished he would. At least, as long as he kept kissing like that.
            But then Draco reached down with one hand, although he never took his intent eyes from Harry, and Harry heard the sound of ripping cloth. That was sufficiently unexpected to make him arch his neck and turn his head.
            Draco was stroking Harry’s trousers off, with his claws. Harry couldn’t feel an inch of their sting, but down and down they went, and with them went his trousers. Harry watched in fascination as Draco neatly slit them off, and then pulled the ruined cloth away with a jerk that seemed to float Harry back into the air and down on the bed again. It was just, one moment he was lying on top of those ruined trousers, and the next second, he wasn’t.
            “Wow,” Harry breathed.
            “Yes, Veela can do some remarkable things,” Draco said, in a deeper voice than before, and Harry’s eyes snapped back to his face. Draco’s own eyes were deep and dark and wonderful, shining like pools of water under shade. Harry leaned up and kissed him, and Draco kissed him back, and got rid of his pants in the same way as the trousers.
            Harry arched up. This was no mindless wave of lust now. He was very aware of where Draco’s eyes were looking, and he was blushing endlessly, and he didn’t think the blush was going to go away any time soon.
            But the point was, the point was, that he felt wonderful while he was doing it. And he wanted Draco to see more, to touch, to taste, to take.
            Mine, he thought, putting his hand out to touch Draco’s hair at the same moment as Draco bent his head, and then Draco’s mouth was wrapping around him and heat flared like a coin flipping in radiance through Harry and he had other things to think about.
*
            It was more than obvious that no one had ever done this to Harry.
            Draco sucked hard, reaching out and behind Harry, touching his inner thighs and his balls and his hole, trying to see what he liked. The answer seemed to be everything. Harry was panting, jerking, crying out raggedly, and he was doing it every time Draco touched him. At one point he grabbed Draco’s hand and slid it firmly back onto his arse.
            Draco smiled, and cupped him there while he sucked harder. Harry’s head fell back onto the pillow in answer. His eyes were rolling when Draco saw them again, his eyelids fluttering constantly, his breath coming more softly now, but no less urgently.
            And then Draco felt a surge of arousal and pleasure in his chest that nearly made him let Harry’s cock fall out of his mouth.
            Harry whined and lifted his hips. Draco bent down, gave him a soothing lick, and began to suck again, even as he realized what it was.
            The bond had come to life, for more than a flash—because now Draco could feel the pleasure pulling like a cord all down the middle of his chest and up towards his neck. He could feel his own mouth around his own cock.
            He could feel, too, a hand on his arse. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and other than an increased pitch in Harry’s cries and a wriggling that let him know how much Harry liked that even without the bond, he felt the sharp pressure of fingernails on bare skin even though he was still wearing his clothes.
            This is the right thing to do. We both like it, and we can both feel it. This isn’t misguided lust because Harry has been suppressing his emotions.
            The confirmation of a rightness he had never expected to feel once he realized what kind of mate and bond he had made Draco bend down and suck so hard that it felt as if his teeth were going to fly down his throat. But it was exactly what both he and Harry had been waiting for.
            Harry writhed and snatched at Draco as if in warning, but then he came, and he didn’t have time to try and make Draco withdraw. Draco was glad of that, because it wasn’t as though he would have paid any attention anyway.
            The sensation of a hard, wet mouth drawing on him made him convulse and spill on the bed, flying specks of liquid crossing over with Harry’s orgasm. The bond gave a final flicker and faded out, as though it couldn’t sustain itself outside of that moment of intense emotion.
            Draco didn’t mind. He was content to know that the bond existed, now, and wouldn’t simply go on in that tattered state Aloren had described to them forever. It would come back. Draco could summon it back.
            “Did you feel that?” Draco couldn’t help whispering, though, leaning his cheek against Harry’s and wrapping his wings around them both. The light that he had started radiating when he realized Harry wanted him was gleaming and flapping around them both like a cloak blowing in the wind now. Draco concentrated, and it calmed down. Draco was glad. He didn’t want to walk around like some kind of glowing Lumos ball. That light was meant only for his mate, to soothe and relax him, or tell him that Draco was also ready to mate.
            “Feel like I had two cocks and a mouth on both and two arses?” Harry breathed. “Yeah.”
            Draco hadn’t actually expected an answer, if only because he had thought Harry would be too far gone to notice, and he bowed his head further and kissed him. Harry kissed back in exhaustion, his tongue slowly pushing at Draco’s. If he noticed and objected to his own taste, he didn’t say anything about it.
            He did reach down and trace a line lazily through the mess on Draco’s thighs. “Next time,” he said, “I want you to let me take care of that.”
            “If I don’t come from the sheer pleasure of having you ask,” said Draco. He could feel a surge in his body that would have led to a repeat performance immediately if his mate was also ready. “You’re sure?” It would have been fairly easy for Harry to think of a woman giving him a blowjob if he wanted to, but it would be a lot harder to pretend that his mate wasn’t male once he had a cock in his own mouth.
            “No, I asked because I’m planning to go out and make a comparison to Ron,” said Harry, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Draco, I want to. The same way I wouldn’t have said that I did want to do more than kisses if I wasn’t sure.”
            Draco did have to hiss a little at the way Harry had talked about sleeping with Weasley, even if he knew it was a joke. Harry rolled over, looking put upon, and hooked an arm around his neck. Draco found himself rather suddenly lying on top of Harry, his wings spread out and flailing instead of arching into a gracefully protective tent around his mate.
            “Listen,” said Harry gravely. “I don’t want anyone other than you. Maybe I would have, if you’d been later in coming to lay claim to me or if I hadn’t had a war to preoccupy me. But now I don’t. Okay?”
            And he flicked Draco on the nose.
            Draco had to hold still for a second before he could find the appropriate response. He would have known what to say to a mate who was talking seriously about staying with him, or to one who was reciprocating his love, but jokingly. He didn’t know how to handle both at once.
            Harry smiled suddenly. “And that’s why I’m good for you,” he said. “I push you. Make you stretch your boundaries and have to live with new situations that challenge you.”
            “You—you read my thoughts,” Draco said.
            “And why not?” Harry shrugged at him and pulled and prodded him across the bed until Draco was lying in another position that was evidently more comfortable for Harry, from the way he immediately snuggled up against Draco’s side. “We have a bond, don’t we? If it can come to life for sex, it can bloody well be useful other ways.”
            Lying with his wings half-crushed in this new and improbable position, his nose smashed against Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s arms uncomfortably tight around him…
            Draco never wanted to be anywhere else.
*
Meechypoo: Narcissa has realized the truth, although for her it’s so baffling that it will take a little longer to convince herself of it.
delia cerrano: Well, I hope this made up for it.
eros: You were right, it was.
Anon: Thank you!
I can pant with my tongue out, so I assumed it was possible for everyone.
I’m from the US.
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Nature of the Beast