Part Three of Six

Part III

"Malfoy!" Harry hissed, prodding none-too-gently at the body on the hospital bed.

Malfoy didn't stir.

Harry had found the idea of putting Malfoy in his place highly appealing. It had occupied his thoughts until he'd finally fallen asleep the night before. But then, come early morning...way, way too early morning...the thoughts had driven away sleep and so explained his presence in the infirmary, poking at Malfoy with determination.

Deciding to wait, Harry sat at the foot of Malfoy's bed, uncaring that the movement shook the patient. He crossed his arms over his chest. What was it like to be a veela, he wondered. Could Malfoy fly? He had wings, sort of. Harry had seen something in the bathroom mirror, though they hadn't actually been on Malfoy. Harry wondered who would win in a race: flying veela Malfoy or him on his broom?

He thought he would win.

"Potter?" came a croaking voice.

"Yeah. Now wake up, we have to talk."

Malfoy heaved a sigh and said, "I feel like shit. Could you get me some food or something?"

"No, I'm not getting you food," Harry snapped. "I'm here because I have something to say."

"So you know, then." Malfoy rolled onto his side and sat up, scooting back against the metal headboard and propping his pillow against it.

"Yeah, and I think it's really stupid, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Malfoy said dryly.

"Well, I don't care! You tell me all about your veela-ness and then expect me to, what? Pretend you said nothing? You need to look at this as an opportunity."

"To what?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed and focused on Harry. He still looked quite ill, and his breathing was a little ragged, but he was alert, and that was something.

"To be with someone...to have someone! Don't you think your mate deserves to know, too? This isn't just about you."

"Potter, what are you talking about?"

"You have a mate and you're too stubborn or stupid or both to make your claim."

"Oh, and let me guess, strong and brave Harry Potter would just dive right in, claiming his mate without a second thought?"

Harry glared. So what if he would?

"And what if this mate was no good for you? What if he hated you...or you hated him? What then?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry moved closer on the bed so they could lower their voices, though he doubted they were raised merely because of the distance. "You can't hate your mate, you utter moron. They are your mate, your match, your other half. You love them and they love you. That's what having a mate means."

Malfoy's eyes were round. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, creating a very obvious barrier between them. "Where did you hear that, Witch Weekly? You've never even met a veela before, and you obviously don't know anything about us."

"I have so met a veela," Harry retorted. "Fleur Delacour, one of the Twiwizard Champions. She married Ron's brother."

Malfoy was nodding as if Harry had explained much more than he really had. "So you think that because Delacour and Weasley are madly in love that that's how it happens? Your naiveté is showing."

"They do love each other!"

"Oh, for... yes, yes, I'm sure they do. But that's not always the way of it, all right? Not all veela are lucky enough to fall in love with their mates. Mates are simply the physical and spiritual match for the veela. There's no rule that says anything about love."

"Oh," Harry said, deflated. What the hell was the point of that, then? "So you do know who your mate is, I take it?"

"Of course I do." Malfoy looked tired, and Harry felt a little guilty for waking him when he obviously needed the sleep.

"And you don't think you could ever love him?" To be tied to someone for life without love... instead of being angry with Malfoy, all Harry could feel was pity.

"That's not... exactly the problem," Malfoy admitted. He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

"What is, then?" Harry couldn't help but be drawn into Malfoy's drama. It was tragic and unfair, and Harry wasn't feeling jealous anymore.

"It's him."

"I see. Well..." Unsure what to say to a suddenly candid Malfoy, Harry shifted. "Good luck, then."

He'd barely slid off the bed before Malfoy said the words that would change his life forever.

"It's you, Potter."

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. "Don't be stupid. Did Pomfrey put you on drugs or something?"

A weariness that went far beyond his years settled on Malfoy's pale, normally haughty features. "Just go."

"No! Why would you say something like that? What are you trying to prove? Are you even a veela, or was all this just to fuck with my head?" Even as he said it, the words rang untrue.

"Just get out of here!" Malfoy shouted, and then groaned and clutched his head. "Please, go."

"I'm not leaving until you explain." The longer Malfoy left the words hanging in the air, the more Harry was forced to entertain their veracity. Could he really be the hated mate Malfoy had referred to? There was that connection between them...

"There's nothing to explain. There were dreams. You were in them. I didn't believe it until I saw you. Now there's no denying it. It's true. All you have to do is deny me, all right? Just say no thanks, and I can find another mate."

Harry froze. "It's that easy? Why didn't you tell me before?"

Again, Malfoy wouldn't look at Harry. "I don't know," he whispered, but there was more to the words than Harry could begin to understand. "But now you know, so go ahead."

"Nothing personal, right? You get that, don't you?" For some reason, the thought of just flat-out telling Malfoy he didn't want him was... uncomfortable. He didn't want Malfoy, of course. It just all seemed so callous, and it was happening so fast...

"Yes, yes. Get on with it!"

"Okay. So, er, Malfoy, well, I'm sure you're, you know, a swell guy once a person gets to know you... or whatever. But seeing as we hate each other and that..."

"It's not like a break-up," Malfoy snapped, his grey eyes furious. "Though if that's how you normally do it, I actually feel sorry for the Weaslette. Just say it. "

"Calm down! So, this will break the connection between us, too, right? Because that's kind of creepy. I mean, what if I died?"

"I would die," Malfoy said simply. "And yes, it will break the connection."

"I reject you, then. Er, veela Malfoy, I reject you. Is that formal enough?"

Malfoy stared at Harry for a long time, forcing Harry to shrink back a little. Normally he would have glared back, but Malfoy didn't really seem angry. He shouldn't be; now he could go find whatever wizard struck his fancy and mate with them, instead.

"That's fine. We're all set, Potter. Kindly leave."

"Oh. Okay. And you're sure it worked?" A strange, bereft feeling settled over Harry, but he pushed it away. Honestly, why would he consider, even for a second, that being mated to a veela...to Malfoy...could be a good thing?

"It definitely worked." Malfoy's voice was certain, but he winced, and it seemed so out of character for someone who normally kept all cards to his chest that Harry hesitated.

"I'll leave now," Harry said.

"Do."

Harry rose, not taking his eyes off Malfoy. Still huddled at the head of the bed, Malfoy looked strangely small. He would have hated to know that Harry had thought such a thing.

"Bye, then." Malfoy didn't respond and Harry walked away, turning before the door to see Malfoy lay back down on his side, facing away from Harry.

Please, Harry thought, but if asked, he wouldn't have been able to admit what he was begging for. Watching Malfoy, Harry dug his nails into his arm and dragged them brutally across his skin.

Malfoy howled.

"What the hell!" Harry shouted, running back to the bed. Malfoy didn't turn over to face him, just curled up more tightly.

Harry walked around the bed, but Malfoy's eyes were closed tight.

"Why did you lie?" Harry asked, remembering to keep his voice down. The last thing he wanted was for Madam Pomfrey to come and kick him out. Not before all this was settled.

"I didn't know. It's your fault, anyway."

"How is this my fault? I did as you said; I rejected you."

Too quickly for someone as weak as Malfoy was supposed to be, he sat up, fixing a dark glare on Harry, who took a step back in reaction.

"You have to mean it."

"I did mean it!" Harry cried reactively. "Of course I meant it."

"Well, you obviously didn't convince the veela in me. Fuck, it's like you just..." Malfoy broke off, his eyes wild for a second before he flopped back down on the bed, groaning.

"What?"

"It...the veela part...thinks you're teasing it. Like some sort of... mating ritual."

It was so strange that it would have been funny had it happened to anyone else but Harry. Being in the centre of it, being involved, made it scarier than anything else.

"Well, tell your stupid veela part to back off and take no for an answer."

"If you don't plan on actively rejecting me and meaning it, there's nothing I can do."

The words were ominous, and Harry was chilled, as if a breeze had curled off the walls and surrounded him. "What does that mean?"

Malfoy looked small again, and cold. And... scared. "It means that until you actually manage to realise what a stupid and horrible idea this is, you're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you. There are certain steps... If we don't take them, I won't get better."

"I do know what a bad idea this is! It's your fault for not knowing that no means no. And what steps? If we don't take the steps, won't that just mean that you'll know you're being rejected?"

When Malfoy spoke, it was quiet and clear, resigned. "There's a huge difference between being pushed away by a potential mate and being pushed away by my actual mate. Which you are. If you don't reject me, you're my mate, and if the steps aren't taken, I get worse."

Harry's knees felt too insubstantial to keep him up, so he crouched on the floor and buried his hands in his hair. Why didn't the veela think that Harry meant the rejection? He did! He didn't want to be bound to Malfoy, to be stuck with one person forever...

Oh. Except that he did. That last part, anyway. Harry wanted a forever love. And for some reason, fate or whatever had deigned to give him that chance. Maybe not the way he might have liked, no. He could think of about a million people better suited than he and Malfoy were. Still, there was a reason for all of this, wasn't there? If there was anything Harry'd learned since becoming a wizard, it was that everything seemed to happen for a reason.

Maybe a part of him didn't want to reject Malfoy because he'd be giving up on his chance...possibly his only chance...for a lifelong connection. Could he even battle that part of himself? Could he somehow convince his heart that Malfoy was all wrong for him?

"I can't do it," Harry muttered, unable to look up and see if Malfoy was peering over the side of the bed, basking in his patheticness.

A flash of white startled Harry into falling on his arse as his line of sight became saturated with Malfoy, who was suddenly on the floor in front of Harry, a strange smile on his face. He still looked sickly, so the effect was chilling, but there were was a strange glow around him, centred on his huge, white wings.

Like a predator, Malfoy crawled toward him on hands and knees, white-blond hair falling into his eyes, his wings tall and erect on his back.

"Holy shit," Harry said, awed. Malfoy looked... powerful. Unearthly, preternatural, almost demonic but somehow beautiful.

And then Malfoy stopped in front of Harry, who'd leaned back on his hands to take in more of the vision before him. Malfoy pushed Harry's legs apart with his knees, towering over him.

"Harry Potter," Malfoy murmured, the sound clear and low. The immense whiteness that surrounded Malfoy seemed to glimmer and pulse. "My mate. Inconvenient, maybe, but not the worst case scenario, certainly."

Harry tried to glower but couldn't hold it. Malfoy's wings stretched out and then closed around them both, the tips tickling Harry's arms before they circled around his back, enveloping them in an embrace together.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry demanded. "Anyone could walk in and they'd find out about what you are! About what I am now!"

Softer than a whisper, the wings trembled and retracted, vanishing seamlessly into Malfoy's back, which glowed white for a moment before returning to his normal, too-pale skin tone. The shimmering whiteness left with the wings, and now Malfoy was nothing more than a normal boy...

A normal boy who was sniffing Harry's neck.

"Er, okay, so, now that that's all figured out, I can go, right?" Harry wanted to get up...needed to get up...but he didn't. Malfoy's body was hot, the warmth radiating out to kiss Harry's skin, even through his clothing. Malfoy's lips, which were on Harry's neck, were cold, making the tongue that poked out to taste him startling in contrast. "Malfoy, get off of me!"

"Silly Potter," Malfoy said, tsking. "You couldn't reject me; that means you accept me. You're mine. And there are steps, remember? To make sure I'll get better, that I won't stay or get sick again."

"What steps?" he demanded. He tried to shuffle back, but Malfoy's hands gripped his thighs and held him steady. There was a pinch through Harry's trousers, almost like claws, though Malfoy's fingernails seemed perfectly groomed. Still, Harry decided to remain immobile for the time being.

"Well, I have to claim you, obviously."

Harry sighed. "All right, but make it fast, yeah?"

Malfoy purred, and before Harry could fully take in that fact, Malfoy's lips were pressed against his, harsh and demanding, unyielding. Harry buckled under the onslaught, falling onto his back on the cold infirmary floor.

Malfoy was atop him instantly, covering him with his larger body. "I'm glad to hear you're so amenable," he whispered before kissing Harry again.

"Whoa, whoa, Malfoy," Harry said, coming back to himself and pushing Malfoy at the shoulders.

Malfoy relented only slightly, propping himself up and looking down at Harry with a perked eyebrow. "You should probably call me Draco," he said in a musing voice, giving Harry an animalistic smile.

"You should probably get off of me," Harry countered.

"But, Harry, " Malfoy...fuck, Draco...whispered against Harry's cheek. "You said you wanted to be claimed."

"That has nothing to do with all this kissing, though! Say you claim me and get it over with. Honestly."

Draco laughed, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he shook his head. Harry was really beginning to resent the position he was in. He was the mate. He should be in control! Or, at least, control should maybe be shared.

"My little mate..." Draco's fingers were warm against Harry's cheek, soft. But they turned harsh as they moved down to his neck, gripping his throat and applying enough pressure that Harry gasped. "It's not like a rejection. It's a little more than words. Actually, a lot more."

"How much more?" Harry whispered, taking a deep breath as Draco's hand loosened.

"Enough that we're going to want to get a little more comfortable. I don't think a claiming should take place on the stone floor, do you? Especially since it'll be your first time."

"First time? First time for what?" Harry asked in a rush, hating the grin on Draco's face and the rush of blood that said maybe the floor wasn't so bad after all.

"Dear Harry, I'm going to make you come. Then you get a neat little tattoo. And then you're mine."

"What?" Harry was horrified to hear his voice almost a squeak. That was just too much to take in. Coming? Tattoos? His?

"I reject you," Harry tried again, desperate. "I totally, wholeheartedly reject you and your pervy steps and your permanent body modification. Rejected."

Draco chuckled and took Harry's hand, poking Harry in the ribs with it. They both grunted at the slight pain. "I wonder if, when I take you for the first time, I'll feel it in my own arse? I guess not, since I can't feel the pain I cause you. Probably for the best."

"How about I fuck you?" Harry offered, willing to bargain since his stupid brain obviously wouldn't let go of the idea that he had a mate for life.

"I don't think so, little mate. There are certain dynamics to be upheld in a veela relationship."

Harry's brain pounded. "I don't think Fleur fucks Bill," he said; it was a straw, so he grasped.

"Maybe not in the way I'm going to fuck you soon enough, but I guarantee she is very much in control."

The words invoked way too many mental images about people he considered family. Also... if he couldn't manage to reject Draco, Fleur and Bill would totally know that he was the... the bottom. Blood rushed into his cheeks at the thought of their knowing stares and Draco's contented smirk should they ever be in the same room together.

"This tattoo, then," he said, changing tacks. "It'll go away once I manage to reject you, right?"

Draco rose abruptly. After watching Harry struggle to do the same for a moment, he sighed and held out a hand. An uncomfortable déjà vu assaulted Harry. He took Draco's hand, still holding it after he'd regained his footing.

"Here's the thing, Potter. After I claim you, you can't reject me. Only a potential mate can reject a veela. If I claim you, you're definitely mine, no backing out. If you try to reject me at that point, I'll get sick again, faster and worse than before."

Harry dropped Draco's hand, aware that his own was slightly damp. "How long would it take you to get over that, then?"

"I won't."

"Oh. Oh. Then we really, really shouldn't, you know, do the claim thing."

"There is something of a time crunch, Potter. If you hadn't come to see me, I might not have woken up at all. I sensed your presence enough to wake up. If you leave me in this limbo, I'll get very sick, very fast, and I might not wake up again."

"Are you saying you could actually die if you don't, you know, makemecome?"

Draco perched on the edge of the bed. He didn't seem as imposing now that he wasn't pinning Harry beneath him. But Harry remembered how quickly Draco had moved when Harry had been on the floor; he wasn't taking chances, so he remained standing.

"I don't know if I'll die. I'll just fall asleep. And I won't wake up."

"Fuck. Why didn't Hermione tell me that? Why didn't we learn this stuff in school?"

Draco shrugged. His eyes were shadowed. "There's not many like me alive right now. All I know is what I've inferred from reading and what my intuition tells me. As for learning it in school, well, we did. Some of it. But veela are very private, reluctant to even share the secrets amongst themselves. Trust me."

Defeated, Harry took a seat despite his reservations. If Draco wanted to attack him again, it would happen. Those were just the dynamics, apparently. Expecting the worst, Harry was surprised when Draco's hand came over and rested right beside Harry's, the length of their smallest fingers touching. Draco seemed to relax at the touch, bowing his head forward slightly.

"Tell me about the steps," Harry said. His mind was made up, whether he liked it or not. He was reserving judgement at the moment. This side of Draco was a little easier to digest than his normal snide and cruel self.

"They aren't really steps so much as guidelines. There are things we'll need to do in order to build the bond. Once that's complete, things should calm down a little."

"What will calm down?"

Draco hesitated long enough for Harry's hackles to rise.

"You're not really experiencing it, as the mate," Draco explained.

"Experiencing what? Look, I know this is probably really hard for you; you probably thought you'd be mated to some high-society, pure-blood type, but if we're in this together, I want to be informed." Harry thought it was fair to at least get full-disclosure. This was his life they were so blithely discussing.

With a nod, Draco said, "There are a lot of..." Draco coughed and looked away from Harry. "Feelings. Physical and mental. It's hard to control, sometimes."

"What sort of feelings?" Harry asked, though he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know.

"Er, possessiveness, hunger, dizziness, jealousy, aches and pains... desires."

At the strange litany of symptoms, Harry's eyes grew wide. "Hunger? Like, certain foods?" That was something he could actually manage.

"Not that kind of hunger," Draco said in a low voice, now looking at his knees.

"Oh. Um, then what about the other stuff? Is there anything I can do to help with any of that?"

With a growl, Draco said, "You could stop prancing about like you're in heat, letting people look at you and touch you all the time!"

Harry almost retorted with some ugly words, but then he just snorted. "That would be the possessiveness, I'm assuming?"

Draco hung his head, shaking it morosely. "All the fucking time."

"Well, I'll try to keep the prancing to a minimum," Harry quipped.

Without warning, Draco turned and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, slamming him onto the bed, facedown, and sitting on his arse.

"You think this is a fucking joke, Potter? You think you can just play along until something better comes along? It's not like that." Draco was caging Harry with his body, pinning him to the bed and hissing in his ear.

There was only a brief struggle until Draco grabbed Harry's wrists and put enough weight on them to make Harry go limp in defence.

"You let me mark you, and that's it. You and me, forever. But if you think this is just a game, if you plan on just leaving me to get sick after I claim you, I'll fucking kill you now and save us both the trouble."

After a moment of silence, Harry said, "How do you feel after I get hurt, Malfoy?"

Draco seemed to catch the implication...that since Harry's pain hurt Draco, killing Harry wasn't the smartest idea. He relaxed his hold but didn't move off of Harry.

"It's not a joke, not a game, okay? I just... I don't know how to handle this, all right? It's a lot, all of a sudden. So if I make light of it, it's only because I'm scared shitless."

"That's quite an admission from the great Harry Potter." Draco stretched out above him, still holding Harry's arms, so that his chest was flush against Harry's back... and pretty much everything else was flush, too, which made Harry more than a little uncomfortable.

"I never minded being scared as long as I could do something about it."

"So what do you plan to do, little mate?" Draco's lips were almost touching Harry's ear, and Harry couldn't figure out why he didn't move away.

"Get it right."

"That's your master plan?"

Harry shrugged, regretting it when the movement caused friction between them. His physical reaction was completely understandable, he told himself. It was half-fear and half from having a male body press down on him for the first time in his life. Still, he would do anything for Draco to not notice.

"You have a lot of symptoms. That's a lot of things to try to solve. So we'll work on the issues like any couple would. We just have to trust each other and stop fighting."

"Something we haven't managed to do once in seven years."

"If anything, I'm learning there's definitely a first time for anything."

It was a good talk; it would have been better if they'd been face-to-face, but progress had been made.

"I have to claim you," Draco said, sounding breathless.

Every point of contact between Harry and Draco...and there were a lot at the moment...suddenly felt ten times hotter. "Do you mean you have to, as part of the steps? Or do you mean... you really, really want to?" The way Draco had said it made it seem more like the latter. The idea that Draco wanted Harry was something Harry was still coming to terms with. It was possible he never would.

"Definitely both." Draco lifted up only long enough to haul Harry's shirt up around his shoulders before settling back down, his legs on either side of Harry's. When he leaned onto Harry again, the rough slide of cloth against his over-stimulated nerve endings revealed that Draco hadn't removed any of his own clothing.

"How does the claiming work?" Harry wriggled beneath Draco, not liking the lack of power he had. It was much more acute than it had been during their talk.

In answer, Draco wormed his hand beneath Harry, cupping his crotch. They both let out groans, and Harry's struggle became more intense.

"What are you doing? There's nothing claim-like about this!" But any attempt to escape only ground his groin harder against Draco's now squeezing hand.

"Oh, this is all about claiming, little mate." The words were a breath against Harry's ear, warm and promising.

Draco's hand began to move, stroking Harry through his trousers, tracing the outline of his now fully erect cock, lightly pinching the crown.

Though one of Harry's hands was now free, he saw no need to use it for anything other than clenching the scratchy bed sheet. Draco's hand, even through his clothing, was hot and seemed to know exactly how Harry liked it. He even wondered if there was a similar connection between them, relating to pleasure instead of pain. Could Draco feel that Harry felt good? He wanted to ask, he really did. He meant to.

But Draco's movements became rougher, and then Draco settled more firmly against Harry's arse, and the plain heaviness of Draco's arousal sent renewed surges to his own cock.

"Help me out, little mate. Move a little."

Feeling almost compelled, Harry did as he was told. He began rocking into Draco's hand, first only with his hips, but soon enough with his entire body. His shoes dug into the bed for leverage as he rutted. There was something primal, basic and natural about what was happening; the sounds, the smells, the sight of Draco's hand gripping Harry's wrist reactively to every noise Harry made...

All that and the fact that Harry got to wank so very seldom in a crowded dorm...not to mention the fact that the last time he'd done anything with another person, it had been Ginny and all kinds of disastrous...brought Harry to the edge more quickly than he might have liked.

"That's it, Harry, let go. Come for me, let me claim you. You're mine, just let it all go."

Harry cried out weakly, his lungs compressed by the weight atop him, and came... and came... and came.

His orgasm...the longest ever, damn Draco...was rudely interrupted by teeth clamping into the skin over his shoulder blade. Harry could feel the individual perforation of teeth, even as he shouted and tried to get away any way he could. But Draco held him down, even though Harry could swear he was bleeding.

Finally, Draco let up...on the bite, anyway. The rest of him, including his erection, was still pinning Harry down.

"Thanks for the warning, fucker," Harry mumbled, still floating on endorphins. The pain acted as a strange counterpoint to the pleasure of his climax, and the dual throbbing in his back and his balls made him a little dizzy.

"Were you confused by, 'I have to claim you'?" Draco asked, and his chest pressed against Harry's back again, stinging a little when it touched the bite mark.

Harry didn't know what to do; Draco was nuzzling him. Was that veela behaviour? Draco behaviour? After-sex behaviour? All three?

"That's it, then?" Harry asked, speaking into the sheets.

To his surprise, Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's wound before rising up and sitting back on the bed. "That's it. You're mine."

Flushing as he remembered all the similar things Draco had said just before he'd come, Harry managed to finagle himself into a sitting position. He found he couldn't look at Draco. There was an uncomfortable slickness in his pants, making him wince.

"I should get back to my dorm. Class is starting soon, and I have to have a shower."

Everything seemed to hit Harry at once. He was mated. Draco was like... his husband. Or wife. At the very least, his boyfriend. Draco was his boyfriend; they were together. Forever. How was he going to explain this? Would they be public about their relationship? Would they do stuff like kiss and go on dates? Live together? Go to the Burrow for Christmas together?

It was hard to breathe. Very hard. Definitely harder than normal, because normally it wasn't very hard to breathe at all, in fact, it was rather an instinct. Not something that could be designated as simple or difficult because it just was, until it wasn't, but that would mean he was dead, so if breathing didn't get easier and soon, he'd definitely die.

"I could clean you up," Draco said suggestively, beginning to close the space between them in that leonine way of his.

With a start, Harry leapt off the hospital bed, arranging his clothing properly and then fussing until they were back to messy again.

"No, I really have to go," he said quickly, backing away. "Er, great claiming, and thanks for the... you know. I'll see you around!"

Draco slid off the bed and approached Harry, a determined look on his face. Harry thought that running might worsen the whole breathing snafu, so he let Draco take hold of his jaw, tilting his head slightly up so their eyes met.

"Be good, little mate. And don't let anyone see my mark just yet. I'll see you at lunch."

That was sort of a date, wasn't it? Harry inhaled sharply, but it seemed to bring no oxygen to his lungs: just full, empty air.

"See you at lunch," he repeated, his eyes on the door. Draco let him go, and Harry decided that running was the best option, even if it did kill him.

*

Harry'd managed to avoid Hermione and Ron the entire morning, even though he shared Transfiguration with both of them. But once the class let out, they were on him like...very faithful and loyal...terriers.

"Where were you this morning, mate? I woke up and you were gone, earlier than I even knew you were capable of." Through Ron's teasing voice, Harry heard concern, which made his stomach twist up.

"I went to check on Malfoy." The name tasted all wrong in his mouth now. There was absolutely no way he'd be able to keep this secret. There were secrets...like aching scars and dreams and wanted criminal godfathers and Horcruxes...and there were secrets, like pretty much marrying your worst enemy who happened to be a veela.

"How was he?" Hermione asked. She looked anxious; Harry recalled that she'd seen Draco faint, and that despite her feelings toward him, Harry knew she would have been horrified.

"Much better. Much, much better."

"What was wrong with him, anyway?" Ron asked.

Harry was walking a little more quickly than usual. He wanted to get to Herbology early; he'd hoped to get a moment to himself to sort out his tumultuous thoughts, but it seemed as though that wouldn't happen. Harry was grateful for his friends, but his mind was too messy to share just yet. He knew he'd have to tell them. Soon enough, everyone would know, and he wanted them to know first.

"Just, you know, the fumes, and he hadn't eaten in a while..."

Ron nodded easily but Hermione gave Harry a close look. He fought the urge to spill everything under her merciless gaze, but he simply smiled at her, forcing her to smile back.

Once in the designated greenhouse...early, but not by much...Harry listened without devotion as Hermione and Ron bickered good-naturedly over Ron's pop quiz result. Professor Sprout had been good about giving the eighth years time to adapt to being in school again...or being in school under a non-maniacal regime...but Ron's big, fat T caused Hermione to froth at the mouth.

Ron took it in stride, as he did everything these days, grinning at Harry when Hermione wasn't looking, rolling his eyes when she caught him.

Such simple problems, Harry thought with a hint of wistfulness. Their affection was so free and easy, not bogged down with sarcasm or hidden beneath a violent history.

Would he and Draco ever be able to get to that place? Was Harry hoping for something that simply couldn't exist? He wanted to be with someone...his heart obviously wasn't very picky...but had he destroyed any chance at happiness by allowing it to be Draco?

Had he really had any choice to begin with? Did it even matter? What was done was done. Harry just had to prove himself adaptable yet again.

Resigned to make the most of the situation...or at least not completely crumple under indecision and regret...Harry felt better already.

Until, that was, Draco walked into the greenhouse. With savage insouciance, Draco leaned against the glass wall and glared at anyone who cared to look. Even Harry found himself on the receiving end of a rather nasty stare. Remembering his decision, Harry smiled at Draco. It was hard to look at him without blushing. Draco had done things to him that no other person had. With Ginny, there'd been tender moments and less intense exchanges of pleasure, but with Draco, everything had hurt and set him on fire.

All the events from earlier that morning were written clearly in Draco's eyes. Harry felt naked, exposed. Could everyone tell what had happened? Did they know that he gave himself over to Draco Malfoy?

The way Draco looked at him, Harry wondered how anyone could not know. Especially Hermione, who was glancing between them with a furrowed brow. Oh, great, Harry though, mentally snarling at Draco. Now you got her thinking!

Professor Sprout entered a few moments later, and the class began. The lessons seemed a little tame compared to the last time Harry'd been in her class, consisting mostly of written assignments and reading. Harry used the time not to read or prod at his rather sad-looking plant, but to consider how to break the information to Hermione and Ron.

Ron had taken the news of Harry's sexuality surprisingly well. Maybe this would fall under the same category? The permanence of it was what would cause the most problems, Harry knew. If it had been just a fling, Ron might be more amenable to Harry sowing his wild oats. But there was more to it than that, and Harry knew he couldn't blow it off as such.

He wasn't used to dealing with things like this on his own; the strain was getting to him already and it had only happened that morning!

"Harry," Ron whispered. "You all right? You look a little out of it."

Ron put his hand on Harry's back in a sympathetic gesture. His palm came down over the bite Draco had made on his shoulder blade, but instead of pain, an intense wave of pleasure crashed over Harry, starting at the claim mark and flowing all the way down to his toes. Harry bit a moan back, but only just. The idea that Ron had made him feeling in any way sexual made Harry extremely uncomfortable.

Laughing, Harry leaned forward to escape the touch. Ron's fingertips brushed over it as he took his hand back, and Harry couldn't contain a small whimper.

A low, rumbling noise intruded on Harry's embarrassment, and he looked up, shocked to see every eye in the greenhouse not on him, but on Draco.

Who was growling.

With his lips drawn back and his eyes narrowed, Draco made a noise like no human should make. Even Sprout looked taken aback. Draco noticed none of this; he only had eyes for Harry.

"Malfoy," said Hermione, brave as ever. "Are you all right?"

Instead of answering, Draco pushed away from the wall and walked around the centre tables, approaching Harry. Ron stepped between them, glaring at Draco.

The growling increased in volume until Harry stepped forward. Aware that all eyes were on him...and all ears straining to hear what he was about to say...Harry stepped around Ron, ignoring his cry of disbelief.

"Draco, go for a walk, okay? Just go for a walk until you feel better and I'll talk to you later."

Rather than calming Draco, the words seemed to light something within him. There was a pulsing aura of white all around him, and when Harry looked around, he suddenly realised he was the only one seeing Draco's features change. Which was a good thing, because imposed over his face, like a projector movie gone wrong, was the flickering visage of a bird, a sharp beak opening threateningly. Glancing down, Harry could see that Draco's fingernails had curved into talons, and he gulped. Whatever Draco was upset at, Harry wasn't sure he could manage on his own.

Taking a step closer, Harry lowered his voice and tried again. "Draco. Calm down."

And like a switch had been flipped, Draco did. The strange dual likeness faded until he looked himself again. Angry...furious, even...but himself at least.

"Potter," he ground out. "We need to talk."

"Mr. Malfoy, is there a problem?" Sprout called.

Harry looked over at her and the rest of the class. They were all staring at Draco, but their faces weren't mirrors of horror or discovery. They simply looked entertained.

"I need to talk to Potter," Draco said, still staring at Harry.

"It can wait until after class," she said sternly. "Now, back to your station."

"Draco..." Harry said. "Not here, please."

After a long moment, Draco nodded. But he didn't return to his place...he left the room in angry strides, slamming the glass door hard enough that there was a collective gasp followed by a sigh of relief when it didn't shatter.

"Madame Sprout, Malfoy must not be feeling well. He was in the Hospital Wing all last night," Hermione said in a concerned tone that didn't stop her from shooting a look to Harry that said you will be explaining this.

Sprout looked placated and nodded. "I had heard that. Still, very rude." With a sigh, she went back to her instructions, and Harry went back to idly poking the plant.

It yielded no answers.