Author: indigo_kitti (me)
Summary: Harry is a Veela and so is Draco Malfoy, but they're not mates. Nope, nope... waaaaaait... (Total crack fic)
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and co. belong to JKR etc etc amen.
Harry had been feeling strange all summer. Strange as in the occasional blackout and a mind-numbingly painful feeling centering in his chest, strange as in an overwhelming urge to jump out a window if something didn’t happen soon, strange as in waking up crying every morning.
So really, it wasn’t strange that Harry was just the slightest bit grumpy the morning Ron and Hermione finally showed up to take him to Hogwarts.
“Harry!” they cried in unison, throwing themselves at their friend, “How are you?”
Harry winced when his friends’ arms wrapped around him but managed to not hex them. “What do you think?” he growled, shoving them off and stomping off towards the ministry provided vehicles waiting for them.
“Harry?” Hermione sounded hurt and worried.
“Harry?” Ron sounded worried and angry.
“Look, no offense but I’m really not in the mood right now, alright? I’ve had a bad summer,” Harry growled, throwing his trunk into the boot of the first car and climbing in, “it’s nothing personal – I’ve been feeling off lately.”
“Off? Off how, mate?” Ron asked, innocently sliding into the car beside Harry.
Harry felt anger rise in him, blood rushing t his head and clouding his mind. Turning he slapped Ron as hard as he could across the face. “Never call me that again, for all you’re my best friend I will kill you.”
“Harry!” Hermione cried, throwing protective arms around Ron, “Don’t talk to people that way, it’s rude!”
Harry crossed his arms petulantly, reminding his friends of Draco Malfoy.
“Harry,” Ron said, “when did you start to act this way?”
“Why?” Harry’s defenses were up and every word Ron said now got on his nerves.
“Oh, well everybody knows wizards get their inheritance from their parents on their sixteenth birthday Harry,” Ron answered with a roll of his eyes, “that must be why you’re so defensive – and so pretty.”
Hermione, aghast that she hadn’t known this little tidbit of knowledge was frantically searching her book bag for something that would enlighten both her and Harry on the subject.
“Oh Ron,” Ginny said from across the front seat of the car where she was sitting with Tonks, “you know that’s not true – only people with special powers get an inheritance on their sixteenth birthday.”
Hermione continued to search.
“Yes,” Tonks said, weaving through traffic, “and even then they’re usually part magical creature or something – do you think you could be one Harry? It would certainly explain why Hagrid likes you so much.”
Ron and Ginny nodded solemnly, Hermione searched.
“I don’t know,” Harry said, calming down a bit, “weren’t my parent’s human?”
“Well yes, but you never know,” Tonks decided.
The Golden Trio plus Ginny reached King’s Cross Station just in time to catch the Hogwart’s Express.
“Bye!” the two Weaselys and Hermione called to Tonks, waving out the window.
Harry sat and sulked.
“Harry,” Hermione said, “we’re all Prefects so we need to head to the Prefect’s Carriage for the annual meeting – stay here and don’t kill anybody.”
Harry nodded miserably and sulked some more.
Five minutes after his friends left Harry had a revelation, he was bored. Standing up and flinging the door to their compartment open Harry stomped into the hall that ran the entire length of the train and trudged towards the back, knowing his friends were all currently at the front.
“Pansy, get the bloody hell of my arm!” someone yelled. Harry turned towards the compartment the yell had come from and gave a condescending sniff in its direction.
The odor that hit him when he did was breath taking. Whereas normal people smelled of soap and toothpaste (if you were lucky) this person smelled like rosemary and mint, citrus and pepper. Of course, that could have been their shampoo.
Harry all but ran to the door of the compartment and flung it open. The sight that met his eyes enraged him.
In a fit of pique Harry shot forward and wrenched Pansy Parkinson off of Draco Malfoy. They both wore dazed expressions as the looked at him and, after a moment, Harry fled the compartment almost as quickly as he’d entered.
Shit, he thought, what was that?
“Harry my boy,” Dumbledore said, patting the bristling teenager on the shoulder, “it appears you are part Veela.”
“What? How the fuck could that happen?” Harry asked, shaking Dumbledore’s cloying hand off.
“Well Harry, it appears your mother’s great grandmother, once removed, was a squib Veela.”
“Okay, 1) how do you have a great grandmother ‘removed’ and 2) how can you be a squib Veela?”
“Don’t scoff Harry,” Dumbledore cautioned, “it simply means that your grandfather divorced your grandmother after she married into the family and that she was born an ugly Veela with little or no charm.”
Harry nodded, it made sense in a very Dumbledore way.
“So,” he said, “why did I attack Malfoy and Parkinson again?”
“The only thing I can think of is your mating instinct, Harry.” Dumbledore sat down at his desk and drew out a container of lemon drops. “I believe Miss Parkinson is your life long mate, which is why I’ve invited her to join us.”
Harry tensed. Life long? He was going to be stuck with Pansy Parkinson for the rest of his life? Well, that sucked.
“Don’t you think I’m a little young to be making such a huge decision?” Harry asked plaintively, “After all, Parkinson and I are only sixteen and…”
Harry trailed off as Dumbledore reached across his desk and began to stroke Harry’s cheek.
“Well Harry, my boy,” the ancient wizard all but purred, “if you ever want someone older and more experienced…”
Harry ran from the office, bowling over a confused Pansy Parkinson on the way out.
“Harry,” Ron said, later that afternoon, “you can’t hide under your bed forever. Eventually you’re going to have to come out and bang Pansy Parkinson.”
“No!” Harry shouted, “I won’t do it! I’m tired and hungry and I want my mate!” Harry clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what he’d said – if there was anything he didn’t want it was Pansy Parkinson.
“Look Harry, I know she’s ugly and stupid but think about it! According to rumors she’s slept with Draco Malfoy loads of times, she’s got to be good!” Ron called.
Harry felt that same anger rising in him again and he burst out from under the bed. “No one,” he growled, grabbing his best friend by the collar, “sleeps with my mate.”
Ron nodded fearfully and, a moment later, Harry let go and dove back under the bed.
“Harry,” Hermione called an hour later, “I’ve just got back from reading all eighteen books about Veela in the school library and they all point to the same thing, Pansy Parkinson is your mate! I talked to Ron and he told me about what happened earlier, it’s obvious so accept it!”
“No! I want my mate!” Harry called from his dusty hideaway, “No one else will do!”
Hermione sighed and got to her knees, bending to meet Harry’s gaze.
“Harry,” she said gently, “if I go get her will you be happy? If you see her in person will you understand?”
Harry shook his head and said, “I’ll come out, we can go talk to her together.”
As it turned out, Dumbledore had informed the hormonally charged teenager of her destiny shortly after Harry had left his office.
“Parkinson,” he said, approaching her in the library using Hermione as a shield, “we need to talk.”
She turned and nodded brightly, setting her books aside and patting the chair beside her invitingly.
“Certainly, darling,” she said, “why don’t you come and make yourself comfortable?”
Harry shuddered at the tone in her voice and sat. “Right, well let me say this fast –”
Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth and, smiling, turned to Pansy. “Pansy,” she said, “why don’t you give Harry a kiss?”
Pansy, not being the brightest light out there merely shrugged and, once Hermione’s hand was speedily removed, leaned in to kiss him.
As soon as her lips met his he jumped up and shoved her away, wiping his mouth furiously.
“Ugh!” he cried, “Disgusting!”
“I told them, I told them! But did the believe me? No, they thought I was in denial!” Harry ranted, throwing his arms about, “I fucking hate you all!”
And with that, Harry stomped out of the library.
Harry was storming around the castle, all-righteous fury and indignation, when he caught The Scent again. It clung to his nostrils and pulled him towards a half-open classroom door. Stepping in his breath caught in his throat at the sight that lay before him.
Draco Malfoy, shirtless, with white wings sprouting from his back.
“Harry,” Malfoy cooed, turning to face him, “Harry my love, I’ve been waiting for this moment since you rescued my from that bitch Parkinson on the train.”
Harry was at a loss for words, but Draco didn’t seem to need any. Smiling shyly he slowly eased himself into Harry’s arms and leaned up, kissing him softly.
Things got sweatier from there.
Harry’s eyes opened and he gasped in horror when he saw that somehow all of his dorm mates had climbed onto his bed without him noticing.
Even more horrifying, they were all jacking off and calling his name.
“Oh gross,” he said, shoving his way out of the sweaty pile, “that’s just wrong.”
He wouldn’t be able to meet their eyes for at least a week after this, then again they probably wouldn’t show their faces around him for a much longer time.
Walking into the communal bathroom and throwing as many locking charms as he knew on the door Harry began to puzzle out his own dream.
Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy with wings, Draco Malfoy naked and calling out his name.
If he didn’t know better he’d say Draco Malfoy was his mate.
Breakfast was an interesting ordeal that morning. All of Harry’s dorm mates, including Ron, were sitting at the opposite end of the table and blushing furiously while the female contingent of the Gryffindor sixth and fifth years were draping themselves all over him and attempting to distract him from his porridge. To top off his miserable morning, owls kept dropping love letters into his food.
The high point of his morning was when he looked at the Slytherin table and his eyes met those of Draco Malfoy for a brief, but lovely second.
He sighed and the Gryffindors around him swooned.
Harry decided that he was glad Ron had forgone Potions and decided to take up Muggle Studies this year instead. It meant he wouldn’t have an awkward two hours sitting next to Ron ad trying not to think of how he’d woken up this morning.
Of course, it also meant that he was stuck with both Snape and Malfoy, but Malfoy wasn’t looking all that bad now.
“Potter,” Snape said when class began, “you shall be working with Mr. Malfoy.”
“What? Do I have to?” Harry asked, knowing the answer already.
“Well…” Snape paused and looked at Harry consideringly, shocking the teenager. After a moment Snape leaned in so close Harry could feel his breath against his face and said, “I’m sure we could work out an… arrangement.” Snape stroked his arm.
“Are you… propositioning me?” Harry cried out, alarmed, “No! Hell no!”
“Then,” Snape straightened, “it looks like you’ll be working with Mr. Malfoy.”
Harry groaned and dragged his stuff over to his newly assigned partner.
“What was Snape thinking?” Draco asked as they worked on the potion they’d been assigned, “He knows Veela don’t sleep with anyone but their mates!”
Harry turned to face him, somewhat shocked. “Huh?”
“I hope that doesn’t happen to me,” Draco continued, not bother to answer Harry’s ‘huh’, “I’d sue.”
“You – you’re a Veela too?” Harry exclaimed.
“Of course,” said Draco, “have you found your mate yet?”
“I hope my mate is someone good looking. I suppose when I find them it won’t matter to me, but I’d like that better all the same. Can you imagine being mated to someone like Pansy Parkinson? I think I’d die!”
Harry shuddered and nodded his agreement.
“Of course part of me has always been afraid I’d be mated to another Veela who already had a mate they loved, wouldn’t that be horrible? I can hardly stand to think about it! Did you find your mate yet?”
Harry shook his head. “No… at least I don’t think so.”
Draco nodded and smiled, “Good.”
“Hermione, when’s Draco Malfoy’s birthday?” Harry asked her later that day. His hormones had finally calmed down and people had stopped throwing themselves at his feet. Ron had even come within twenty feet of him to yell his need for Hermione’s company.
“September the third,” she said, “why?”
“That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” she said, “why?”
“Thanks Hermione,” he turned and trotted off.
The next day Harry woke from another wet dream – starring Draco Malfoy and himself, of course – kicked his masturbating housemates off of his bed and left to take a shower.
He was excited. If Draco’s my mate I’ll know today, he thought eagerly, hopping out of the shower and throwing his uniform on.
When he reached the Great Hall Draco was nowhere to be seen.
It’s alright, he told himself, he’ll be in potions today.
But he wasn’t. And he wasn’t in Care of Magical Creatures or Defense Against the Dark Arts either. He also didn’t show up for lunch or dinner.
By the end of the day Harry was starting to think that something was wrong. Was Draco avoiding him?
But he’s my mate, the Veela part of him whined, why would he avoid me?
The other, more sensible part of him continued to insist that he didn’t know if Draco was his mate or not, Draco would have to tell him.
Only Draco wasn’t there.
Harry Potter was wandering the halls of Hogwarts – for real this time, not in a dream. His nose sniffed the air as he searched for the man – teenager really, they were only sixteen – he was certain was his mate.
“What are you doing here?”
Harry spun around, eager to see who’d snuck up behind him. He stopped and pouted when he saw it was only Filch.
“Mr. Potter,” he hissed, eyes narrowed, “why don’t you can and have a threesome with me and Mrs. Norris.”
“What! Are you insane?!”
“Yes,” Filch said, “how did you know?”
Harry backed away, careful not to make any sudden movements.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Harry saw Draco again and by that time he was one hundred percent certain that the blonde boy was his mate.
Draco was sulking at the… Harry did a double take, the Gryffindor table? That was surprising, maybe Draco was waiting for him.
His heart sped up and he was sure he was blushing.
“Hello,” Harry said, sitting down across from the other Veela, “what are you doing here?”
“Sulking,” Draco said miserably, “I have the worst mate in the entire wizarding world.”
Harry felt like he was about to cry, Draco thought he was the worst mate in the world? “You – you do?” he stuttered around the uncomfortable lump in his throat.
“I do. Dumbledore says that my mate is… Granger of all people. I aw you and her talking yesterday and I felt this overwhelming urge of jealousy – can you imagine? Granger!” Draco began to bang his head on the table.
“Hermione’s your mate!” Harry didn’t know whether to feel angry, hurt, betrayed or jealous.
“And even worse, she’s making me eat all my meals with her. Honestly, aren’t I supposed to love my mate? Or at least be able to stand being around them?” Draco frowned and shook his head. “This isn’t fair – what about you? Found your mate yet?”
Harry met Draco’s eyes and was pleased to see they looked rather hopeful. Of course, that could mean that he was being as perverse as always and hoped Harry was mated to someone as unsuitable for him as Hermione was to Draco.
And bugger all if he wasn’t right.
“Dumbledore says my mate is Pansy Parkinson,” Harry shuddered and Draco laughed, “he thinks that because of how jealous I got when she was clinging all over you on the train.” Harry’s hands clenched at the though, Pansy Parkinson clinging all over his mate.
Harry stopped and ran over his last sentence in his mind again.
“Umm… but Dumbledore’s been wrong before…”
“Yes,” Draco agreed, “all the time…”
“And we’d probably have a better idea of who are mates then he would…”
“Oh, of course!” Draco was eyeing him from across the table now.
“So…” Harry said.
Draco launched himself across the Gryffindor table and latched his lips onto Harry’s.