1

Harry scraped the remains of his treacle tart into his mouth, savouring every last morsel. His eyes, however, were currently occupied elsewhere, in pursuit of his favourite pass time of Malfoy watching. Obsessively stalking, Ginny called it, but Harry disagreed.

The blond Slytherin sat in his usual spot at the head of his table, flanked by the usual acolytes, who seemed to wait with baited breath for their leader's every word. Harry shook his head; he just didn't see what it was that made Malfoy so special.

Even after he had joined the Light side in the war against Voldemort, the Slytherin boy had remained an obnoxious, ferrety git, with the complete inability to say a nice word to anyone - his friends included.

A sharp dig to his ribs pulled Harry from his musings. He turned to find his two best friends watching him, a mixture of amusement and impatience on their faces.

"Honestly, Harry." Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. "If you could tear your eyes off Malfoy for just a moment, you would notice that Dumbledore is about to make an announcement."

Harry turned his head in the direction of the head table, and sure enough, there was the Headmaster, resplendent in purple velvet robes, on his feet, an amused smile on his face as he surveyed the assembled school.

"You know, Harry," Ron muttered. "You keep staring at Malfoy the way you have been, and people will start talking."

Harry choked rather violently on a mouthful of pumpkin juice, and was saved only by Ginny Weasley's rather hearty slap on the back.

"Yeah, Harry," she whispered, her lips close to his ear. "You wouldn't want people thinking that you liked boys, would you?"

Harry shot her a look that spoke volumes of what the consequences would be, should she decide to pursue that line of conversation. Ginny simply grinned in return and then turned her attention back to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore rambled in his own off-the-wall style for several minutes before finally taking pity on the confused student body.

"Therefore, we have decided that Hogwarts will host its very own Valentine's Ball this year. I'm sure you will agree that we could all use the opportunity to relax, and maybe take the chance to get to know your fellow students in a more informal setting."

The level of noise in the Great Hall rose noticeably. Though the reaction to the news seemed to be split, Harry noted.

On the one hand, there were numerous squeals of delight, originating mainly from Lavender and Parvati, but echoed heartily by Pansy Parkinson over at the Slytherin table. There were those, like Hermione and Ginny and, he suspected, Ron, who were clearly as excited, but refused to partake in such a girlish activity.

Then, there was a fairly large group, made up mainly of males, and Millicent Bulstrode, who, like Harry, viewed the impending event with gut twisting horror.

Dumbledore had swiftly retaken his seat after imparting his bombshell - obviously well aware that he had lost his audience.

"Bloody hell," Ron commented. "That doesn't give us much time to find dates."

"Dates? Dumbledore didn't say anything about needing a date." Harry's eyes widened in horror at the thought, and he was slightly gratified to see a similar expression on Neville's face.

"Of course you need a date, Harry," Lavender butted in scornfully. "It's a ball."

"And don't look at me," Parvati added with a snort. "I'm still recovering from the indignities of the Yule Ball."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the input from Gryffindor's resident airheads. "Ignore them, Harry. You'll have no trouble finding a date. I'm sure the girls will be just lining up to go with you."

"Yeah," Ginny added with a grin. "I'm sure that the Boy Who Lived would be able to get any girl he wanted."

Harry shot her a meaningful glare, and Ginny promptly subsided with a quiet snicker.

"I think I'm gonna ask Mandy Brocklehurst," Ron said, eyeing the Ravenclaw table speculatively.

"And it'd be her brains you're after, would it?" Seamus enquired, grinning madly.

"Yeah, right," Ron scoffed. "You've heard what Terry Boot says about her. Apparently she's a right dirty…"

One glimpse of Hermione's forbidding glare caused the words to die on his tongue.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, though Harry privately thought he didn't look remotely remorseful.

"I should think so, too. It's not nice to spread rumours."

"But it's true," Ron protested. "Seamus, tell her."

Seamus nodded in corroboration, before he, too, quailed in the face of the Head Girl's stern expression.

"Well, I'm going to ask Draco Malfoy," Lavender announced, despite not having been asked.

Parvati let out a squeal. "Oh! But I was going to ask him."

Lavender merely smirked at her supposed friend, and gave a toss of her long hair. "I hear he prefers blondes."

"Who cares?" Ron declared. "He's a Slytherin."

"He's hot," Parvati replied, to a chorus of agreement from the surrounding females.

Ron spluttered his outrage at this statement.

"I know he's a git, but he is quite good looking," Hermione commented. "Don't you think so, Gin?"

"Yep." Ginny nodded emphatically. "He might be an arse, but what an arse it is." She then sat back in her chair, a satisfied grin on her face as she took in the apoplectic expression on her brother's face.

"Harry! Talk some sense into them," he demanded weakly.

Harry merely smiled sympathetically before allowing his gaze to drift, once again, in the direction of the Slytherin table.

Forcing himself to appraise Malfoy with an unbiased eye, Harry was a little disturbed to find himself in agreement with the Gryffindor girls. Watching him, as he laughed with his friends, the candlelight playing off his blond locks, Harry found that Malfoy was actually very attractive. When it wasn't twisted with anger or malice, the Slytherin boy's face appeared softer, and his eyes had something of a twinkle that would make Dumbledore proud.

A little horrified by this revelation, Harry turned away quickly, completely missing the knowing smile that passed between Ginny and Pansy Parkinson.

Draco struggled to keep a smile on his face, whilst inwardly seething. He didn't for one minute buy the old fool's explanation for this impromptu ball.

Dances were a rarity at Hogwarts; in the last six years, there had been precisely one. And that was only held because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Draco glared in the direction of his Head of House, and found him reluctant to meet his gaze. That decided it for him; there was definitely more to this dance than a chance to relax and mingle. And Draco rather suspected it had his mother's interfering fingerprints all over it.

The sourness of his own mood had not managed to affect his dinner companions, however. Pansy and Daphne were already engaged in in depth discussions regarding possible attire, and bemoaning the lack of time, and opportunity to select anything new.

"We'll have to get together one evening, so that we can go over our outfit ideas," Pansy said suddenly, turning her attention to him.

Draco scowled. "I am not going," he snapped.

Pansy looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before she laughed lightly. "Don't be silly," she chided good-naturedly. "Of course you're going. Valentines is a big day, especially for you."

Draco's scowl darkened at Pansy's last words, but he chose to ignore them. "Even if I were to attend this travesty of an event, I'm quite capable of selecting my own attire without any help from you."

"But, Draco, we need to make sure we don't clash. Plus, you'll need to know what colour corsage to get me."

Draco's scowl faded and a smirk slid over his face instead. "Very sure of yourself, aren't you? Who said I was planning to ask you?"

"Because no one else would put up with a date who stares at other blokes' arses while they're dancing."

Draco choked on his drink. "One time!" he spluttered. "You make me sound like some kind of prowling deviant."

Pansy brushed his words aside with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Anyway, there's no one else for you to ask. Daphne and Tracey already have dates, and you know you won't take anyone from another house."

Draco looked a little stunned. "How can they have dates already?" he protested. "It was only announced ten minutes ago."

"Well, while you were busy indulging in a fit of sulks, Blaise and Theo asked them."

"There's still Millicent," Draco pointed out, suppressing a faint shudder; she was too manly, even for him.

Pansy shook her head pityingly. "Millie's going with Crabbe and Goyle."

"Both of them?"

"Yep. You know those two do everything together."

"Yes, but I didn't realise that included Millicent."

Now it was Pansy's turn to shudder. "That was a mental image I didn't need. I may have to Scourgify my eyeballs later."

Draco turned and looked to where the three bulky Slytherins sat, huddled together, further down the table. They looked decidedly…friendly.

"I'll be your date on one condition," he said decisively. "I'm sharing your bed that night. There's no way I'm running the risk of seeing those three frolicking around the dorm."

Pansy grinned. "Okay. But, you know, it might not be necessary."

Draco watched his two bodyguards fawning over their…girlfriend. "I'm not so sure. Have you seen the glint in Crabbe's eyes? Not even my parents could afford the therapy bill that that experience would necessitate."

Pansy chuckled at this. "No, I didn't mean that. I just meant that…well, it's Valentine's, isn't it? You might have found your mate."

Draco treated his friend to his fiercest Malfoy Death Glare. "Remember that conversation we had about you learning to hold your tongue?" he enquired coolly.

Pansy simply nodded, a wary expression on her face.

"Well, if you mention the 'm' word again, you won't need to worry about holding it. After all, it's very hard to hold what isn't there."

Pansy flushed slightly and bit back a scathing reply; one look at Draco's face told

her he was likely to make good on this threat.

Severus Snape was carefully ladling a potion into a delicate glass vial, when his office door burst open, and a blond whirlwind entered.

"He knows, doesn't he?" Draco snapped without preamble, allowing the door to slam behind him.

Snape scowled at his favourite pupil, and then went calmly about cleaning up the now-spilt potion. After he had cast a thorough Cleaning Charm on both himself

and the workbench, he turned to face his godson.

"I suggest you control yourself, Draco. I will overlook your rudeness this once, as you are clearly distressed about something, but I will not tolerate further childish outbursts."

Draco's head drooped slightly. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted. Now, why don't you tell me what's got you in such a state?"

Draco's head snapped up again. "Dumbledore knows, doesn't he? About me, I mean."

"You are referring to your heritage, I presume, rather than just your mere existence?"

"Yes," Draco replied shortly.

"And what, may I ask, has led you to such a conclusion?"

"It's this Valentine's Ball charade of his. There's more to it than the old man's letting on. It's too much of a coincidence. Has my mother been here?"

"I don't believe that Narcissa has visited the Headmaster, though she did express an intent to write to him."

"And you didn't think to stop her?" Draco demanded, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You forget yourself, Draco," Snape replied sharply. He watched the discomfort spread over his godson's face. "You know as well as I do, that nothing on earth can stop your mother, once her mind is made up. Something I believe your father had to learn the hard way."

Draco acknowledged the truth of this statement; stubbornness was definitely a Black trait.

"But it's so humiliating," he whined. "It's like they're my pimps, or something. Setting up this dance just so they can get me mated."

Snape couldn't help but chuckle; it was a deep, throaty sound, that would have come as a surprise to most people, who thought him devoid of all emotion, save anger.

"It's not funny. It's bad enough that I keep being molested by lust-crazed idiots between classes, without my mother trying to fix me up with some complete stranger. And for the rest of my life, too."

"You do exaggerate, Draco. You have the dampener-"

"Damn it, Severus, it's not working anymore. I woke up this morning and Vincent was trying to climb into my bed. Do you have any idea how traumatising it is to see a semi-naked Crabbe crawling up the bed towards you? Let me tell you, it's not an experience I care to repeat."

Only his closest friends would have recognised the Potions master's facial tic for what it was: amusement. However, he restrained from laughing at his godson's predicament.

"Draco, you knew this would happen eventually. Your Veela side is growing stronger as the traditional mating approaches."

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I've asked you not to use that word. It makes me sound like some kind of animal."

Snape sighed. "There's no point in you fighting this; it's part of who you are. Your father had to deal with it when he was your age, and his father before him. It's a rite of passage."

"Yes, well, my father got my mother for a mate. Who in Merlin's name am I going to get landed with? There isn't a boy in this school that I would want to spend the night with, never mind the rest of my life."

He paused here before looking at his godfather with horrified eyes. "What if it's a girl?"

Snape allowed a small smile to show on his face this time. "It won't be a girl," he reassured. "If you had bothered to read any of the literature that I supplied you with, then you would know that."

Draco slumped into a nearby chair, a petulant pout marring his good-looking face. "I don't want to be a Veela," he whined. "Can't I just keep wearing this for the rest of my life?"

"You know you can't. The dampener was only ever a temporary measure. You said it yourself; its effects are starting to wear off."

"What about that potion I read about? That works, doesn't it?"

Snape settled into a chair opposite his godson and rubbed tiredly at his face. "Draco, we've been over this repeatedly. That potion is only effective in the short term. Like the dampener. Prolonged use of it will cause irreparable damage to your cerebral cortex."

Draco slumped back in his chair, arms folded tightly across his chest, and a severe scowl on his face. "There has to be a way around this. I can't go the rest of my life having random people pawing at me. Some of them are Hufflepuffs!"

Snape sighed. "There is a way," he agreed. "Once you are successfully mated, your pheromones will become attuned to your mate. And although the allure will still be present, it won't be nearly as potent as it is currently."

"And in the meantime I just have to put up with being molested? Is that what you're telling me?"

"It is only for a few more weeks, and I'm sure that you are more than capable of defending your honour in the meantime. I've seen some of the curses that your father taught you."

Then, spotting the gleam in his student's eyes, he added, "And nothing fatal, mind. Or permanently disfiguring."

Draco pouted again. "Spoilsport."

"And finally, Potter and Malfoy."

Harry gathered up his belongings and made his way over to the Slytherin side of the classroom. He could feel the weight of Professor Snape's malevolent gaze on him, but ignored it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

Really, Harry reflected, you'd have thought that Snape would get tired of being so predictable.

He stumbled slightly as he neared Malfoy's table, tumbling into the vacant chair with more speed than grace.

"Potter. A pleasure as always." Malfoy's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Falling for me already, I see."

"You wish," Harry muttered, busying himself with arranging his textbooks so that he could avoid meeting the other boy's gaze. The last thing he wanted was for Malfoy to see how flushed his cheeks were and jump to conclusions.

With an overly dramatic flourish of his wand, Snape listed the instructions for that day's potion on the board in front of them. "You will follow these instructions to the letter," he snarled. "Any deviation could have explosive results."

He paused here, and his intense gaze swept over the assembled group. "Due to the complexity of this potion, I have paired the more incompetent among you with a more highly skilled student. I do not expect to see their work hampered by your ineptitude."

Harry didn't miss the meaningful stare that was aimed, exclusively, in his direction. Nor, it seemed, did Malfoy, who snickered softly.

A swirl of black robes followed and Professor Snape disappeared into his private office.

"I'll get the ingredients, shall I?" Harry offered.

Malfoy raised a brow at this; though it was clear he had no intention of completing such a menial task himself.

Harry headed off in the direction of the store cupboard, relieved that the first potential flashpoint of the day had been negotiated without incident.

"Pass us those beetle wings, mate," Ron asked from behind.

Harry passed the jar in question to his friend and went about gathering the rest of his supplies.

"You got stuck with the donkey work as well?" Ron continued, making a long arm for the dried slugs.

Harry just shrugged. "I offered."

"You feeling alright?" Ron teased, making as if to feel his friend's forehead.

Harry batted his hand away. "No point getting into a row over it. You know Snape only pairs us like this so he can get a rise out of us. He's just praying one of us kicks off, so he can take points off Gryffindor."

Ron snorted. "He'd have to take a hell of a lot of points. Have you seen the hourglasses lately? We're a dead cert for the House Cup this year."

"Very sure of yourself, aren't you, Weasley?"

Both boys turned around and saw Pansy Parkinson leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Nothing wrong with being confident," Ron muttered defensively.

Pansy pushed away from the doorway and walked closer. "And I'll bet you've an awful lot to be confident about," she commented, running her gaze suggestively down Ron's body.

Ron flushed as red as his hair, grabbed the remainder of his ingredients, and scurried from the room with a high-pitched, "Eeep!"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's discomfort.

"Something amusing, Potter?" Pansy enquired, stepping closer still.

Harry fumbled the jar in his had, almost dropping it, before he too fled.

Pansy watched him go, a broad grin on her face. "Gryffindors," she commented to Blaise Zabini, who had entered in search of his own supplies.

He nodded his agreement, but didn't miss the glint in his friend's eyes. "Weasel or Scar head?" he asked, without further explanation.

Pansy, it seemed, fully understood the question. "Oh, the Weasel, definitely. It's that red hair and fiery temper. Plus, I heard from Lavender Brown that he's a demon in the sack!"

"You're such a slut, Pans." Blaise grinned.

Pansy gave a toss of her long, dark ponytail. "You're one to talk."

When Harry got back to his seat, he found it already occupied - by Zacharias Smith. Finding himself ignored, he coughed loudly, clearly indicating his presence.

Such subtleties were clearly beyond the blond Hufflepuff. Harry had never been particularly fond of Smith; he had been such a prat during the D.A. in their fifth year.

He looked edgily in the direction of Snape's office. His luck being what it was, Snape was bound to appear and hold him personally responsible for the current situation.

It was Malfoy, of all people, who came to his aide. "I believe Potter would like his seat back," he commented coolly.

"You don't mind, do you, Harry?" Smith replied, his gaze never once wavering from Malfoy's face.

"Actually," Harry began.

"So, I was thinking," Smith continued, as if Harry had disappeared. "Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend." He gazed up at Malfoy coyly, from beneath lowered lids.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and Harry couldn't help but grin to himself as the Hufflepuff boy remained oblivious.

"I think Millicent is waiting for those ingredients."

Malfoy gave a slight shake of his head, causing strands of silken hair to fall over his face. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was as soft as it looked. Clearly, Smith had the same thought, as he reached out and clumsily brushed the hair away.

Harry knew what was about to happen a split second before it did; he'd seen those grey eyes narrowed at him in a similar fashion on numerous occasions.

Malfoy's wand was levelled on the Hufflepuff, his expression icy. "The next part of you that touches me, you won't be getting back." His tone was so cold that Harry had to suppress a shudder.

Smith appeared crestfallen. His cheeks flushed, shoulders sagged, and his head drooped in disappointment. He slid out of Harry's chair. "'M sorry, Draco," he mumbled, his expression so woebegone that Harry almost felt sorry for him.

Instead, he slid into his chair with relief, and shot a wry smile at his partner.

"Not a word," Malfoy snapped, putting his wand away.

The lesson progressed without further incident, for which both boys were extremely grateful. Although, Harry struggled to ignore the penetrating glare coming his way from a certain Hufflepuff.

He tried his hardest to focus on the potion they were making, and actually found himself admiring Malfoy's potion making skills.

Having partnered Hermione for most of the last six years, Harry was more than used to having a competent partner. Which, considering his lack of expertise in this area, was something the entire class should be grateful for.

But, watching Malfoy, as he deftly sliced their Arrowroot, Harry realised that this was Potions taken to a whole new level. There was concentration on the Slytherin's face, that was a given, but there was something else also. Something Harry was loath to call passion, but found that no other word would do.

Malfoy not only excelled at the subject, but he clearly loved it too.

As Harry watched his partner's long, slender fingers, precisely wrapped around the glass stirring rod, his eyes were suddenly drawn to the other boy's arm. Glinting against the marble-like skin of Malfoy's wrist was the most beautiful band of engraved silver that Harry had ever seen.

Before he realised what he was doing, his hand was stretching outwards, fingertips itching to trace the intricate patterns on its surface. So consumed was he by this desire, that Harry never even stopped to consider what Malfoy's reaction to this action would be.

In fact, Malfoy's reaction was somewhat delayed. It took him several seconds before the reality of the situation made itself known. "You're touching me, Potter," he muttered, glaring fiercely at his partner.

Harry seemed not to hear him, but continued stroking his fingers over both the bracelet and Malfoy's wrist. Finally, Malfoy snapped. He batted Harry's hand away angrily, causing it to impact with their cauldron, sending the majority of its contents down the back of Padma Patil, who sat in front of them.

Padma's shrieks roused Snape from the depths of his office. He swept back into the classroom and took seconds to survey the scene before handing down his judgement. Gryffindor swiftly found itself minus fifty points, and Harry found himself in possession of several nights of detention with his 'favourite' teacher.

"I haven't noticed it," Hermione admitted, a frown on her face that she always wore when puzzling out new information. She reached for a sheet of parchment and took up her quill. "Describe it to me."

Harry slumped down onto the sofa at her side, already regretting his earlier impulse to see her advice. "Umm, I dunno. It was a silver bracelet, and it had a kind of pattern on it."

Hermione glared. "You've just described a piece of jewellery owned by half the witches in this country."

"But they're girls," Harry pointed out defensively.

Hermione's glare didn't waver and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"It was about two inches wide, and the pattern was…well, it looked like wings. Lots of wings, going all the way round it."

"And you said you felt drawn to it?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Once I spotted it, I just couldn't stop staring. It was almost like there was this voice inside my head telling me to touch it."

"You didn't, though, did you?"

Harry flushed slightly and nodded again. "I couldn't help it. It was almost like Imperius. You don't think it's some kind of Dark artefact that controls people, do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you really have to get over this fixation you have on Malfoy. Much as it pains me to say this, he's not evil; he fought on our side during the war. And anyway, you're not affected by Imperius, so it can't be that."

"But how do you explain-"

"I don't know," Hermione interrupted. "But if it will make you feel better, I'll look into it."

"Please. And for your information, I'm not fixated on Malfoy at all. Zach Smith, on the other hand…"

"You're fixated on him?" Hermione demanded incredulously.

"Merlin, no! I mean that he's got a thing for Malfoy. I swear he was trying to ask him for a date in Potions today. And he touched his face." Harry paused and grinned at the memory. "I thought Malfoy was going to kill him."

"Now that you mention it, something very similar happened in Ancient Runes yesterday. Terry Boot actually offered to walk Malfoy to his next class, and tried to carry his books for him, too."

Harry just snorted. "I'm surprised the snobby git didn't just let him. He's probably used to having servants fetch and carry for him. That's probably what the bracelet's for, to turn us all into his willing slaves."

"I don't think so," Hermione said thoughtfully. "He looked awfully embarrassed by it at the time."

Harry shrugged. "Who can figure out why those Slytherins do anything. Speaking of which, I'd better get off. Don't want Snape taking more points off us."

Harry reluctantly made his way down to the dungeons for this detention with Snape, all the way cursing Malfoy for his predicament.

During the war, Harry had been forced to work closely with the snarky Potions master, and whilst they certainly hadn't become friends, a sort of cautious truce had sprung up between them. Harry had always fancied that it was the result of mutual, yet begrudging respect for the other's work.

Once Voldemort was defeated, and they had returned to Hogwarts, Snape seemed to slip easily back into his favoured role as bad tempered teacher. But Harry realised there wasn't the usual venom behind the words, and he definitely spent less time in detention than in previous years.

Which was why he held Malfoy entirely responsible for his current situation. Harry scolded himself mentally for being so stupid as to fall into whatever trap the Slytherin boy had laid for him this time.

There had to be more to that bracelet than simple jewellery, Harry was convinced of that. There was no way that he would be that drawn to a simple trinket. And with Hermione on the case now, Harry had every confidence of getting some answers soon.

As he rounded the last dimly lit corner, Harry spotted the object of his thoughts. Malfoy was leaning casually up against the dungeon wall, a bored expression on his face.

His companion seemed oblivious to his disinterest. Lavender Brown gazed up at him through lowered lashes, one hand twirling in her flowing blond locks.

Stepping closer, Harry was surprised to fee the beginnings of irritation rising within him. A soft, yet insistent voice, in the back of his mind, was suggesting to him that Lavender was standing entirely too close to Malfoy. Harry found himself agreeing with this, and felt a sudden impulse to go and drag her forcibly away.

Just as his foot moved forward, as if of its own volition, Harry checked himself. Shaking his head to clear it of such irrational thoughts, Harry realised that he needed to get as far away from the other two as possible.

But the problem was that Malfoy was stood outside the Potions classroom, and Harry had detention with Snape, inside that classroom. So unless he wanted to spend the rest of term scrubbing cauldrons, Harry was going to have to control himself sufficiently to negotiate the final few yards to his destination.

Lavender's hand was now resting tentatively on Malfoy's forearm, her fingers tracing slowly upwards. Harry recognised the familiar tic of annoyance in the other boy's jaw, but was surprised to see that his wand remained firmly in his pocket. Maybe Malfoy's pureblood principles didn't allow for the hexing of girls, Harry thought.

"So, I was wondering," Lavender simpered. "If you would come to the ball with me? I promise I'll make it worth your while."

There was no mistaking the suggestive leer in her tone, or the way her body pressed up against Malfoy.

Harry was faintly gratified to notice the somewhat horrified look in the other boy's eyes. Malfoy tried to extricate himself from Lavender's embrace, but she was having none of it.

When her fingers began tugging forcefully at the buttons on Malfoy's robe, Harry had had enough. However, before he could stride to the rescue, someone else intervened.

Harry had never before been so pleased to see Pansy Parkinson. The petite Slytherin girl had the tip of her wand pressed into the tender flesh of Lavender's throat.

"Back off, Brown," she warned, and Harry could have kissed her. Well, almost, but she did seem to be standing awfully close to Malfoy too.

Lavender took one look at Pansy expression and promptly fled to the relative safety of Gryffindor tower.

Pansy then turned her wrath onto her friend. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Malfoy snapped petulantly. "I was minding my own business, and she just started groping me."

Harry was amused to note that Malfoy quailed in the face of Pansy's temper, much as he did with Hermione. It seemed that some things didn't change, no matter what house you were in.

Pansy grabbed her friend's arm. "C'mon. Let's get you back to the common room. You know better than to wander around alone. It's not safe for you right now."

"I wanted to see Professor Snape," Malfoy muttered sullenly, but allowed himself to be pulled along regardless.

Harry watched the two Slytherins walk away with a sense of relief, the slightly fuzzy sensation in his head clearing. A quick look at his watch showed him he had mere seconds before his detention was due to begin.

He hurried the short distance to the Potions classroom and entered quickly.

"Ah, Mr Potter. So good of you to join me."

Harry wisely said nothing, but slid into a vacant seat and looked at his teacher expectantly.

"I'm curious, Potter, as to your explanation for this morning's debacle. Is it now common practice for you to molest your fellow students?"

"No, sir!" I didn't…I mean…I couldn't help it."

Snape raised a brow at this. "Indeed. So it was Mr Malfoy's fault, for being so irresistible. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. No. I'm not sure." Harry couldn't think straight under that penetrating gaze. "It was that bracelet or his," he muttered defensively.

Harry's eyes were fixed on his desk at that point, so he missed the way that Snape's eyebrows show upwards at his last words.

"You will find the dirty cauldrons in the sink at the back of the room. Once you have cleaned them all, without the aid of magic, you may leave."

Harry looked up in surprise. "You're not staying?"

Professor Snape sneered in return. "I, unlike you, have important business to attend to." With those words, and an impressive swish of his robes, he promptly left the room.

"Well, that's certainly interesting." The Headmaster sat back in his chair, hands steepled under his chin.

"Interesting? I tell you that Potter is Draco's mate, and that's all you can say. It's a bloody nightmare is what it is."

"Calm down, Severus. There is no point in getting worked up over this. We do not even know for certain that it is true."

Snape scoffed at this. "Did you not hear what I said? Potter saw the dampener. The only way that is possible is if he…" He trailed off here, an expression on his face showing just how distasteful he found this situation.

"That may be," Dumbledore agreed. "But I have found, in the past, that where Harry is concerned, anything is possible."

A derisive snort escaped the Potions master's lips, but his Headmaster ignored it. "Would it really be so bad, Severus? There are a lot worse possible outcomes of this situation."

"Such as? Tell me what could possibly be worse than this? Those two have hated each other since the day they met."

"But I am led to believe that the strength of the Veela bond would overcome any of their previous…objections." Dumbledore leant forward and took hold of the steaming pot of tea on the desk in front of him. "Tea?"

Snape nodded his assent. "In theory, yes. But as you said earlier, where Potter is concerned, things rarely go as they should."

"He may surprise you yet," Dumbledore commented, sipping from his china cup.

"I won't hold my breath for it. I'm serious, Albus. I can't foresee a way that this situation could possible turn out to be anything other than an unmitigated disaster."

"How so?"

"Draco is already struggling to come to terms with his heritage. It would not take much to push him into outright rebellion against it. And if there is one thing guaranteed to do that, then discovering Potter is his mate is it."

"So you believe that Mr Malfoy may refuse to accept his destiny? Always assuming that it is to be Harry."

Snape placed his cup gently back onto its saucer. "Yes, I do. Even taking into account the great risks to his own mental and physical well-being. And even if, by some miracle, we can get him to accept it, it will only make it a thousand times harder when Potter rejects the bond."

Dumbledore's blue eyes gazed at his friend in silent contemplation for a moment. "You think that Harry would refuse?"

Snape nodded sharply. "Of course. You can't tell me that you think Potter would agree to this bond, under any circumstances. To be bound to a boy he despises for the rest of his life."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I had hoped that you had gained a greater insight to Harry during the war. But it seems that he is still a complete mystery to you."

Snape opened his mouth to refute this, but Dumbledore waved him silent. "No, Severus, you need to hear this. Harry has his faults, I won't deny that; he can be thoughtless, foolhardy, and hot-headed. But at the core of it all, he is a decent boy. Loyal, kind, brave, and more loving than anyone growing up as he did should be."

Snape shifted impatiently. "I didn't come here to listen to you extolling Potter's virtues," he muttered.

"The point that I am trying to make, is that Harry would never willingly, or knowingly hurt another person. He's too much Lily's son for that. If, as you say, he is Mr Malfoy's mate, then I sincerely doubt that he would refuse the bond. Not knowing what the consequences would be if he did."

Snape drank his tea, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Let us hope you are right."

"Indeed. Now there is one bright side to this, however," Dumbledore commented, a bright twinkle in his eyes.

Snape raised an eyebrow in question.

"You will get to have the pleasure of telling Lucius Malfoy that he has Harry Potter as a son-in-law."

Even the dour Potions master could not fail to see the humour in that, and a dry chuckle escaped his lips. "A bright side indeed," he mused.

"What I propose," Dumbledore said after a moment, "is that we ask Remus to have a word with Harry about this. After all, he is the closest thing to a parent that the boy has."

"I suppose that's not a bad idea," Snape agreed begrudgingly; he was still smarting over the Werewolf's return to teaching. "But just a general chat. I don't want him being given specific details of Draco's private confidences."

"Of course not," Dumbledore agreed. "It would just be to sound him out, get him used to the possibility of such things. I think also that it may be expedient if we were to arrange for them to spend more time in each other's company."

Snape nodded, knowing full well that the Headmaster would do as he pleased regardless of anyone else's input.

"Excellent. I will speak with their other Professors later."

Pansy slumped down into the sofa nearest the fire, and promptly found Draco's feet in her lap.

"Comfy?" she asked archly.

"Very. I don't suppose you fancy giving me a foot massage?"

Pansy screwed up her snub nose. "I can't think of anything I'd enjoy less. Apart from possibly massaging Goyle's feet."

Draco just grinned smugly and wriggled his toes enticingly. Pansy gave them a sharp smack. "What have you done to Theo?" she enquired. "I looked for you in the dorm earlier and he's in bed, with the hangings drawn. Blaise says he's been like that all evening and he refuses to come out."

"Ah." Draco had the good grace to appear sheepish. "I came back to the dorms during dinner. I wanted a shower, you know?"

Pansy nodded, because she did know. With the increasing potency of his allure, Draco had found that the only safe time to shower was when he was alone.

"Well, this damn thing was annoying me, so I took it off." He indicated the dampener with a wave of his hand.

"Draco, you didn't," Pansy chided.

"I thought I was alone," he protested

"So I take it you weren't? Theo was there as well?"

Draco flushed a little. "Yes. But I didn't know that 'til the sex fiend climbed into the shower with me."

Pansy chuckled throatily at this. "I bet that gave you a shock."

"Not as much of a shock as the one I got when I realised he was naked." Draco shuddered from the vivid memory. "It's a good job he's a scrawny thing, or my virtue would have been in serious jeopardy."

Pansy threw back her head and laughed merrily at that. "I don't know what's more funny," she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "The mental image of a naked Theo, or the fact that you still think you have virtue left to defend."

Draco scowled at his friend, but was unable to fight the smile tugging at his lips for long. "It's not funny," he protested weakly.

Pansy gave one of his feet an affectionate squeeze. "It won't be for much longer. Once you've found your mate, your allure won't be as strong."

For once, Draco didn't lose his temper at the reference to his heritage. "If that was meant to comfort me, you failed. Reminding me that I will have to spend the rest of my life bonded to some complete stranger, not of my own choosing, is not exactly a mood booster."

"You never know," Pansy replied. "It might be someone you already know. Considering the size of the wizarding population, there's quite a good chance of that. It's probably someone who goes to Hogwarts."

"Merlin, I hope not. There's no one here that I find remotely appealing"

"Really?" Pansy sounded slightly surprised. "There's no one you like, even the tiniest bit?"

"I already said no." Draco struggled to stamp down his irritation; really, sometimes Pansy asked the most stupid of questions.

"It's just that I thought…never mind."

Draco took one look at the thoughtful expression on his friend's face and decided against asking for further explanation. Sometimes Pansy could be startlingly insightful. Usually when Draco wanted it least.

"I suppose there's always the Weasel," he said, keen to distract her from whatever thoughts she was having.

Pansy grinned. "Oh yes, you two would make a wonderful couple. I can just imagine your parents welcoming the Weasleys into the Manor."

"Hmm, though you'd much rather be welcoming the Weasel into your bed, wouldn't you? Blaise told me about your little conversation earlier."

Pansy shrugged unrepentantly. "Trust me, if you'd heard the things about him that I have, even you'd be tempted to give him a try."

Draco looked repulsed at the mere suggestion. "Merlin's balls, Pansy, are you really that desperate for a shag? He's a bloody Gryffindor."

"And a Lion between the sheets, apparently. According to Lavender Brown, at least." Pansy had a lascivious smile on her face as she spoke.

"How do you know that?" Draco was torn between outright revulsion and curiosity.

"Girls talk," Pansy replied simply.

"Oh," Draco said, before a look of horror crept over his face. "When you say talk, you don't mean that you…"

"Don't worry; I made sure to talk you up when they asked."

Draco relaxed against the back of the sofa with a sigh. "Good." He tilted his head back, eyes falling closed. A split second later his eyes were wide open again and glaring intently at his friend.

"What do you mean 'talked me up'? I'll have you know my skills need no exaggeration."

"Draco, we had sex once. You cried afterwards and then declared yourself gay. It was hardly the most earth shattering experience a girl could have."

Draco huffed petulantly and scowled at his friend. "Bitch."

Pansy smiled sweetly. "Yes, and don't you forget it."

Harry was awake early the next morning. His dreams had been plagued, somewhat disturbingly, by relentless images of Draco Malfoy. Not particularly sexual in content, but he had woken up sticky nonetheless.

It wasn't that his dreams featured another boy that bothered him; many months had passes since Harry had come to terms with his sexuality. But Malfoy? That poisonous ferret? Harry shook his head in disbelief, praying that his Silencing Charm had held. He was nervous enough about Ron finding out he was gay, never mind him finding out that he was lusting over the boy who had plagued their school years.

A quick shower later and Harry was down in the common room, finishing up his Transfiguration homework. A movement on the sofa next to him caused Harry to look up from his work. Ginny Weasley sat, grinning back at him.

"Morning, Harry. You're up early."

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I figured I may as well get a head start on this."

Ginny ruffled his hair. "Hermione would be so proud of you."

Harry scowled. "Well, it's not like I can do it at night. Not now Snape has my evenings sown up with detention for the rest of the week."

Ginny smiled. "Oh yes, I heard about that. Rumour has it that you were trying to feel Malfoy up."

Harry spluttered in outrage at this, but the memories of his recent dreams caused a flush to spread over his cheeks.

"It's okay, Harry," Ginny soothed, patting his shoulder. "Malfoy's hot. I

understand. You might be the Boy Who Lived, but you're only human."

"I was not molesting Malfoy. I can't believe you would even think that. He's got this bracelet with some kind of Charm on it. It's kind of like Imperius; I couldn't help it."

"But I thought you were immune to the Imperius Curse?" Ginny asked innocently.

"I said it was like, not that it was. Hermione's looking into it."

"Oh, Harry. Why is it so hard to just admit you fancy him? I thought you were through this denial faze?" Ginny gazed at him steadily, and took his hand in her own, smaller, freckled one.

"There's nothing going on between me and Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Realising that Harry's famed temper was on the edge of fraying, Ginny decided that further teasing was not wise and she went for a change in subject. "I've been thinking about the Valentine's Ball," she said.

Harry looked a little surprised by this change of direction, but was grateful for it nonetheless. "What about it?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, I was thinking, that as neither of us can go with who we really want, maybe we should go with each other." Ginny sat back and looked at him expectantly.

"Who do you really want to go with?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Ginny huffed. "You know this, Harry. We've had this conversation like a hundred times."

"Zabini," Harry answered. "So you really want to go with that snake, but you'll make do with me, is that it? Thanks, Gin, that's a real compliment." He wound up giving his friend a playful shove.

Ginny giggled. "Considering the fact that I'm a penis short of being your ideal date, I don't see how you can complain."

"You two look cosy."

Harry spun round quickly and felt panic rise in him when he saw Ron standing there. He scrutinised his best friend's face for any sign that he had heard his sister's last comment. The beaming smile on the redhead's face told Harry that he hadn't.

"We're just discussing the dance," Ginny replied, seeing that Harry was struggling for words.

"You're going together? Mum will be pleased to hear that. She was beginning to give up on you two ever getting yourselves together."

Harry flushed and squirmed uncomfortably at this comment. The stifled snort he heard coming from Ginny didn't help. "Just as friends, Ron," he muttered.

"Of course," Ron replied, though his tone clearly indicated he didn't believe it.

"Have you got a date yet?" Ginny asked, a sly edge to her voice. "I'm sure I know of one girl who'd go with you."

Ron perched on the arm of the sofa, his expression betraying his interest. "Who?"

Ginny grinned. "Pansy Parkinson. I hear she's quite keen on you."

Ron looked startled. "Who told you that?"

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it," Ginny replied smugly.

"You've just made that up," Ron snapped, the flush on his face indicating his annoyance.

"I don't know, mate. She seemed quite taken with you in potions yesterday."

Ron gave his best friend a look of betrayal. "You're only saying that cos then you'll be able to take Malfoy," he shot back in return.

It was Harry's turn to flush now. But before he could come up with a worthy comeback, Hermione had joined the group, and began herding them downstairs for breakfast.

The brief mention of food was all it took to wipe all thoughts of the conversation from Ron's mind. He sped towards the Great Hall, leaving his amused friends behind in his wake.

By the time lessons that day were over, Harry was convinced that there was some form of dark conspiracy at work. Not only had he been partnered with Malfoy in Potions, (not that that was anything new) but also in Transfiguration and Charms, too.

The final betrayal of the day had come in Defence, when Remus, of all people, had paired him up with Malfoy for duelling practice. A quick look at the Slytherin boy's mutinous expression had told Harry he was not alone in his thoughts. And the whispers from the seats behind him, told Harry that more and more people were noticing the pattern.

What was even worse than the enforced pairing, was the fact that Harry had been forced to grudgingly reassess some of his long-held preconceptions of his rival.

Malfoy was smart. And not just like your run of the mill Ravenclaw bookworm, but Hermione smart. It seemed that the Slytherin boy's marks had not, as Harry had previously suspected, been the result of his father's connections and backhanders, but had actually been earned the hard way.

As Harry headed down towards the dungeons for his detention with Snape, he struggled not to think of the other things he had noticed that day. Like how Malfoy's hair shone when the light bounced off it in a certain direction, or how, when not full of malice, those grey eyes seemed to gleam almost silver. And his skin…

Harry tried his hardest not to remember the overwhelming urge he had felt to trail his tongue up the milky-white skin of Malfoy's throat.

Bad thoughts, Harry, he admonished mentally, as he drew nearer to the Potions classroom, almost relieved to reach his destination without further encounters of the Malfoy kind. At least a few hours on the receiving end of Snape's tongue should clear his head, he decided.

With that thought in mind, Harry was certainly not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he pushed open the door to the Potions classroom.

The first thing he spotted was Draco Malfoy. But before his brain had time to process his irritation upon seeing his rival yet again, Harry noticed something else.

Malfoy's usually pale skin was flushed, and his hair was slightly ruffled. Those silvery eyes, that he had admired so intently earlier, now locked onto Harry, and held something of a note of panic in them.

"Potter." Harry never thought he would hear Malfoy sound relived to see him. "You have to help me."

"Come now, Draco. There's no need to involve Mr Potter in our little…misunderstanding."

The decidedly unfamiliar seductive tones of his professor woke Harry up to certain other facts as well. Like how Malfoy's trembling wand arm was extended in the direction of their Potions master, or how Snape was currently making his way towards them with a distinctly predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Your detention is cancelled, Potter. You may leave us." Snape's eyes never once wavered from Malfoy as he spoke.

Harry slid his hand into his pocket, taking hold of his wand, just in case. "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea, sir. Maybe I should just take Malfoy with me."

"That won't be necessary," Snape purred, edging ever-closer still. "Draco will be staying with me. We have some…unfinished business to attend to." Harry had never felt as repulsed as he did at that moment when Snape licked his lips in what he clearly thought was a seductive fashion.

The look of panic on Malfoy's face at this called every one of Harry's protective instincts to the fore. Firmly inserting himself between hunter and prey, he carefully levelled his own wand on the professor.

While Harry suspected that he should have been feeling terrified of the fact he was threatening Snape, of all people, he found it very difficult to concentrate on anything other than the sensation of Malfoy's hands as they slithered round his waist.

"Leave Potter, Draco," Snape commanded, his voice deep and husky.

Malfoy let out no more than a whimper.

"Come here to me," Snape tried again, at his most persuasive. "Come to big daddy and let me take care of you."

Harry was unsure whether to vomit our laugh aloud at hearing such words leave Snape's mouth. However, his thought process was somewhat stunted when Malfoy tightened his grip, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

Harry could hear Malfoy speaking, but was only aware of the other boy's groin pressed snugly against his own bottom. He wanted to listen to what Malfoy was saying, but the sensation of his breath, ghosting over his neck, was causing the blood to leave Harry's brain in a rush, heading for certain other parts of his anatomy.

In the end, Malfoy simply slid his hand over Harry's and altered the trajectory of his wand slightly.

"Accio dampener," he cried, the croak of his voice causing another throb in Harry's groin.

The silver bracelet leapt off Snape's desk and zoomed into Malfoy's outstretched hand. No sooner had he caught it, than Malfoy slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.

Almost instantly, a slightly dazed and confused expression slid over Snape's face. It lasted for mere seconds, before a furious flush took over.

"Out! Now!" he bellowed.

Neither boy needed telling twice, and though he felt bereft as Malfoy pulled away, Harry swiftly followed him to the door.

Once in the corridor, the two boys stood silently staring at each other for a few moments. Neither sure what to say after the encounter.

Harry was only too aware of the pounding of his heart and the thrum of blood coursing through his veins. And over all of this, was a faint, yet insistent voice at the back of his mind, that kept repeating Mine, over and over.

"Thanks for that, Potter," Malfoy said eventually, when the silence became too much.

His cheeks were still pink, and with his hair tumbling messily into his eyes, Harry was painfully aware of just how adorable the other boy looked.

"Don't mention it," he muttered. "Really, don't. Ever. I think seeing Snape like that was more traumatising than facing Voldemort. I mean, big daddy?"

Malfoy snorted with laughter at this, and Harry couldn't help but join in. The empty corridor echoed with the peals of their laughter for several long moments, before a certain awkwardness took hold.

"Right," Harry mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I'd better get going."

"Yeah," Malfoy agreed, though Harry fancied he heard a hint of reluctance in his tone. "Night then."

"Night, Malfoy," Harry offered, before turning to leave the dungeons. He made it several yards before he heard his name called.

"Potter!"

Harry turned round and saw that Malfoy was still stood in the same spot. "Yeah?"

"Um…I just wanted to say thanks again. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn't come in then."

Harry smiled warmly. "Probably best you don't think about that. Not this close to bedtime."

Malfoy nodded. "See you tomorrow then?"

"Yep, tomorrow." Harry had to force himself to turn away, but as he walked out of the dungeons, he could have sworn he felt those eyes watching him.

2

"Big daddy?" Hermione repeated, a stunned expression on her face. "He actually used those words?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Honestly, it was the single most disturbing thing I've ever seen. And when you take into account Basilisks and resurrected Dark Lords, that's saying something."

"Well, this certainly puts your bracelet theory in a whole new perspective," Hermione commented, reaching for her notes.

"But that's the thing," Harry said, reaching out to have a look at the parchment. "He wasn't wearing it. He Summoned it off Snape's desk while I was there."

"Maybe its powers are that strong that you only have to be in the same room as it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, that can't be it. He put it on and Snape went back to normal. And by normal, I mean he was angry and shouting."

Hermione frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Malfoy used the bracelet to repel Snape, but it seems to be attracting everyone else." She scrutinised her notes further. "I'll have to look into this further. Maybe if I ask Professor McGonagall, she'll give me a pass for the Restricted Section."

"Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem." She beamed at her best friend. "You know me and studying."

Harry smiled in acknowledgement. "Talking of which, I'd better make a start of the Defence essay Remus assigned us. Though why we need to know two foot on the History of Duelling is beyond me." Grumbling to himself, Harry delved into his bag and produced the necessary textbook and parchment.

"You're taking Ginny to the ball," Hermione commented after a few moments silence.

Harry looked up from his work in surprise. "Yeah. She asked me this morning."

"Are you two getting back together then?" Hermione did her best to keep her tone casually, but even Harry could sense the undercurrent.

"We're just friends," he replied. "I wasn't that keen on going, but I guess it should be a laugh."

"Oh." It was one small word, but Harry didn't miss the faint look of relief on Hermione's face at his words, nor did he miss the smile that curved her lips as she returned to the books. He tried to ignore the implications of that; he had enough to worry about, without the thought that Hermione might actually like him, like that.

The two of them sat it virtual silence for the next half an hour, until a stifled cry from Hermione shattered the peace.

"I found it!"

Harry smudged ink over his parchment in shock. "Found what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know what's going on with Malfoy."

That grabbed Harry's attention. His homework was pushed instantly to one side. "What?" he demanded.

Hermione smiled smugly and turned the book she was reading round to face Harry. "He's a Veela. Look!" She jabbed the open page with a fingertip.

Harry looked at the open book but was too impatient to actually read it all. "A Veela? But he's not a girl."

Hermione huffed and pulled the book back towards her. "According to this, Veelas can be both sexes. Although male ones are a lot rarer to come across."

"So that's why everyone's throwing themselves at him? Cos of some Veela charm?"

Hermione nodded. "It says here that unmated male Veelas have an extremely powerful allure. That bracelet he's wearing is called a dampener. It's part of a traditional ritual to suppress the Veela's pheromones until he can be…well, until he finds his mate."

"Mate?" Harry repeated. "I take it you don't mean like Ron and me are mates?"

Hermione giggled. "No, not like that at all. Unless there's something you two aren't telling me?"

Harry flushed and shifted in his chair uneasily. He felt a twinge of guilt over lying to his friends about his sexuality. "Don't be silly," he managed to say."

"A Veela's mate isn't a friend, like Ron is to you. It's like…well, kind of like having a girlfriend, only more complicated."

"Complicated how?" Harry asked, not at all liking this talk of Malfoy having a girlfriend.

"Well, they don't just get to choose their partner, as such. When they meet their mate, they just know. And it's for life too, no divorce or anything like that."

Harry looked a little confused and Hermione watched him patiently, waiting for the question that she knew would come eventually.

"So does this mean he's got a beak, and wings? Like those Veela at the World Cup?"

Hermione grinned; that had not been the question she was expecting. "As amusing as that would be, sadly no. At least, not a beak, anyway. There have been reported instances of male Veela having wings, but it's extremely rare."

"But how come this has only just started? I mean, I haven't noticed anyone fawning over Malfoy until recently."

Hermione's face took on its all too familiar lecture mode expression, and Harry began to regret his question instantly.

"Male Veelas come into their heritage on their seventeenth birthday, so Malfoy's only had his 'powers' since June. I would imagine he's been wearing the dampener ever since."

"But why isn't it working now?" Harry persisted.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but I think it has to do with the Veela mating. It's traditional for an adolescent male Veela to claim his mate on 14th February. I'm guessing that the dampener is becoming less effective, the closer the mating gets."

"That's less than two weeks away." Harry suddenly felt his chest clench at the thought of Malfoy mating for life to someone else, in such a short space of time.

Hermione nodded. "Knowing Dumbledore, I imagine he's aware of this, and that's why we're having a Valentine's Ball."

"We're having a dance, just so Malfoy can get laid? Bloody typical." Despite his newfound discoveries about the Slytherin boy, Harry still found it hard to let go of six years of animosity.

"It's more that just having sex," Hermione said, giving him a reproachful look. "It's about the joining of two souls, for all eternity. It's very romantic."

Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione's dreamy expression. "Girls," he muttered, longing for the slightly more testosterone-fuelled atmosphere of his dormitory.

"It's Potter," Draco announced as he flopped onto Pansy's bed.

"It's always been Potter," Pansy commented. "What's happed this time?"

"Nothing's happened. Well, yes, something rather traumatic happened actually, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"What then? What's Potter?"

"He's the one," Draco replied quietly. "He's my mate."

A broad grin spread over Pansy's face. "I knew it! I told…Well, never mind that. How did you find out? What did you do? Tell me everything about it. Did you kiss him?"

"Merlin, Pansy. Take a breath. I can't tell you anything if you keep bombarding me with questions."

"Sorry. Go ahead. I'll be quiet."

Draco gave his friend a look that clearly expressed his disbelief at this statement, but he took up the tale regardless.

It took some time for the full story to come out. Draco was forced to wait several minutes for Pansy to recover from the hysterics she indulged in upon hearing of their Head of House's seduction attempt. But eventually she calmed down long enough for her friend to explain about the moment he realised that his childhood rival, was actually now someone he was tied to for life.

"You're taking this very calmly," Pansy commented finally, still wiping tears from her eyes. "I thought you'd be spitting feathers. No pun intended."

Draco grimaced. "I know. If you'd have suggested to me yesterday that Harry Potter was my mate, I'm fairly sure my reaction would have been heard down in Hogsmeade. I mean, it's Potter."

"So what's changed?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest. But it's like I've truly seen him for the first time. He's so brave and noble; the way he just stood in between me and Snape. After the way I've treated him for years, after my father tried to kill him on numerous occasions, he still helped me. Most people would have just left me there."

Pansy hit her friend lightly with a pillow. "You're turning into a sap," she teased.

Draco ignored the pillow. "And his smell…it's incredible. I can't even begin to describe it." Draco slumped back onto the bed, hands folded behind his head.

"So what are you going to do about it? When are you going to tell him?"

The smile faded from Draco's face. "What's the point? Potter's straight. And even if he wasn't, I hardly think he would jump at the idea of being tied to the Malfoy family for life."

Pansy stroked her hand soothingly over his brow, smoothing out the frown creases. "Potter's not straight."

Draco sat upright instantly. "What? How the hell do you know that? Tell me?"

"Alright, calm down and I will. Let's just say that Ginny Weasley and I could start our very own club."

Draco huffed; he didn't have time for cryptics. "What club?" he snapped.

Pansy grinned. "The I had sex with my boyfriend and turned him gay club. Potter plays for your team, Draco, I promise."

"You're lying," Draco accused. "I know you're only trying to make me feel better, but it's no good."

Pansy looked mildly affronted. "Merlin! You're self-involved. Potter is gay. I'm not saying that to flatter your needy ego. I'm saying it because it's true."

Draco gaped at her. "You're serious?"

Pansy nodded. "Potter loves cock," she confirmed.

Draco began to giggle helplessly at this pronouncement. "That would make a perfect slogan for my next lot of badges!"

"It's certainly a big improvement on 'Potter stinks'," Pansy agreed. "Mind you, are you sure you want to be announcing that? The other poofs around school will go crazy for him once they find out Potter's one of them."

Draco frowned. "Do you think so?"

"Draco, I know you've never looked at him that way before today, but trust me, Potter's hot. If he wasn't gay, I'd be temp…"

Pansy never finished that statement, as she found the sharp edge of Draco's wand digging in the underside of her chin. "Pansy, I love you like a sister, but if you finish that sentence, I will be forced to A.K. you."

Pansy rolled her eyes and placed her hand on Draco's, carefully lowering his wand. "Get a grip," she scolded. "He's only been you're mate for five minutes, and already you're acting like some crazy, jealous Veela."

Draco sank back onto the bed with a deep sigh. "It's pointless anyway. Even if Potter is gay, he still hates me. There's no way he'll agree to bond with me."

"I'm not so sure about that," Pansy said thoughtfully. "I mean, he is a Gryffindor. All noble and rubbish like that. If he knows what refusing the bond will do to you, then I'm sure he'll agree."

Draco groaned and flung an arm over his face. "But that's just it; I don't want him that way. I want him to want me, not just be with me out of pity."

Pansy rubbed a soothing hand over his. "Poor baby, you have got it bad."

It was a sign of how low Draco was feeling that he didn't respond with his usual vitriol to being called baby. Pansy couldn't remember ever seeing him like this before, so vulnerable and needy. "It'll be alright. We'll just have to make sure that Potter does want you, then. It shouldn't be so hard. You are bloody gorgeous, after all."

"There's no time." Draco's voice was almost a whimper.

Pansy sniffed at this objection. "We've got nearly two weeks. That's plenty of time. Come on." She reached out and pulled Draco's arm from over his eyes. "Mooching in here isn't going to help any. We need a plan."

Draco sat up reluctantly, but for the first time that evening, he felt a faint flicker of hope in his chest. They were Slytherins, after all, and scheming was what they did best.

Harry gave up on his studying eventually; it was no good, he couldn't concentrate. His head was full of Veelas and Malfoy, and…well, mostly just Malfoy, truth be told.

If he tried really hard, Harry could still feel the sensation of the other boy's body pressed against him. Those strong arms wrapped around his waist. He hadn't given it much thought at the time, but now that he replayed it in his mind, Harry was certain that there had been a definite hardness pressed against his arse.

He really hoped that that was because of him, because, well, if it wasn't, then Snape had been the only other person in the room. And that just didn't bear thinking about.

As he got ready for bed, Harry couldn't help but think it was just typical of his life. After years spent hiding his sexuality, he had finally found someone he fancied, and not only was it Malfoy, but it was too late anyway. In less than two weeks, Malfoy would be mated to some girl for life, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Determined to put thoughts of all things blond and Slytherin from his mind, Harry was startled to feel the stirrings of an erection. He clambered into bed, spelled the hangings closed, and slid a hand inside his pyjama bottoms.

He settled down to enjoy his current, favourite wank fantasy, which involved the Chudley Canons' Keeper, numerous silk ties, and an obscene amount of whipped cream. However, tonight, Harry's imagination seemed determined to betray him. The Keeper's usually blue eyes seemed to have turned a silvery grey, and his hair lightened to an unearthly shade of blond.

It was seconds before Harry realised that it was actually Malfoy in his fantasy. The blond Slytherin was on his knees sucking him off, and from the look of bliss on his face, Malfoy was more than happy to oblige.

Harry tried hard, really he did. But every time he closed his eyes, his mind was overwhelmed with images of Malfoy - some of them definitely x-rated. So much for not thinking about him anymore, Harry thought mutinously.

Deciding to forgo his nightly wank instead, Harry shifted onto his side and snuggled under the covers. He ignored the persistent throbbing in his groin, and even tried to use some of his Occlumency mind-clearing techniques. But it was all to no avail. His erection was still there, relentlessly demanding his attention.

Harry let out a groan.

"You okay, mate?" Ron called.

"What? Oh, yes, fine." Harry answered, more than a little flustered.

"Just thought you might be having one of your nightmares, or something," Ron pressed.

"Definitely 'or something'," Harry muttered to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing, Ron. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, okay. Night then."

"Night."

Harry slumped back on his bed, this time adding a Silencing Charm for good measure.

It was clear that his erection was going nowhere on its own. So, admitting defeat at last, Harry wriggled out of his pyjama bottoms, took a firm hold of his cock, and allowed his mind free reign with its Malfoy fantasies.

When he finally came, just a short while later, with two fingers up his arse and the name Draco on his lips, Harry knew he was in deep trouble.

"Weasley!"Ginny stopped in her tracks across the Great Hall and turned to find Pansy Parkinson gesturing wildly at her. She made her way back to the entrance and eyed the Slytherin girl warily; the two of them got on alright in private, but it was a friendship that was rarely acknowledged in public.

"We need to talk," Pansy stated shortly.

"Okay, what about?"

Pansy looked around them. "Not here." She grabbed Ginny's arm and tugged her in the direction of the main doors.

Once outside, Ginny pulled her arm free. "I hope this isn't going to take long. It's bloody freezing out here."

Pansy fished out her wand and cast a gentle Warming Charm. "Better?"

"Much." Ginny grinned. "See, I knew you Slytherins had to be good for something."

"Gryffindork," Pansy retaliated.

Ginny just stuck out her tongue.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "When you're quite finished, we have important business to discuss."

"Now I'm intrigued. What's up?"

"I was right about Potter," Pansy began.

"What about Harry?" Ginny interrupted suspiciously.

"If you shut up for a minute, then I can tell you."

Ginny remained silent and Pansy nodded in acknowledgement. "He's Draco's mate."

Ginny let out a squeal of excitement. "Are you sure? How d'you know?"

"Draco told me." Pansy couldn't help but smile at the other girl's excitement.

Ginny's eyes widened at this information. "He knows? Blimey. How's he taking it?"

"Surprisingly well," Pansy admitted. "And halfway to being hopelessly smitten already."

Ginny clasped her hands together. "Oh, that's so cute. Those two will make such an adorable couple."

"Hot, too," Pansy commented casually.

"Hell, yes," Ginny agreed. "The thought of those two together is enough to turn any reasonable girl into a peeping tom." She paused here and grinned lasciviously. "When's he going to tell Harry? Or is that what this is? You want me to talk to him?"

Pansy shook her head. "Draco isn't going to tell him, and nor are we…yet."

"But why in Merlin's name not? I mean, it'll take a bit for Harry to get used to, but I'm sure, once he understands, he'll agree. There's no way he would refuse, not knowing what it would do to Malfoy."

"But that's just it," Pansy replied. "Draco's got this stupid, romantic notion in his head. Says he doesn't want Potter to be with him out of pity or a sense of duty. He wants Potter to want him too."

"But Harry will want him, if he's his mate. Surely Malfoy knows that?"

Pansy just shrugged. "You've met Draco, Weasley. Does he strike you as the kind of person who can be reasoned with?"

Laughing, Ginny shook her head. "Now that you mention it, not really. So what are we going to do? Harry is far too clueless to figure it all out by himself."

"We just need to get them to spend as much time together as possible. Draco's already starting to see past the 'Golden Boy' image of Potter. Now we just need to get Potter to see that Draco's not quite the bastard he pretends to be."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at this last statement. "He's not," Pansy insisted. "But you try growing up with Lucius Malfoy for a father; it doesn't exactly encourage emotional growth."

Ginny nodded. "I guess. So how are we going to do this?"

"Well, we don't have an awful lot of time to be subtle or come up with devious plans. So we'll just have to arrange for them to have lots of 'accidental' meetings. Oh, and keep Granger away as much as possible; I swear that girl's got a thing for Potter."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "You might be right. She was a bit off with me when Harry and I were going out. What about Ron? Do I need to keep him away?"

Pansy tried her best to look nonchalant, but even Ginny spotted the slight flush on her cheeks. "You can bring him along, I suppose. It'll make it look more natural."

Ginny couldn't help the sly grin that crossed her face. "And this has nothing to do with the fact you want in my brother's trousers?"

Pansy flushed even more, but raised her chin defiantly. "So you won't be wanting me to bring Blaise along then?"

"W-what? Why would I care if Zabini's there or not?"

"Come on, Weasley, I'm not blind. I've seen you making sheep's eyes at him across the Great Hall."

"Okay, fine," Ginny huffed, knowing she was caught out. "You bring Zabini and Malfoy, and I'll bring Harry and Ron. Where are we going to do this? I mean, we don't want to be too obvious."

"We're dealing with boys," Pansy replied. "Obvious is not an issue."

Ginny chuckled. "You're right. If your two are anything like mine, then the word should be oblivious."

Whispering conspiratorially, the two girls made their way back into the Great Hall and headed to their respective tables. As Ginny sank into a vacant seat at the Gryffindor table, she felt the weight of an intense gaze on her. Looking up, she found Hermione's eyes boring into her.

"What was that all about?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What was what all about?" Ginny asked, playing dumb in an attempt to buy herself some time.

"Come on, Gin, Pansy Parkinson just calls you over and then drags you out of the Great Hall, and you act like its nothing? What's going on? She's not bullying you, is she?"

Ginny shook her head emphatically. "No! It's nothing like that. We actually get on quite well." Seeing Hermione's face still full of suspicion, Ginny decided to share a little information just to get the Head Girl off her back.

"We were talking boys, if you must know. Pansy found out that I fancy a Slytherin, and she was just giving me some advice."

"It's not Malfoy, is it? Because, if it is, you should know-"

"No, it's not Malfoy," Ginny interrupted quickly; it was never wise to let Hermione get into her stride.

"Oh, well that's okay then. I'm glad to see you're moving on from Harry."

I bet you are, Ginny thought viciously to herself, but she managed to keep a sweet smile on her face. "I can't wait around for him forever," she said.

Hermione reached out and placed a hand on her arm. "You've been so brave about it. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

Ginny smiled, but inwardly wanted to vomit. She knew Hermione meant well, but sometimes she could be so patronising.

Over at the Slytherin table, Pansy was encountering much the same level of interrogation from Draco. She had barely got herself seated before the questions began.

"Where've you been, Pans?"

"Oh, just chatting. You know, catching up on the gossip," she replied airily.

"With the Weaselette? Since when were you two gossip pals?"

"It pays to have sources in every house, Dray. Besides, Weasley's not your typical Gryffindor. I can definitely see a bit of Slytherin in her."

Draco snorted. "From what I hear, she'd like to have more than a bit of Slytherin in her."

Pansy sniggered. "Don't be so bitchy. The girl's got good taste."

"Hmm, better than you, I'll give her that. Considering your current choice of paramour."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Paramour? You talk like one of those trashy romance novels that Daphne's always reading. And in any case, the Weasel and I aren't sleeping together."

"Yet," Draco amended, silently praying that Pansy never discovered where it was Daphne got those romance novels from.

"Don't knock it. If I get my claws into him, it will be much easier to get Potter-"

"Blaise! Take your hand off my leg now!" Draco's angry shout cut through Pansy's words.

He turned an angry expression on his friend, only to have the dark-haired boy lean closer and actually nuzzle the side of his neck.

"Come on, Draco," Blaise purred. "I'm just being friendly. We are friends, aren't we?" A sulky pout marred his pretty features.

Draco looked pleadingly at Pansy, who just giggled helplessly. "Bitch," he snapped, before turning his attention back to the boy who was now trying to straddle his lap.

"Blaise, I swear if you don't get off me right now! For Merlin's sake, you're not even gay."

"Shh, Dray," Blaise murmured as he rocked against his friend. "Don't fight it."

Despite the tears of laughter running down her face, Pansy did note the look of absolute panic on Draco's face. She gave Crabbe and Goyle a quick nod, indicating they should intervene. As the two hulking Slytherins removed a protesting Blaise, Pansy looked over at the Gryffindor table.

She couldn't help but notice the intense way that Harry Potter was staring at Blaise, almost as if he were about to hex him. Grinning to herself, she looked further down the table to where Ginny Weasley sat, grinning in return. Nodding in Potter's direction, Pansy gave the Gryffindor girl a quick wink, before turning back to placate a near-hysterical Draco.

Both Harry and Draco headed towards the Potions classroom with a sickening sense of dread in the pit of their stomachs. For both boys, it would be the first time they had seen Professor Snape since the psychologically scarring incident the previous night.

Despite knowing it was not his godfather's fault, Draco still couldn't forget the lust-crazed expression on his face. The whole incident, apart from Potter, had been quite traumatic. He had skulked around the dungeons all morning, desperately trying to avoid contact with his Head of House, but with Potions looming, there was no escape.

Harry dragged himself into the classroom and assumed his now usual seat beside Malfoy. He was absolutely dreading facing Snape. The man was bound to still be angry from the night before. All the more so because Harry had seen his moment of madness.

Despite the fact that it had not been his fault, Harry knew that the Potions master would find way to blame him for it, and that he could expect numerous points to be deducted, and repeated snide remarks to be made.

Still, he consoled himself, if Snape was too much of a bastard to him, he had the perfect way to get his revenge. So far, he had told no one but Hermione about the incident, but should Snape push him too far, well, he might accidentally let something slip.

Harry looked up as Malfoy sank into the seat next to him. He noted that the Slytherin boy wore a similar look of apprehension on his face.

"Malfoy," he acknowledged.

"Potter," Malfoy replied, giving a slight nod of his head. "You realise he's going to be unbearable today, right?"

Harry followed his gaze in the direction of Snape's office. "I figured as much." He gave a slight snicker. "It was funny though."

Malfoy glared ever so slightly. "I'm glad threats to my virtue amuse you, Potter."

Harry's laughter stopped instantly. "Shit! Sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean it like that."

Harry found it a little hard to look the other boy in the eyes after his fantasies of the night before. His eyes came to rest on Malfoy's pink lips, which was even worse, considering the lewd things he had imagined them doing.

"Are you okay, Potter? Only, you seem to be staring at my mouth."

Flustered and flushing, Harry searched desperately for something to say in reply. Any possible words fled from his brain the instant he saw the wet tip of Malfoy's tongue flicker out to moisten his lips.

"Uhh…"

"How eloquent."

Harry was saved from having to make any further unintelligible noises by the opening of the office door. He was almost grateful for Professor Snape's arrival.

When he saw that it was Remus who had entered the room, Harry could have dropped to his knees and thanked the Gods.

"Good morning class. Professor Snape has been called away unexpectedly." Harry could have sworn he saw Remus' eyes linger on him and Malfoy with a slight twinkle in them.

"The Headmaster has asked that I oversee your Potions class until he returns."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Malfoy whispered, and, for once, Harry was in complete agreement.

No Snape, meant no detention. A fact that made Harry inexplicably happy. The thought of being trapped in the dungeons with a wrathful Snape, was not his idea of a pleasant way to spend an evening.

Hermione had suggested he join her in the library, which he had declined politely. Then Ginny had come along, and she too had been most insistent upon him joining her for an evening's study. Harry had never thought of Ginny as particularly studious, but obviously he had been wrong. She had been quite vehement about his neglect of his schoolwork, and had only given in after a long and heated debate.

He had every intention of getting his schoolwork done, he just didn't feel much like company. Which was why he was lying sprawled across his bed, with numerous text books scattered around him.

It seemed that before his expedient departure, Professor Snape had left some detailed notes on exactly what assignments his students should be doing. Harry was convinced that the evil git had had him particularly in mind when he had assigned them three feet on the various healing properties of moonstone.

Just thinking about the amount of work involved in it gave Harry a headache. Which was why, after half an hour, he had little more than the title written down.

A welcome distraction from his procrastinating came in the form of a knock on the bedroom door.

"Yeah?" Harry called, slightly curious as to who it was; most of his friends would just walk in.

The door opened part way and a nervous-looking Dennis Creevey popped his head in. "Sorry to bother you, Harry."

The younger boy sounded very nervous and Harry took pity on him. "That's okay," he replied, pulling himself up into a seating position. "You can come in, you know? I won't bite."

Dennis giggled nervously, but nonetheless inserted the rest of his body into the room.

"There," Harry said. "I knew there was a body attached to that head. So what can I do for you?"

"There's someone at the door downstairs who wants to see you," Dennis explained.

This caught Harry's attention; Merlin, he hoped it wasn't Snape returned especially for his detention. "Who is it?" he demanded, a little sharply.

"It's Draco Malfoy," Dennis whispered, his eyes wide at the horror of a Slytherin being in Gryffindor tower. Seamus is keeping him busy while I came for you."

"Seamus?" That was all it took to spur Harry into action. Sharing a room with the Irish boy for over six years had given Harry too much insight as to what 'keeping him busy' might entail. He was off the bed and heading down the stairs without further word. Dennis just watched him go in wide-eyed surprise.

The common room was quite full, but unusually quiet. All eyes turned to Harry as he thundered down the stairs, his eyes scanning the room.

"Where's Malfoy?" he asked gruffly, directing his question at Dean.

Dean nodded in the direction of the Portrait hole. "He's out there. We didn't think

it was a good idea to let him in. Seamus is keeping an eye on him."

"I bet," Harry muttered darkly, heading over to the doorway.

He wrenched the Portrait hole forcefully, and stepped outside like a man on a mission. He was just in time to see Malfoy slam Seamus up against the nearest wall.

"When I tell you to keep your filthy hands to yourself," Malfoy snarled. "That isn't code for feel me up some more."

"C'mon, Malfoy," Seamus wheedled. "I know you like boys, too. Just one little kiss, that's all I'm asking for."

Harry couldn't help thinking that Seamus was either incredibly brave, or just extremely stupid, given the look of outrage on Malfoy's face. As curious as he was to learn just which Hex the Slytherin was about to use, Harry felt a certain loyalty to protect his roommate from a painful death.

"Seamus, maybe you should just leave Malfoy alone, yeah? He's obviously not interested."

"Of course he is," Seamus replied, never taking his eyes of the Malfoy's face. "He just likes playing hard to get. Don't you, baby?" Seamus made the fatal mistake of reaching and stroking the side of Malfoy's face.

"That's it," the Slytherin boy yelled. He grabbed hold of Seamus' arm and spun him round, until he had him pinned, face first against the wall.

Seamus wriggled suggestively against the body behind him. "I'd always figured you for a bottom," he teased. "But I don't mind if you want to top."

"Fuck, Finnegan! Have you got a death wish or something?"

When Harry managed to tear his eyes away from admiring Malfoy's flushed face, he realised he had better intervene. Stepping closer, he placed, what he hoped was a calming hand on the Slytherin boy's shoulder, whilst shaking his wand into the other.

"Let him go," he murmured, his lips so close to Malfoy's ear that Harry had to fight the urge to nibble on his lobe.

Malfoy spun round to face him. "Are you crazy? I let him go and it'll be me pinned up against this wall next."

"I won't let him, I promise. Just let him go, and he'll behave, won't you Shay?"

"You just want him for yourself, Harry, you dog!" Seamus teased. "I saw him first, sorry."

Harry raised his wand and levelled it in the direction of his roommate. "He's not interested, mate. Now just go back inside the common room, and no one will get hurt."

Seamus' eyes widened at the sight of Harry's wand and the calm expression on his face; in that moment he understood how his friend had defeated Voldemort. "Fuck, Harry! If you want him that bad, have him." He pushed back off the wall, catching Malfoy by surprise.

Harry stepped forward to steady the stumbling Slytherin and by the time he looked up again, Seamus was already disappearing back through the Portrait hole. He stood for what seemed like ages, just staring into pools of silver, enjoying the feel of the other boy's body under his palms.

"Thanks for that," Malfoy said, a little breathlessly.

"'S okay," Harry replied, noting that the other boy made no move to pull away.

Realising he was in very real danger of showing Malfoy just how much he was enjoying his company, Harry stepped back slightly, his arms returning to his sides. "You wanted to see me?"

"What? Oh, yes." Malfoy smiled warmly. "Your knight in shining armour routine threw me off for a moment."

Harry couldn't help but blush at the implied compliment. "So, what's up?" he prompted, when it seemed the Malfoy wasn't going to elaborate further.

"I just wondered if you wanted to work on that essay Professor Snape set for us? Together, I mean."

Harry looked and was surprised to see a look of uncertainty on the usually confident face of the other boy. There was something rather cute about the flush on his pale cheeks, and the way he fiddled with the cuffs of his robes.

Harry grinned. "Sure. I could use the help. You want to do it now? The essay, I mean."

Draco nodded. "Well, I figured you wouldn't have detention tonight, so…"

"Okay. Let me just grab my things." Harry turned to go back into the tower,

when he felt a hand grab onto his sleeve.

"We can use my books," Malfoy said nervously.

Harry was about to protest that it would only take a moment, when he realised that the other boy was probably a little bit afraid of being left on his own again. Especially considering the molesting that had already taken place. Not that he would ever admit it, and Harry did not intend to force the issue.

"Okay then. Let's go."

The two boys walked towards the library in virtual silence. Unbeknownst to each other, they were both privately relishing the chance to be this close to the object of their affections.

Draco made sure to walk as close as he could to Potter without drawing undue attention. Not that the other boy seemed to mind when their shoulders bumped accidentally. And Draco was convinced that the brush of their hands against each other was not as accidental as it seemed.

It took every ounce of his self-control not to fling his mate up against the nearest wall and debauch him in a way that only a Slytherin, no, only a Malfoy could.

The urge to see those pretty green eyes glazed over with lust was almost unbearable. Potter already had that just-shagged look going on with his hair, Draco mused silently. Now he just needed to work on the rest of him.

"That's becoming a bit of a habit with you now," Draco said finally, once he was sure that something other than mine would come out of his mouth.

"What?" Harry enquired. "Rescuing you?"

Seeing Draco's nod, the Gryffindor boy grinned broadly. "Well, you do make an irresistible damsel in distress," he teased.

Draco blinked in surprise, and then did it again. Was Potter actually flirting with him? It certainly seemed that way. For a brief moment Draco actually wished he were alone, so he could do his happy dance; he wasn't ready for Potter to see

that yet.

"Haven't you wondered what's causing it?" Draco asked, as casually as he could. "Why people suddenly seem to find me irresistible?"

"I guess," Harry answered, with a shrug.

"So how come you haven't asked about it?" Draco was genuinely curious. He knew that if the situation were reversed, he would be breaking his neck to find out what was going on."

"I won't say I'm not curious," Harry admitted. "But it's your secret, isn't it. You'll tell me when you're ready. If you're ready."

Draco looked at his companion, and was faced with an expression so earnest, so open, that he could almost have cried.

"Thank you." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"It's okay. 'S what friends are for."

"Are we friends then?" Draco asked a little surprised by this pronouncement, and unable to keep the hope from his voice.

Harry grinned at him and bumped their shoulders again. "I think we'd better be. You need to keep me around to defend your honour."

Draco sank into silence, his mind working furiously to process this new development. Never, not even in his wildest dreams did he ever think Harry Potter would actually want to be his friend. He was seconds away from doing his happy dance, regardless of who was watching.

"If we are friends," he said eventually, "would you do me a favour?"

He looked at Potter and saw the answering nod. "Sure."

"Would you…would you call me Draco? It's just, Malfoy reminds me too much of my father."

"Okay, Draco." Harry smiled warmly and Draco's insides felt all fuzzy.

Merlin, that sounded good, he mused. This was definite progress. "Thanks, Harry," he replied, almost shyly. Relishing the way that those few short syllables felt on his tongue.

"You looked like you had fun last night, Harry."

Harry looked up from his breakfast into the smiling face of Ginny Weasley. "Huh?" he mumbled, through a mouthful of bacon.

"In the library," Ginny prompted. "You and Malfoy."

"Oh, yeah. It was okay, I guess."

"I though you said you weren't in the mood for the library?" Hermione interjected, a faint hurt note to her voice.

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I wasn't. But Draco offered to help me with that Potions essay, and I didn't want to turn down the offer, what with him being a bit of a Potions genius."

"I could have helped you with that," Hermione answered, looking very put out now.

Ginny rolled her eyes at this, and then latched on to something that had caught her attention. "Did you just call him Draco?"

Harry flushed a little and shot a nervous glance in Ron's direction; thankfully, so far, the redhead was too engrossed in his food. "Yes, I did," he answered, his tone daring anyone to criticise.

Ginny simply beamed. "Well I think it's great. It's about time you got past that childish rivalry."

"You're friends with Malfoy?" Hermione asked sharply, putting Harry's back up instantly.

"Yes, I am. He's changed a lot." Harry stuck out his chin in a defiant gesture. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione. You were telling me off for thinking he was evil the other day. Now you're looking at me like I just announced I was best friends with Voldemort."

Hermione sighed. "I just think you should be careful, that's all. I mean, how much do you really know about Malfoy."

"Not that much," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Hermione shot him a look that said 'exactly'. "But I intend to change that," he snapped, irritated by his friend's behaviour.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Harry. You know Lucius Malfoy is appealing his conviction, maybe Malfoy thinks that by being your friend, you'll help his dad get off. The timing is a little convenient."

"So what you're saying is that he's just using me? That Draco couldn't possibly genuinely want to be friends with someone like me?"

"No," Hermione cried. "I didn't mean it like that. I just-"

"Well, it certainly sounded that way to me," Harry said icily. He got up from his seat. "If you'll excuse me."

Harry pushed away from the table, his breakfast tasting like ashes in his mouth. He had expected that kind of reaction from Ron, but Hermione, she was usually the sensible one, the voice of reason in their trio. He had actually thought she would be proud of him for being grown up enough to see past six years of rivalry and make friends with Draco.

"Hold up, Harry!"

He turned round and saw Ginny hurrying after him. Despite his mood, he couldn't help but smile. Ginny really was a godsend to him. She knew virtually everything there was to know about him, and she didn't judge. She just trusted him enough to make his own decisions. At least he had one friend who thought he was capable of knowing his own mind.

Ginny pulled up level with Harry and slipped her hand under his arm. "Pay no attention to her," she advised.

"I don't know what's wrong with her lately. She's acting really weird." Harry had a puzzled expression on his face.

Ginny grinned slyly. "I'm starting to think she might be jealous."

"Of what?" Now Harry was confused.

"Of Malfoy," Ginny explained, as if it were obvious.

"But I don't see why Hermione would be jealous of Draco. What's he got that she wants?"

"You," Ginny replied with a giggle, and then scampered off down the corridor before Harry realised what she had said.

Draco was having the best day so far. First off, he had woken up that morning from the nicest dream ever about Harry. And for nicest, read smuttiest.

Then, he had bumped into Harry on his way down to breakfast. Draco didn't think he would ever get tired of hearing his name on the other boy's lips. And as if that wasn't good enough, Harry had smiled at him. That heart-stopping, gut-wrenching smile that caused a tingle to shoot through Draco's body, right from head to toe.

And to top it all off, he had had gained top marks in his recent Arithmancy assignment; Professor Vector had said the most complimentary things about this work, and Granger's nose had been well and truly pushed out of joint.

He was so caught up in musing just how wonderful life actually was, that Draco never noticed Hermione Granger heading towards him, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Malfoy," she called, and Draco paused on his way out of the classroom.

"Granger," he replied coolly. "Wanting some extra tutoring, are you?"

A hard, cold expression filled Hermione's eyes for just a moment, and Draco knew he had scored a direct hit. She was such a bookworm, that any slur on her brainpower would sting like hell.

"You got lucky, Malfoy, that's all. And anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Draco leant back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. "Oh, really. Enlighten me, do. I'm intrigued."

Hermione appeared a little flustered by his cool demeanour and Draco smirked inwardly.

"I want to know what you're doing with Harry," she burst out at last.

"Doing?" Draco repeated. "I'm not doing anything with him."

"I saw you in the library with him last night. Laughing and joking like you were friends. What are you playing at?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Merlin, Granger, I always figured you for the bright one. Harry and I are friends. Didn't he tell you?"

She folded her arms defensively over her chest and scowled at him. "Of course he told me. Harry tells me everything."

"Then I'm a little confused as to what this conversation is about." Draco regarded her with a puzzled expression.

"I know what Harry thinks is happening between you, but he can be very naïve at times, and far too trusting."

"Very interesting." Draco didn't even try to conceal a yawn. "If that's all?" He pushed off the wall and made as if to leave, only to find a hand on his chest. He looked at the hand in surprise, and then glared coolly at its owner. "You're touching me."

Hermione flushed and quickly removed her hand. "I know what you are, Malfoy," she spat.

"Oh really, and what is that exactly?" Draco's voice was icy cold and dangerous.

Hermione flinched slightly from the tone, but would not back down. "All those years, all the times you insulted me, made out you were better than me because of my blood."

Draco raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going.

"And all the time your blood's dirtier than mine. I might be a mudblood, Malfoy, but at least I'm human."

Draco recoiled slightly from the venom in the Head Girl's tone. "So you figured it out? What do you want, an Order of Merlin? And what's this got to do with Harry, anyway."

"You just stay away from Harry," she snapped. "I know what you're doing, and it won't work. Harry's not gay, and even if he was, he wouldn't want someone like you. So you'll just have to find some other way to get your father off." Hermione stepped back, a smug expression on her face.

Draco couldn't help it; he let out a snarl at this. He was so angry at hearing his deepest fear put into words. He advanced closer to Hermione, who backed nervously away from him.

"I didn't just make out I was better than you, Granger. I am better than you. I may have Veela blood in my veins, but they are rare, magical creatures. You, on the other hand, have nothing but filthy mud blood running through yours."

Hermione didn't say anything in reply; she just looked over Draco's shoulder and smirked slightly. Just as Draco turned to see what she was looking at, a rather large fist crashed into his face.

As he was recovering from the excruciating pain that had exploded across his face, Draco found himself being grabbed and slammed up against the wall. He opened his eyes to find himself looking into the outraged face of Ron Weasley.

"I warned you, Ferret. I told you what would happen if I ever heard you call her that again."

Draco wasn't looking at Ron anymore. His eyes were fixed on Harry, who was standing just behind his best friend, looking at Draco with a sad, confused expression on his face. Draco tried to speak, but the combination of the chokehold he was in, and the blood now trickling down the back of his throat, made his words come out as little more than a gurgle.

"Not so cocky now, are you," Ron taunted. "I think you should apologise to Hermione."

'Fuck you, Weasel', Draco thought, but the words came out as little more than an indistinct burble.

"I can't hear you, Malfoy," Ron cursed, as he leant in closer. "What are you…?"

Draco tensed up as he felt the Weasel's breath on the side of his neck. Then, he heard it. It was unmistakeable. The Weasel had buried his nose in Draco's hair and sniffed. Too horrified for words, Draco placed his hands on the other boy's shoulders and shoved.

However, he was no match for the well-built redhead, who pinned him easily to the wall. "You're so hot when you struggle," Ron whispered in his ear.

Just as Draco believed that things couldn't get any worse, he felt a wet heat trail up the side of his neck. The Weasel was licking him! Draco began struggling for all he was worth and eventually managed to get a well-placed knee between the redhead's legs.

Ron let out a howl of pain, let go of Draco, and bent double. "You kneed me, you bastard," he gasped.

Draco looked up from where he'd slumped to the floor. "You licked me!" he yelled in outrage, his voice still slightly croaky. "I'm going to have to burn off several layers of skin now."

He staggered to his feet, with as much dignity as he could muster. "I've probably got Weasley cooties now."

Before Draco could walk away, he felt a strong arm slide round his waist. "Come on," Harry murmured. "I think we need to get Madam Pomfrey to take a look at your nose."

Draco reached up to his bloody nose in surprise; he had forgotten all about that with the trauma of Weasley's molestation. He leaned on Harry, grateful for the support, and slowly began making his way towards the hospital wing.

"You didn't save me this time," Draco whined.

Harry tightened his grip around Draco's waist. "You didn't deserve it," he scolded. "Why did you say that to Hermione? I spent all breakfast telling them how you'd changed, and then you go right back to how you used to be."

Draco was more than a little outraged at the unfairness of this accusation. "She started it."

"Draco."

"No, honestly, she did. She said…" Draco paused here, uncertain of how to defend himself to Harry without sharing his Veela heritage. But then he realised he might as well, because if Harry really believed he hadn't changed, then he would never give him another chance anyway.

"She basically said I was an animal because I have Veela blood, and that I was just pretending to be your friend. Then she said that I should stay away from you because you would never want to be with someone like me."

Harry came to a stop, and Draco looked at him warily, wondering if he had gone too far.

"I'll speak to her," Harry said finally. "She shouldn't have said that."

"You don't mind?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"What, that you're part Veela? No, of course not. I sort of already knew," he admitted sheepishly.

Harry dug in his pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief. He reached out and tenderly wiped some of the blood off Draco's face. "And just for the record, she's wrong."

Draco looked at Harry in confusion. "About what?" he asked, trying not to wince from the pain now throbbing through his face.

"About me not wanting to be with someone like you." Harry leant forward and placed a very quick kiss on Draco's forehead. "Come on; let's go get you healed up." 

3

The next few days were better than any Draco could ever remember experiencing before.

True to his word, Harry had spoken to Granger. Whatever he had said certainly did the trick, because Draco found himself on the receiving end of a very begrudging apology.

The Weasel had been keeping an extremely low profile. Harry had confided he was still mortified over the whole licking incident.

There was a level of closeness building between him and Harry that Draco had never really had before, not even with Pansy. As Slytherins, there was always a certain amount held back; revealing yourself emotionally was like laying bare all your weaknesses.

With Harry though, it was completely different. Not that they spent vast amounts of time discussing their feelings, but there were looks, and brief touches, and even the odd little comment, all of which taught Draco to hope as he had never hoped before.

Harry knew he was a Veela but he hadn't been repulsed or turned his back on him. In fact, the only reference Harry had made to it, since the revelation of his heritage, was to comment how lucky his mate would be to have him.

Draco's instincts had cried out for him to confess at that point, but he had clamped down on them. Draco might have changed from the arrogant boy he had once been, but he still had his pride. He didn't want Harry's pity. He just wanted Harry.

When she took time away from her rather relentless pursuit of Ron Weasley, Pansy nagged at Draco constantly. She was convinced that Harry was already halfway to being in love with him, and that he needed to take a risk and tell him the truth.

Intellectually, Draco knew she was right. At some point, Harry would have to be told. Unless Draco planned to die young, alone, and insane. But there was an insistent nagging doubt in the pit of his stomach that left him feeling queasy every time he contemplated it.

The constant demands of being round Harry, fighting his attraction to him, and the urge to confess all, began taking its toll on Draco. He wasn't sleeping as well at night, and was left with faint shadows under his eyes. It was nothing too alarming, but for someone used to physical perfection, Draco was horrified.

He was somewhat grateful, then, when the weekend came round and he was able to escape from the confines of Hogwarts for Hogsmeade.

"Come on, you two! The day will be over before we even get started." Ginny banged furiously on the boys' dormitory door as she spoke.

"Hang on, Gin," Ron grumbled. "We'll be out in a second."

"You've got two minutes," she retorted. "If you're not out by them, I'm coming in. And I don't care if you're dressed or not."

"Good grief," Ron muttered. "She's worse than mum."

Harry grinned at his friend, before tugging a thick jumper over his head. "C'mon, mate. We'd better get a move on. She won't give us any peace 'til we're done."

Ron muttered unintelligibly to himself as he laced up his boots.

"Could be worse," Harry said. "At least it's not Hermione we're keeping waiting."

Ron shivered a little. "That's true. Why isn't she coming with us again?"

"Dumbledore asked her and Anthony to help supervise the first years. The perks of being Head Girl, I s'pose."

"Rather her than me," Ron replied, tugging on his cloak. "Come on then. Better not keep her waiting any longer."

Harry grabbed his own cloak and gloves, and followed his friend out of the dormitory and down into the common room, where a very impatient Ginny Weasley was waiting for them.

"At last." She huffed. "You two take longer that Lavender and Parvati do."

With a little more good-natured teasing, the three friends made their way down into Hogsmeade. They had all wrapped up warmly as it was cold out, and there was the definite prospect of snow in the air.

Despite enjoying himself with the two Weasley siblings, Harry couldn't help feel like something was missing. He did wonder if maybe Hermione's absence bothered him more than he realised, but then he caught a glimpse of a familiar white-blond head in the distance, and he knew. He missed Draco.

It was so pathetic that Harry could have laughed at himself. It had only been a matter of hours since he had spoken to him last, but nonetheless, there was a persistent ache in the vicinity of his heart every time he thought of Draco.

Over the last few days, Harry had tried his hardest to come to terms with his feelings for his onetime rival. He was perfectly comfortable with the knowledge that he found another boy attractive, and was even okay with it being Draco. But the problem was Draco's heritage.

Harry wasn't stupid, he'd had crushes before, and he knew that what he had come to feel for Draco was far more intense than anything he had ever experienced. He wasn't in love yet, but Harry knew he was in very real danger of falling.

It was pointless, he knew. In a week's time, Draco would find his mate, and the two of them would live happily ever after. Leaving Harry to pick up the shattered pieces of his heart. But no matter how many times he tried to remind himself of this, of how much it would hurt, Harry just couldn't help himself.

"Earth to Harry!"

"Huh?" Harry pulled himself from his daydreams to find Ginny waving a hand in front of his face.

"Wake up, mate," Ron added. "We've been trying to get your attention for ages."

"Something on your mind?" Ginny teased. "Or someone?"

Harry flushed and shook his head. "I was just thinking," he muttered defensively. "Why have we stopped?" He looked round and noticed that they had drawn to a halt in the middle of the street.

"We thought we'd go in the Three Broomsticks for a warm," Ginny replied.

"And a drink," Ron added, grinning cheekily. "Firewhisky should do the trick."

Nodding his agreement to this plan, Harry followed his friends inside the pub, revelling in the pleasant warmth that spread through him instantly.

"That's much better," Ginny commented as she began stripping off her scarf and gloves. She scanned the busy room briefly. "Looks like everyone else had the same idea. You two go get the drinks, and I'll go grab us a table before they're all gone." With that, she disappeared into the bustle of the room.

Ron shrugged and grimaced at his friend. "I guess that means I'm stuck paying for hers too. Crafty cow."

Harry turned to the bar and reached into his pocket. "I'll get these." Then, seeing his friend about to argue, he added, "You can get the next ones, if it makes you feel better."

Satisfied with this arrangement, Ron nodded his agreement and then turned to place his order with Madam Rosemerta.

Harry had only intended to have a butterbeer, but after some cajoling from Ron, he found himself in possession of a large Firewhisky also.

"Your mum would have a fit if she saw this," he commented.

"Well she's not here, is she? What she doesn't know…Now, where's Ginny? Can you see her?"

After a few moments spent scanning the crowd, Harry spotted a familiar head of red hair. He was about to point this out to Ron, when he noticed that she was sitting right next to an even more familiar head of white-blond hair.

He gave Ron a nudge and then headed eagerly over to the table, praying his friend wouldn't kick up a stink when he realised who their drinking companions were.

He placed his and Ginny's drinks down on the table and grinned at the assembled group. They shifted round slightly to create space for the newcomers.

"Merlin, it's busy in here," Harry commented, as he slid gratefully into a space at Draco's side.

He looked up and saw that Ron was still standing, a horrified expression on his face as he took in the table's other occupants.

Before Ron could open his mouth to protest, Ginny reached out and grabbed hold of his arm. "Don't start," she chided. "Just sit down."

"Yes, Weasley, sit down. I've been keeping a spot warm for you." Pansy leered slightly in the redhead's direction.

Ron gulped visibly as he took the proffered seat. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"You're welcome, Weasley," Draco answered wryly. "Just so long as you keep your tongue to yourself this time."

A chorus of laughter erupted around the table at this comment, breaking the ice nicely. Ron, however, flushed a deep red.

Harry felt the tension ease out of his body at the press of Draco's thigh against his. Thinking the touch accidental, he looked at the other boy to see if he had noticed. When he saw Draco smiling shyly at him in return, Harry felt a tightening in his chest.

"Drinking in the day, Harry?" Draco teased, indicating his Firewhisky.

"Ron's idea," he explained.

Draco looked over to where the redhead was now being subjected to Pansy's overtures and chuckled. "I think Weasley may be in need of a few more before this day is out."

Harry glanced over the table. "I don't think he's as bothered as he looks. He's always had a thing for forceful women."

"What, like Professor McGonagall?" Blaise enquired, deciding to enter the conversation.

Ginny choked violently on her drink at this comment. "Thanks for that," she gasped. "That's a mental image I could have lived without."

Blaise just grinned in return and patted her back. "Oh, I don't know. I bet she was quite hot in her day. She's certainly a feisty one."

"Do you mind?" Ron interjected. "I am here, and I'm not deaf."

"I wish I was," Ginny muttered.

Blaise slid an arm around her shoulder. "Ah, ignore them and finish your drink. I'll get you another when you're done, to make it up to you."

The delicate tinge of pink that coloured Ginny's cheeks did not escape Harry's notice. He turned to Draco with a questioning glance.

"You know as much as me," Draco muttered. "But there must be something there, because Blaise is not renowned for putting his hand in his pocket."

Harry's gaze drifted from Ginny and Blaise, over to where Ron and Pansy were sitting closer to each other than was strictly necessary. Mind you, Harry thought, with the way Draco was pressed snugly against him, he was hardly one to talk.

"This is very cosy, isn't it," Draco whispered in his ear.

Harry tried to hide the shiver that ran through his body; Draco's breath against the sensitive flesh of his neck was doing very strange things to him. Not quite sure he would be able to form a coherent reply, he just nodded.

"I'm going to have to ask you to move, though," Draco continued.

Harry's heart sank at that; Draco had seemed to be enjoying the closeness as well, so what had changed? He just stared at the other boy with confusion in his wide eyes.

"I need the bathroom," Draco muttered. "I'll be back in a minute."

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He sat back in his chair and allowed Draco to get past, trying his hardest not to let his eyes linger too obviously on the blond's arse. Apparently, he had failed in that, because when he looked back at the table, he found both Ginny and Pansy grinning back at him.

Harry flushed at being caught and busied himself with finishing his drink, deciding to avoid all further eye contact until Draco returned.

By the time he had drank both his Firewhisky, and his butterbeer, Draco had still not returned to the table. By Harry's reckoning, he had to have been gone almost ten minutes now. And while he didn't want to embarrass the other boy if he really still was in the loo, something just didn't feel right about it.

Harry pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

"We said I'd get the next round." Ron was on his feet as well, reaching for his moneybag.

"I'm not going to the bar," Harry explained.

"Oh." Ron's defensiveness faded. "Well, where are you going?"

"The toilet," Harry muttered, flushing slightly.

"Going to offer Draco a hand, Potter?" Blaise asked teasingly. All he got in return for this comment was a sharp dig in the ribs from Ginny, and a rather fierce glare from Pansy.

Ron, Harry was relieved to notice, did not seem to have understood the real meaning of the remark; sometimes his best friend's obliviousness really did come in handy.

Harry pushed his way through the crowds, in the direction of the toilets. As he neared the door, he could hear raised voices, or, more precisely, a raised voice - Draco's. He strode through the door at speed, his wand already in hand.

"Like it rough, do you, Malfoy?" Terry Boot had Draco pressed against the wall, both his hands pinned above his head, and was grinding against him in a most disturbing fashion.

"I'm warning you, Boot," Draco snarled. "If you don't get off me right now, you're going to be in some very serious pain."

"You're a feisty one." Boot began licking trails along Draco's jaw line. "I'll tell you what-"

Whatever else he had been planning to say was lost, as he crashed to the floor. That was when Draco noticed a furious looking Harry Potter, standing in the doorway, wand trained on the unconscious Ravenclaw.

Draco stepped over the prone body, giving it a kick for good measure on the way. "My hero," he said, smiling at Harry. "What did you use on him?"

"Just a Stunner," Harry replied tersely, still struggling to get his anger under control. "Did he hurt you?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really. But what is it with people and licking me? Do I look like a lollypop or something?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at his indignation. "Come on," he said, sliding an arm around the other boy's shoulders. "It's probably best if were not around when he wakes up."

"We could go for a walk round the town," Draco suggested tentatively.

"You want me to come with you?" Harry's heart skipped a few beats at this.

"I think you'd better. Who knows what trouble I'll get into without you to save me."

"Harry, I'm cold." Draco tried his best to keep the whine out of his voice, he really did, but it was bloody freezing.

"D'you want to go back up to the school?" Harry asked in concern.

"No." Draco shook his head causing a curtain of blond hair to fall over his face. "If we go back, then you'll have to go back to your tower."

Harry realised this was as close as Draco was going to come to saying he wanted to spend time with him. But considering the short time he had left to savour moments like this, Harry was grateful for whatever he got.

"Come on then. I know where we can go."

Draco followed without protest, until he saw where they were heading. He stopped in his tracks. "I'm not going in there," he stated firmly.

Harry stopped and turned round to face him. "Why not?"

"Why not? Are you crazy, Potter? It's haunted."

Harry let out a chuckle. "I'm glad you find it amusing," Draco snapped. "But I'm still not going in."

Harry walked the few steps between them, until he was almost toe-to-toe with Draco. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. It's just… it's not haunted, Draco, I swear."

"Oh really." Draco raised one eyebrow and did not sound at all convinced.

"Yeah," Harry continued earnestly. "It wasn't ghosts, it was Professor Lupin. That's where he used to go during the full moon. Dumbledore just let everyone think it was haunted, so that they would stay away."

Draco eyed the Shrieking Shack warily. "If you're sure," he said, uncertainly.

Harry nodded. "Come on. I won't let anything bad happen to you." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry realised how true they were. The thought of anything happening to Draco made his guts twist, and he knew he would do anything to protect him.

Draco was about as impressed with the inside of the Shack as he was with the outside.

"It's not exactly clean, is it?" He turned up his nose ever so slightly.

Before he could process what he was doing, Harry reached out and gently tapped Draco on the nose. "You're so cute when you do that, you know," he said softly.

Normally Draco would have taken great offence at anyone terming him in this fashion. But that it was Harry, his mate, saying it, well, that just caused a great swell of affection to grow in his chest.

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco stepped closer. "You think I'm cute, Harry?" he asked, his voice slightly husky.

Harry's eyes grew impossibly wide and he just nodded. Almost trance-like, he reached out his hand slowly and traced his fingertips along the edge of Draco's jaw.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

Draco's Veela senses were screaming at him to do something, to not let this moment pass. This was his mate touching him, looking at him with desire in his eyes.

Closing the final distance between them, Draco raised his hands to rest on Harry's shoulders, gripping lightly. Sliding one hand to cup the back of Harry's neck, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he leant in.

Time seemed to stand still for Harry as he gazed at Draco's face. Even the rundown surroundings did nothing to detract from the sheer beauty of the boy in front of him. He noticed for the first time, the thick, dark lashes that fanned out against pale cheeks, the perfect cupid's bow of his lips, the way that silky hair curled behind his ears.

Hesitating for only a moment to absorb this overload of sensations, Harry slid his hand up to bury in the silken strands of Draco's hair, and wrapped the other around his slender waist. Tugging their bodies flush against one another, he leant in and sealed his lips over Draco's.

Harry had kissed before. Not hundreds of times, but enough to know that this was the most perfect kiss ever. He felt the soft warmth of Draco's lips moving against his own, the tip of a tongue trailing over his bottom lip before probing the depths of his mouth, and everything just felt so right.

He could feel his own heart beating so fast that he was sure it would explode from his chest, and his breath was coming so quick that he feared he might pass out from lack of oxygen. None of this, though, could persuade him to stop.

When he felt Draco's lips pull away, Harry let out a soft mewl of discontent. But it was short lived, however, as he felt the delicious sensation of tender kisses trailing down his neck and onto his throat. When Draco began to suckle gently just above his collarbone, Harry couldn't help but thrust against the warm body so close to his own.

The feel of Draco's erection pressing against his own, caused Harry to pull back in a panic.

Draco gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and reached out to smooth along his cheek. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Harry choked out. "I shouldn't have…"

Draco stared in dismay as Harry turned tail and ran. "Harry," he called desperately, his voice breaking slightly, but there was no reply.

The ache in his chest was unbearable. He had had his mate in his arms, willing and eager, and then something had gone wrong. But no matter how hard he racked his brains, or replayed the memory, Draco could not figure it out.

Heartbroken at the thought his mate was rejecting him, Draco Malfoy sank down onto a dirty floor, and began to cry for the first time since he had been a small child.

Meanwhile, Harry ran at full speed all the way back up to the castle. His lips were still tingling from that kiss, but all he could feel was sick. Sick that he had taken advantage of Draco, just like all those other people; he was as bad as Snape.

Draco had trusted him. Harry had promised that he would not let anyone harm him, and yet he had been the one to do it. He had betrayed that trust in the worst way possible.

Harry hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, extremely grateful that everyone was down in Hogsmeade, so that he didn't have to answer any awkward questions that his appearance would doubtless cause.

Unfortunately for him, as he scrambled through the Portrait hole, he ran into the last possible person that he wanted to see at that moment.

"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked into the kind, twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore, and prayed that he would be able to make this alright. For Harry's sake.

"It's about Harry, sir," she began.

"Indeed." Dumbledore leant back in his chair and regarded his Head Girl thoughtfully. "I do hope Mr Potter isn't in trouble."

"Not yet, sir, but he could be." Hermione paused here and tried to work out the best way to phrase what she wanted to say. "I think he's Malfoy's mate, and we have to stop him from finding out."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Harry is not aware of this development, then?"

"No. I haven't told him." Hermione shook her head earnestly. "Only Malfoy's being trying to get friendly with him, and it can't be long before he finds out, and we have to stop it."

"And you don't think that Harry would be receptive to the news?"

Hermione paused thoughtfully. "I think that Harry would feel obliged to accept the bond, whatever his personal feelings on the matter were. And it's not fair to him, Professor. Harry's had to sacrifice enough of his life fighting Voldemort, and now he's going to be expected to throw away his chance of a future as well."

"I wonder whether it could be throwing away his future?" Dumbledore mused, leaning forward to pour his tea. "I'm told that being the mate of a Veela is a most wonderful thing. This could be Harry's chance of happiness that you are wanting to stop."

"But Malfoy's a boy," Hermione cried. "And Harry's not even gay. He'll end up wanting to be with Malfoy just because of his allure, and it's not right. It's like being under a Love Potion or something."

Dumbledore settled his cup carefully back in its saucer. "I think it would be best," he said quietly, "if we let matters run their own course."

"You're not going to do anything about it?" Hermione demanded incredulously. "You're just going to let the Malfoys get their hooks into him?"

Dumbledore stood and smiled kindly at the Head Girl. "I wouldn't worry your head over it, Miss Granger. I have a feeling that everything will work out for the best." He gave her a gentle pat on the head. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a governors' meeting to attend."

Hermione eyed the Headmaster incredulously. But she retained enough sense to know that there was no moving Dumbledore once his mind was made up about something.

"Of course, sir," she said, through clenched teeth. "Thank you for your time."

Dumbledore watched her go, a faint smile on his face. "I think someone has a little crush, Fawkes," he mused, gently stroking the phoenix's head. "I fear our Head Girl is in for a rather unpleasant surprise."

"Harry! Are you in here?"

Ron came bounding up the steps and burst into the dormitory. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you.""I've been here all the time, Ron," Harry replied. "Where exactly did you look?"

Ron shook his head. "Never mind that. What happened in Hogsmeade? Did you and Malfoy have a fight or something? He seemed really upset. Oh, and Pansy says to tell you that she's going to kick your arse next time she sees you."

"It's nothing," Harry mumbled.

"Oh, come on. I might not be the most observant person, but even I can tell something is wrong. What did that git do to you?"

"Draco didn't do anything, it was me. I really don't want to talk about it right now." He sat up and faced his friend. "How was your day? You and Pansy looked like you were getting along."

Ron coloured a little. "She's okay," he admitted reluctantly. "Not at all like I thought she would be. I mean, she's still quite scary, but in a good way."

"You like her?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Harry smiled despite his own problems. "That's great, mate. I'm really pleased for you."

Ron looked up, a faint frown on his face. "It doesn't bother you, then? That she's a Slytherin?"

Harry laughed a little bitterly. "Why would I mind that? Look at me and Draco."

Ron got up and began to change his shirt, trying to ignore the awkward silence that had descended on the room. Pulling a clean jumper on, he walked over to his friend's bed, and perched on the edge of it.

"Harry."

"Yeah?"

"If I ask you something, will you promise not to get mad?"

"I promise to try," Harry replied. "But it rather depends on what you're about to say."

"Okay." Ron took a deep breath. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but are you…"

"Am I what?" Harry asked, a small smile quirking at his lips.

"Gay." Ron blurted out. "Are you gay?

Harry just stared at his friend, a stunned expression on his face. Of all the things he had expected Ron to ask, this had not even been on the list.

"It's okay if you are," Ron continued hurriedly. "It's not like it is in the Muggle world. Wizards don't really care about that sort of thing."

Harry looked at his friend and just knew that he couldn't hide the truth any longer. He figured it must have taken a lot for Ron to actually work up the courage to ask, and the least he could do was repay that with honesty.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I am."

Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Aw, mate. Don't look like that. What did you think I'd do? Turn my back on you?"

Harry reluctantly met his friend's gaze and shrugged.

"I don't care who you sleep with, just as long as you're happy." Ron paused here and then added quickly, "and as long as it's not my sister."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. "I think I can honestly promise you never to sleep with your sister, Ron. Your brothers on the other hand…"

Ron clapped his hands over his ears. "I don't want to hear that!"

Harry chuckled loudly and tugged his hands away. "Relax, I'm only teasing."

"I guess this means you won't be marrying into the family then," Ron said, a little despondently. "Mum was always hoping you'd marry Ginny one day."

Harry smiled sadly. "I'm afraid your mum's going to be disappointed. But it's okay. I've always thought of you guys as my family. Nothing's going to change that."

Ron beamed at these words, but then a frown came over his face. "So what's going on with you and Ginny, then? Why are you taking her to the dance, if you're not interested in her that way?"

Harry shook his head. "I told you at the time, Ron, we're just going as friends. Ginny knows that. Merlin, it was her idea."

Ron's frown relaxed instantly. "That's okay then, I suppose. I just didn't want to have to hit you for messing with my little sister."

"You've got no worries on that score from me," Harry reassured. "Blaise Zabini, on the other hand…"

"What!" Ron exploded. "What's that snake been doing with my sister? I'll bloody kill him."

Harry put a restraining hand on his arm. "It was just a joke, Ron. Ginny's got a bit of a crush on him, that's all."

Ron raked a hand through his hair. "That wasn't funny. Bloody hell, what is it with us lot and Slytherins lately?"

Harry didn't say anything in reply to this; he didn't want the topic of Draco to come up again.

"Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything."

"How did you know? That I was gay, I mean. Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not usually the most observant of people, and even Hermione hasn't worked it out yet."

Ron shrugged. "I just figured you'd have to be, you know? What with you being Malfoy's mate and all."

No matter where he went, who he was with, or how hard he tried to forget, Harry could not concentrate on anything other than those few simple words that Ron had said to him. Simple to his best friend, but earth-shatteringly, life-changing for him.

Following that conversation, and the very real, near heart failure that he experienced as a result, Harry had gone in search of Hermione. He was shocked when she admitted, albeit reluctantly, that she had already suspected he was

Malfoy's mate.

Harry had been outraged that she had kept something so important from him. That, once again, people were making decisions regarding his life, without consulting him.

Listening to Hermione's reasons, Harry began to feel slightly guilty. One of her main objections seemed to stem from her belief that he was straight, and Harry knew, however much he wanted to keep that part of himself private, that he had to disillusion her.

It had been a very uncomfortable conversation. One that was not helped at all by Harry's sneaking suspicion of Hermione's feelings for him. In fact, it had actually taken some convincing to get her to accept it; she had been convinced it was all part of some brain washing technique of Malfoy's.

Once she had finally come to terms with his sexuality, Harry had then pressed for more information surrounding the whole Veela mate situation. Hermione had explained it simply for him, but had taken care to point out that he was under no obligation to agree to anything.

She had encouraged Harry to take some time away from Malfoy to think about what was best for him. Though she had been at pains to point out that, in her opinion, forming a lifelong bond with a Malfoy was a definite bad idea.

All of this left Harry more than a little confused. He understood the mechanics of what was involved in being a Veela's mate; Hermione had supplied him with more than enough literature to make sure of that. These books were full of facts and figures, but there was nothing on feelings or emotions. There was nothing in them that helped Harry whatsoever.

It was stupid, really, when he thought about. He was attracted to Draco, very attracted, and for the last few days had been sulking over the fact he would lose him once the Veela found his mate. Really, this was the perfect solution to the problem.

The only thing was that Harry no longer trusted what he felt. He couldn't be sure what part of his attraction was real, and what part of it was controlled purely by Draco's allure.

After having other people keep secrets and make decisions for him, for so many years, Harry hated to feel out of control. And that was exactly how this situation felt. If he gave in to this, if he accepted his 'destiny', then it would be like giving away his power over his own life. And he just wasn't sure he could do that.

Rationally, Harry knew that none of this was Draco's fault. That, in some ways, he was just as much a victim of circumstance as Harry had ever been. But none of that stopped the resentful feelings that bubbled within him every time he laid eyes on the blond.

Since the events of the previous weekend, Harry had been doing his utmost to avoid Draco. He stayed away from the Great Hall, having Dobby bring him food in the dormitory instead. He rarely strayed outside of Gryffindor tower unless it was for lessons. And during those, when he was forced to interact with Draco on some level, Harry was polite and civil, but would not be drawn further.

Despite Draco's best efforts, Ginny's constant nagging, and several threats of bodily harm from Pansy, Harry would not be swayed. He was afraid that being around Draco, coming under the effects of his allure, would cloud his judgement. And apart from the very real confusion he was experiencing, Harry felt it would not be fair to Draco to give him any false hope, when he had yet to decide whether or not to accept the bond.

Even Professor Dumbledore had tried to discuss the issue, but Harry had resisted all of the old man's attempts to open a dialogue. He was determined he would not be manipulated any longer. Whatever he decided, it would be because it was what he wanted.

Draco was heartbroken; there was no other way to put it. He did his best to put on a brave face, to act as if nothing was the matter, but those closest to him saw straight through it.

Pansy had extracted the full story of what had happened in Hogsmeade within minutes of seeing his stricken face. When they had got back to school, she had banished the other boys from the dormitory, summoned numerous house-elves, who provided an endless supply of chocolate, and had then proceeded to pet and cosset Draco to such a degree that he had, inevitably, broken down.

If he had though things couldn't get much worse, well, he had been deluded. Draco heard, via Pansy, that for once in his life, Ron Weasley had employed his sense of observation, and had seen fit to inform Harry of his mate status.

It had been bad enough to think that Harry was running away from their kiss, but this…well, to Draco's Veela senses, this felt like rejection.

He tried his hardest to see Harry, to talk to him so he could try to explain. He sent owls, which were returned unopened. He waited patiently outside the Great Hall at mealtimes, hoping to catch Harry on his way in, only to wait in vain when the other boy failed to appear. Draco had even tried going up to Gryffindor tower with the idea of forcing Harry to speak to him, but he hadn't even made it past the portrait guarding the entrance.

The strain was starting to take its toll. Draco hadn't slept more than a few hours a night since Harry had kissed him. And when he did finally manage to fall asleep, his dreams were plagued with visions of what he had lost, a future he could never hope to have.

His hair lost its lustre, and the ethereal glow faded from his skin. His appetite virtually disappeared, and faint purple bruises appeared under his eyes. Only Pansy's incessant nagging caused him to make any effort whatsoever with his appearance.

She insisted he dress his best, style his hair, Glamour his face, and not let that 'bastard Potter' see that he was in any way affected.

The problem with that plan was that, secretly, Draco had wanted Harry to see how much he was hurting. A small part of him hoped that the other boy would take one look at his fading appearance, and would relent towards him. However, as Harry was doing his utmost to avoid Draco, and was refusing to make eye contact, this plan was doomed to failure.

As Valentine's day approached, Draco's allure went into overdrive. He could barely leave his bed without having a string of drooling, glazed-eyed fools following wherever he went. To his absolute horror, even Filch had taken to lurking around the dungeons in the hopes of coaxing a kiss from the beautiful Veela.

By the time the day of the dance rolled round, Draco had taken more than he could handle. It was bad enough that he had had to experience some very traumatic gropings over the last few weeks, but now he didn't even have the prospect of a mate at the end of it all. He was going to go on being hounded, lusted after at every turn, until the allure slowly drove him crazy.

He evicted his roommates from the dormitory, and barricaded himself inside with the use of several Locking Charms. Dressed only in his favourite, but slightly threadbare, pyjamas, Draco settled down under his duvet, closed his eyes, and tried to will the ache in his heart away.

To have been so close to his mate, to actually have him in his arms, and then to lose him, it caused a pain in Draco's heart that made the Cruciatus look like a hangnail. His Veela half was screaming out for its mate, but the rest of him ached for Harry as well.

It was the little things he missed the most. The way Harry's eyes would crinkle round the edges when he smiled, how he had always laughed at Draco's jokes, no matter how lame or corny, the effort Harry had made to get along with his friends, even though they were people who had made his life miserable for years. And then there was that way he had of chewing nervously on his bottom lip; a habit that made Draco want to grab hold of him and suck on the much-abused flesh.

Draco tried his hardest not to think of these things, not to tease himself with what he would never have, but it was easier said than done. Harry was under his skin and in his blood now, and there was no going back.

Harry stood in front of the mirror, trying his best to straighten his tie. He hated wearing dress robes; they always made him feel uncomfortable and out of place. But there was no getting out of going to the Ball. He had made the barest suggestion to Ginny that he had better not go, and the resulting outcry had probably been heard in Hogsmeade.

So, not wanting to incur her wrath further, he had relented. Despite his fears over seeing Draco, Harry was slightly more afraid of Ginny's temper; that girl had perfected the Bat Bogey Hex into an art form.

Giving up on his tie, Harry turned away from the mirror, muttering to himself. He looked up and found that Ron was stood, staring at him.

"You alright, mate?" he asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. You, on the other hand, look like shit."

Harry grimaced. "Thanks for the compliment." He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "I've not been sleeping well," he admitted.

"Harry, can I say something?"

Harry eyed him warily. "Depends what it's about."

"Malfoy," Ron replied shortly.

"Then no." Harry's tone was firm and left no room for argument.

Ron shook his head and turned as if to leave the room. He got halfway to the door before stopping and turning back to face his friend.

"No. You know what? You need to hear this, because Hermione's been filling your head with all sorts of nonsense, and it's time someone told you the truth."

Harry looked startled at the vehemence in his friend's tone. "Okay. So what is the truth?"

Ron raked his hands through his hair and though furiously. "Look, I don't pretend to see what you like about the ferrety git, but there's obviously something. You really like him, and I'm okay with that."

"I never said…" Harry protested.

"Mate, you kissed him," Ron answered simply.

"H-How did you know about that?" Harry flushed bright red.

"Pansy, of course. But that's beside the point."

Harry walked over to his bed and sank down on it. "So what is the point?"

"Malfoy's a mess right now. He thinks you're rejecting him, and he's pining away something fierce. Now I've never claimed to be his biggest fan, but even I feel sorry for him."

Harry looked up in surprise.

"Don't look at me like that," Ron defended. "I'm not a completely heartless git. He's in love with you, and you won't even look at him. How do you think he feels?"

Harry just shrugged. Ron reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're scared. Hell, I would be too. Bonding yourself to someone is a huge thing. But I think you're missing the big picture."

Harry didn't say anything; he just stared at Ron waiting for him to continue.

"He loves you, so much so, that he'd probably die for you. This bond that you're running away from, it's the kind of relationship that most people would give their right arm for. People wait their whole lives to find someone who feels that kind of passion for them. But you've already got it.

Yes, it's forever, and there's no getting out of it afterwards, but why is that such a bad thing? You're his mate because his Veela senses, or whatever they are, chose you. It's not just a random thing, it's because you're compatible. Out of everyone in the world, you are the person who will make him happiest, and he you."

Finally having run out of breath, Ron sank down onto the bed at this side of his friend.

"I'm scared," Harry croaked, so quietly that Ron barely heard him.

"Yeah? Well so is Malfoy. Look, don't make me defend him anymore than is strictly necessary; it's not good for my health. Just pull your head out of your arse."

"I can't believe you just said all that." Harry looked at his friend in almost wonder.

"I'm not the insensitive git that everyone thinks I am," Ron replied. "But if you tell anyone, I'll deny it."

"You'd really be okay with this?"

"It'd take some getting used to, I'll admit. But, Harry, you're like a brother to me. I care about you, and I want you to be happy. Merlin knows you've had enough crap happen to you in the past."

"And you think that this will make me happy?"

Ron nodded. "I know it. You wouldn't be his mate otherwise."

Harry stood up. "Could you do me a favour and apologise to Ginny for me?"

"Why? For what?" Ron stood up, a puzzled expression on his face.

Harry was already heading for the door. "Where you going?"

A wide smile broke out across Harry's face. "I've got a Veela to find."

Ron crossed the room and clapped him on the back. "Good man. Though I think I'd better come with you. You might run into Pansy, and let's just say you're not her favourite person at the moment."

By the time the two friends made it down to the Great Hall, the dance was already underway. They came skidding to a halt in the doorway, their eyes scanning the crowd.

"There's Pansy," Ron shouted, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the band. He grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve and dragged him over in her direction.

The dark-haired girl turned to smile at Ron, but it froze on her face when she saw who he was with. "You've got a nerve, Potter," she snarled.

"Not now," Ron muttered, placing a hand on her arm. "We just need to find Malfoy. Where is he?"

Pansy laughed bitterly. "You think I'm going to let him near Draco after how he's treated him? What do you want him for any way?" She turned and glared fiercely at Harry. "You planning to rip the last bit of his heart out and stamp on that too?"

"You've got every right to be angry with me," Harry said earnestly. "And when this is sorted out, you can hex me as much as you like. But right now, I just need to get to Draco."

Pansy gazed at him for what seemed like an age. Her narrowed eyes inspected his face for some sign of…well, whatever it was, she obviously found it.

"He's locked in his dorm. Has been all day, and refuses to come out. The password to the common room is Serpentia." She stepped closer so that she was toe to toe with Harry. "Don't make me regret this."

Harry resisted the urge to hug her, wisely deciding that would not go down at all well. "You won't. I promise."

With that, he turned and began running at full speed out of the Great Hall.

Draco had slept fitfully throughout the course of the day, and now lay, wide-awake, curled around a pillow, feeling very sorry for himself.

Pansy had tried her hardest to persuade him to attend the dance still. She had coaxed, begged, and even made some very alarming threats. But Draco would not be shaken from his misery. The last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by people. Apart from the rather high odds of him getting molested, Draco just wanted to be alone.

The way he saw it, was that now his mate had rejected him, he was going to be spending what was left of his life alone, so he had better start getting used to it.

He sniffled miserably, and burrowed further under his duvet, before a banging on his door had him sitting bold upright. Then, the most amazing thing happened.

"Draco! Draco! It's Harry. Open the door please. I need to talk to you."

As much as his rational side was reminding him how much the other boy had hurt him, and demanding that he tell Harry to go away, Draco's Veela side had other ideas.

Before he realised what he was doing, Draco had his wand in hand, and was casting the counter charms to the Locking Spell he had used.

Harry tumbled into the room and Draco's heart leapt into his mouth. In dress robes, his mate looked even more stunning than usual. "What are you doing here?" he managed to croak at last.

Draco watched as Harry shuffled his feet and blushed slightly. "You weren't at the dance," he blurted out. "And I…I…"

Harry stepped nearer to the bed, and Draco forgot to breathe.

"I wanted to ask you to dance," Harry finished softly, holding his hand out.

Draco gaped at him for a moment. "But I'm not dressed," he said, taking that strong hand and allowing himself to be pulled from his bed.

Harry's eyes ran down his pyjama-clad body, and smiled. "You look perfect." He pulled Draco closer to his body, and slid one arm around his waist. The other he brought up to tangle in the sleep-mussed strands of Draco's hair.

"There's no music," Draco protested weakly, allowing himself to be held close.

"Doesn't matter," Harry murmured, his breath ghosting over Draco's cheek, causing tiny shivers to course through his body.

Draco pulled back slightly and stared up at Harry with wonder in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he whispered. "Because, I don't think I could stand it if you…"

Draco's words trailed off here as he saw the love shining in Harry's eyes. "Shush." Harry pulled him close again, and began moving them slowly, as if to the strains of a song that only he could hear. One of his hands cupped Draco's cheek. "It's okay. I'm sure," he replied, before leaning in and softly pressing his lips against Draco's.

Lost to the sensation of having his mate at last, Draco slid his arms around Harry's neck, his fingers burying in the short hair at his nape. Harry's lips were soft against his own, and the pressure was so gentle, so tender, that he thought he might cry.

Harry broke the kiss and pulled back to gaze at Draco. "I've never wanted anything more."

When Harry's hands came to rest uncertainly on the buttons to his pyjama top, Draco looked into his mate's eyes and nodded his permission. He ached to feel Harry's hands on him, touching him, caressing him, bringing him to completion.

Harry slowly undid Draco's top, his eyes drinking in the sight of his bare torso. He slid the top off over Draco's shoulders and allowed his hands to trail over the pale flesh. Unable to resist any longer, Harry lowered his head and began to suckle on the tender skin just below Draco's collarbone.

Draco guided Harry's hands to the waistband of his pyjama pants and then gave an encouraging wiggle. Taking the hint, Harry quickly began sliding them down over his hips, until they were pooled around his feet.

Stepping out of them, Draco pulled back slightly and looked at his mate with uncertainty in his eyes. He had never felt so naked before, and not just because he actually was naked now, but because this person, Harry, his mate, had the power to hurt him like no one else. Standing there, with Harry's intense gaze raking over his body, it felt to Draco like every secret, every insecurity that he had kept closely guarded, now lay exposed.

"Beautiful," Harry murmured finally.

Draco smiled shakily and closed the distance between them. He reached out with trembling hands and began to divest Harry of his robes. It took longer than he would have liked, mainly because his hands were shaking too much to handle the tiny buttons on his shirt. But eventually, Harry's body was revealed to him in all its glory, and trailing a finger down his mate's well-defined abdomen, Draco was convinced he had died and gone to Veela heaven.

Harry led him slowly towards the bed, and eased him down on it with such care and tenderness. Then there was that amazing feel of skin on skin, and Draco was whimpering, begging for more, without a care of who might hear him.

Harry kissed and nibbled his way down Draco's torso, paying particular attention to his pert, dusky nipples, and the hollow of his navel. By the time he reached his destination, Draco was already writhing on the bed, certain that it would all be over the moment Harry actually touched him.

When Draco felt the warmth of Harry's mouth engulf his aching cock, his hands twisted in the bed sheets, knuckles turning white, and it took every ounce of self-control for him not to thrust wildly into his mate's enticing mouth.

Harry sucked eagerly, revelling in the musky smells, and the sounds of delight that were coming from Draco. He trailed his fingers between Draco's willingly spread thighs and gently teased the nub of skin just behind his balls.

He pulled back for a moment and glanced up to enjoy the effect his ministrations were having. Draco was writhing, slack-jawed, in pleasure, his fingers now teasing and twisting his own nipples. "Please," he whimpered. "Don't stop."

Harry grinned and then licked a stripe along the underside of his cock. "I won't," he promised. "Not ever."

Then, after whispering a Lubrication Charm, that was a friend to teenage wizards everywhere, Harry trailed his fingers further down, until they were slowly circling Draco's puckered opening.

By the time Harry had two fingers inside him, stretching him in preparation, Draco was whining desperately.

"Harry, please."

"Shhh," Harry soothed, adding a third finger slowly. "Just relax."

Draco hissed slightly at the burning sensation caused by having three fingers inside him, but his brain was too full of what was to come to complain. Just the thought of having Harry inside him, of them joining together, was enough to make him sob with desire.

Finally, Harry slid his fingers out and sat back on his heels. One hand smoothed along the silky pale skin of Draco's thigh, while the other slowly massaged more lubrication onto his straining erection.

As he felt the blunt head of Harry's cock nudging against his entrance, Draco reached down and hooked his hands under his knees. He pulled his legs back against his chest, displaying his stretched opening.

"I'll be as slow as I can," Harry whispered, gently pushing his way inside Draco's tight channel. Once he was fully sheathed inside, he stopped moving, and looked up at his partner with concerned eyes.

"You okay?"

Draco nodded. He wriggled experimentally, feeling the width of Harry stretching him, filling him completely. "Move, please."

"So fucking tight," Harry groaned. "You feel so good."

As Harry began moving in long, steady strokes, Draco reached out with one hand and tugged his mate down for a kiss. "I love you," he whispered, just before his lips met Harry's in a searing kiss.

The feel of Draco's muscles tightening around his shaft was too much for Harry. "You keep doing that," he gasped, "and I won't last much longer."

Draco smiled lovingly. "That's okay. We have the whole rest of our lives to do this."

Harry grinned suddenly. "We do, don't we." He gave a particularly forceful thrust, hitting a spot deep within Draco that caused him to mewl with delight.

Draco began stroking furiously at his own cock, only to have Harry bat his hand away.

"Mine," he growled, and that voice alone was enough to have Draco arch of the bed, shooting pearlescent drops of come all over his own chest and Harry's hand.

Harry gave a few more deep thrusts before burying his head in the crook of Draco's neck and almost sobbing his completion.

After a few moments, Harry reluctantly slid out of Draco, missing the sensation of tight heat almost instantly. He pulled Draco to him so that they were spooned, back to chest, and began nuzzling the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck. "That was amazing," he murmured.

Draco nestled further into the warmth of his mate's body, twining their fingers together. "I know. Now I get what all the fuss is about, we're definitely doing that again."

Harry chuckled at this. "Give me ten minutes or so, and I should be good to go." He finished up with a suggestive thrust against Draco's buttocks.

Draco gave his thigh a playful slap. "Sex fiend."

The two boys lay wrapped in each other for sometime, just enjoying the closeness.

"Harry," Draco whispered.

Harry lifted his head from where he had been nuzzling Draco's shoulder. "Yeah?"

"You're really okay with this? Me being a Veela?"

Harry tugged at Draco's body until he rolled over to face him. Reaching out with one hand, he brushed strands of hair tenderly off Draco's face.

"You're not just a Veela," he said firmly. "You're my Veela."

"I like that," Draco said, nuzzling against Harry's chest. "I like being yours."

Harry stroked Draco's hair lovingly. "And I'm yours, too."