Disclaimer: JK Rowling retains the ownership of all characters and settings borrowed from the Harry Potter series of books.

Summary: Going on a date with a Veela is not to be taken lightly. The Veelas claim to have control over who they choose to mate with and for the most part, it's true, but then there's also the possibility they can fall for someone without realising it and well — that's all kinds of fucked up.

No matter how bad things are, Potter can always make things worse

"It's just one dinner."

Potter is practically begging Draco and it's absolutely bizarre.

"You can't possibly be serious," Draco spits out as he makes his way out of the Ministry lifts and tries to find the closest Apparition point. He's just only stopped by because the Ministry still requires him for a quarterly check-in. The bloody war has been over for years, so much so, that the ones that were involved in it are all married and having babies. Still, they haven't forgotten the Death Eaters who didn't get to go to Azkaban.

In the beginning it was okay. Draco was required to stop by every week and meet with his Ministry appointed official. He had to talk about his whereabouts and where he'd been that week. Eventually, weekly check-ins became monthly check-ins, and now, ten years later, it was quarterly.

Draco has been nothing but an exemplary member of society. When he'd come into his Veela heritage, he'd expected some difficulties but things had been smooth. He's lucky enough to have an Officer assigned to him who is ethical, just, and objective.

"It's too dangerous," Draco says and Apparates home.

0-0-0-0

Of course, bloody Potter knows where Draco lives.

"Why is it dangerous?"

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco asks, and he's thoroughly annoyed.

Going on a date with a Veela is not to be taken lightly. The Veelas claim to have control over who they choose to mate with and for the most part, it's true, but then there's also the possibility they can fall for someone without realising it and well — that's all kinds of fucked up. Draco doesn't go on dates because he doesn't want to end up liking someone that might change his mind. If he chooses a mate, it's for life. If that person doesn't want him back, then it's just bad luck for him.

Potter, of course, doesn't understand this.

"I saw you last week...at the show..." Potter says, sounding nervous.

"What show?" Draco snaps; he doesn't have time for this. Of course, he knows what show Potter's talking about. It's the only show Draco does—once a year.

"Parkinson's Runway Design," Potter replies simply. He's looking at Draco's face intently, as if he's trying to read Draco's thoughts.

After the war, Pansy went into business for herself. At first, she started designing robes for Pureblood families that were having a difficult time doing business with wizarding merchants. She'd become so popular in the wizarding world for her unique eye that the Ministry ordered her to do business with everyone. Which was, of course, a joke because she was open for business with everyone but it was their kind who had rejected her in the first place.

Five years after her big break (which was Ministry appointed), she started to design robes for Veelas. Draco was her favourite model but he refused to parade himself around on stage for the wizarding world to watch. Of course, that was when she went and spoke to her Parole Officer, who was also Draco's Officer about how she was doing a charity show and needed a volunteer. The Officer was all too happy to suggest Draco for the job.

Since then, once a year, Draco does the one thing he never wanted to do. At least, it's for charity and all the robes are donated to unprivileged wizards and all monetary proceeds donated for school books for wizarding children across the world.

Therefore, Draco is perfectly aware what show Potter is talking about. He didn't know that Potter had been there.

0-0-0-0

"So now you wish to what—have dinner with me?" Draco scowls as he opens the door to his flat and Potter walks in after him. After taking his coat off, Draco turns around and crosses his arms, glaring at Potter.

His glowering seems to have no effect on Potter who runs a hand through his hair and then blinks a few times. "It's not just because of the show..." he says and looks around the flat before his gaze returns to Draco's face again and he smiles. "I've been meaning to ask you out—"

"Just stop right there, Potter. I don't have time—"

"Wait. Just hear me out, okay?"

Usually when a Veela says no, they don't have to repeat themselves; most people accept their response the first time and move on. Needless to say, Potter is not most people.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately," Potter says, and closes the door to Draco's flat behind him. Draco frowns again because he most certainly did not invite Potter in. "I knew of your Veela inheritance, I mean I heard about it a while ago, but I just never saw— and then when I did— it's all I think about."

"I'm not going to have sex with you just because you like my wings," Draco says, dryly. If that is what Potter is trying to get at, he's wasting his breath. Draco hasn't had sex with a wizard, ever, because of what might happen if he fell for them. He keeps his affairs casuals, and with Muggles only. Although, there was that one squib he went out with a few times but that man just ended up being far too possessive and jealous of Draco for his comfort.

"That's not—that's not what I'm suggesting. I mean, it'd be nice, but it's not what I came here for."

"Then what is it?" Draco spits out. He's tired and he's hungry. All he wanted to do today was go to the Ministry, do his bloody check-in, and then return home and vegetate. Work has been too busy lately and Draco's had to go into the shop almost every day and sometimes even on Sundays. He truly is too exhausted and feeling far too old for this charade.

"Can I see them?" Potter whispers the word and there's something in the way he says it that it makes Draco want to say yes. It makes Draco want to rip his shirt off and show off to Potter. Maybe because it's not a command, or a lustful request other men in the past have made. It's an honest plea. It's a request as if Draco were air and Potter simply needed to breathe him in.

If he were at the show then surely Potter had seen the theatrics. Draco walking on the runway in a navy blue button down shirt and then the fabric in the back stretching as he protruded his wings. The audience had oohed and aahed (as always), before the thundering applause began. Pansy kept the spells she used for her Veela customers a closely guarded secret; she knows a way to make the fabric stretch without ruining the cut of the design.

"Please?" Potter adds when a minute's gone past and Draco hasn't moved or replied.

The whimpering tone shoots a surge of electricity inside Draco and it goes straight to Draco's cock. The bloody thing twitches and all Draco can do now is imagine Potter on his hands and knees, begging for Draco to do more than just show him his wings. He shifts on his feet, uncomfortable, and slightly aroused. He shoots another glare at Potter for good measure and decides to just fuck it, before he removes his Muggle t-shirt and turns his back to Potter.

The sight of skin parting and wings appearing from beneath is not a pretty sight. It's also outlandishly painful. Since it's been a few years for Draco, he's used to the pain, clenching his fists he also makes it a point to remember that his wings aren't made for entertaining others. Other people that aren't Potter, apparently.

Finally, his wings are out in the open and he feels them as his extended limbs. He can feel the heat of Potter's body just mere inches away. His feathers twitch to want to touch Potter's skin. As he turns around to face Potter, his wings to gently brush against Potter's cheek for a brief moment and another surge of electric shock goes through Draco. It's obvious Potter needs to leave, right this second.

When Draco looks at Potter, Potter is touching his face—at the spot where the feathers brushed him, no doubt. Draco wills for his right wing to curve slightly as he picks off a feather with one hand. He offers it to Potter.

Potter's eyes widen and Draco has half a mind to take the feather back, but he doesn't. There's a moment of hesitation before Potter grabs for the feather and it's out of Draco's hand before he realises it. "I can keep this?" he asks.

Draco nods once. Unable to trust his voice. He has no idea what is going on here and he doesn't wish to question it.

"Can I still take you to dinner?" Potter asks.

"Must you?"

Potter smiles triumphantly. Maybe Draco isn't so great at hiding the fact that his resolve his melting. Or maybe Potter just relies on luck all the bloody time. "As a thank you," he says, "for this," pointing at the feather which he places on his chest, just above his heart.

Draco rolls his eyes. "Just once," he says.

"Brilliant," Potter says, beaming. "I'll owl you my address—"

"Why?"

"I'm cooking you dinner," Potter says so matter-of-factly as if Draco hadn't been there for the conversation at all. When did he mention he was going to cook? Draco surely wasn't there for that conversation.

Draco isn't sure whether this is a good idea. He was okay with them going to a restaurant and simply having some food but for Potter to cook? Isn't that a bit of a bigger deal? On the other hand, if they are at Potter's home, it would be easier for Draco to leave at a moment's notice. He won't have to make any excuses, he can just make an exit without making a scene.

As Draco wonders all the excuses he could come up with to leave the date before it even begins, he hears Potter say, "So I'll see you tomorrow." And then he's out the door, closing it behind him, leaving Draco utterly confused.

0-0-0-0

Dinner at Potter's place isn't awful. Draco had to work at the shop in the morning, trying to convince his patrons that no, he wasn't using his Veela charm for them to buy a potion and that they really, actually, needed it. There's nothing worse than having a customer diagnosed with paranoia—convinced the potion is going to kill him.

If anything, Draco is glad for a change in his usual routine.

When Draco arrives at the address Potter provided, he notices right away how exhausted Potter looks. He's said he worked a double shift at the DMLE because one of the other teams was short an Auror. Draco has half a mind to say they could have cancelled but then he doesn't want to give the impression he's not having a good time. Which he is.

Potter's place is smaller than Draco had imagined. Still, there are pictures everywhere, and the sitting room feels cosy with dark coloured walls and modern furniture. He follows Potter into the kitchen where the food is already ready and displayed over the small dining table. A bottle of wine is opened and Potter seems to have already finished his first glass. Draco smiles to himself at the idea that Potter's nervous.

Potter's culinary skills are incredible. He's prepared Italian, unsure of what Draco would have liked, has evidently cooked for the entire Weasley clan.

"I thought you were betrothed to a Weasley," Draco says, as he takes a bite of his tiramisu which is divine. The sweet dark rum goes down Draco's throat so smoothly, he isn't sure if it was pure liquid. It makes his insides happy and as he finished the last of it off his spoon, he opens his eyes he hadn't realised he'd closed.

Potter is staring at him, his own spoon hanging halfway in the air from the plate to his mouth. "What?" he clears his throat and asks.

"I wasn't aware you weren't single," Draco says, ignoring Potter's reaction, and the satisfaction it gives him. He has no idea what "Veela charm" is, since it's never been used on him, and if he's exuding it and Potter's falling prey to it—he has no idea how he can make it stop. He's only eating his food.

"Oh, right. No, we didn't work out. It was over a long time ago. I try to stay out of the papers if I can."

"And you've fancied no one else after?" Draco asks. He's simply making polite conversation since he has no idea what he's supposed to talk about. Part of him is curious about discussing Potter's love life, the other part doesn't know why he cares.

Potter spoke earlier of his work as an Auror, but murder mysteries and chasing after criminals aren't Draco's forte. Additionally, his own work can seem tedious to others. He cares about his brewing processes, of course, but not everyone cares to know the difference between a gurdyroot, hellebore, and dirigible plum.

Potter's cheeks redden at the question and Draco raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I've seen people here and there but no one I cared about. I met another Veela a while back, but..." Potter hesitates and immediately starts to drain his water glass.

"It isn't unusual for people to fancy a Veela when they come across one. I won't be offended."

"It's not that—I just wasn't—it's not what I wanted to talk about," Potter says.

"Then what did you want to talk about?"

Potter shrugs. "Nothing. I don't know. Anything but me. I'm not very interesting."

"If you say so," Draco says. If he didn't find Potter interesting, he wouldn't have stayed this long, but he doesn't want to tell Potter this. "What if I ask you questions and you let me decide if it's interesting or not?"

Potter shrugs again. "Okay, sure."

"Why didn't it work out with this other Veela?" Draco asks, although he isn't sure if he actually wants to know. Veelas make the decision of who they want their partner to be, and if that one had decided he wanted it to be Potter, and if Potter rejected him...well Draco doesn't want to think about that.

"He wanted multiple partners and it's just not something I prefer... I'd more of a one man...man."

Draco nods in acknowledgement. Now, it's his turn to sip on the wine so he doesn't have to say something right away. Why did he ask? Either of the answers weren't going to satisfactory to him. He doesn't want to pry and sound like a jealous lover. It's not like he wants to be with Potter, either. He doesn't. Right?

"I should go," Draco declares as he stands up from his chair in Potter's small dining room and steps back.

"So soon?" Potter asks, looking unhappy. Maybe there's a hint of disappointment there, but Draco doesn't want to read too much into it. He has no idea what Potter's intentions are. Maybe he has a habit of courting Veelas until he's done with them for one reason or another.

"Thank you for dinner." Draco turns to leave the dining room and Potter follows him to the sitting room. There's a stack of books on the coffee table Draco hadn't noticed when he'd first arrived, but now he can see it. The feather from his wing that he'd given to Potter the day before his there. He quickly looks away since he doesn't want to Potter to know he's seen it.

"Can I see you again?" Potter asks hastily as they wait by the Floo and Potter holds a small container with Floo powder, not yet motioning it towards Draco.

"What's the point?" Draco asks. "I'm not going to show you my wings again."

Potter frowns slightly. Maybe Draco's hit the mark with his comment. If he's only interested in Draco for his wings, then he's clearly wasting his time. So is Draco.

"What if I say that I enjoy your company? I had a good time tonight. Didn't you?" Potter asks, sounding defensive.

"It wasn't unpleasant."

Potter rolls his eyes and steps closer to Draco. He pushes the Floo powder container towards Draco and smiles. "So can we meet on Friday? At the Leaky? Perhaps something a little less formal?"

"Very well," Draco says and he takes a handful of the Floo powder and steps into the fireplace.

0-0-0-0

They meet at the Leaky the next Friday, as planned. When Draco arrives through the front door via Diagon Alley, he spots Potter sitting in a corner, but he's not alone. Weasley...Ron, that is, is there. So are Longbottom and Lavender Brown.

Potter immediately stands up when he sees Draco and charges towards the door. "Sorry about this," he says, to which Draco doesn't respond. He tilts his head to look past Potter to see his friends. Weasley, Longbottom, and Brown are gaping at them. "They didn't think you'd show up and well... I just won a bet." He's smiling at Draco as if this isn't completely inappropriate.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have come."

"No," Potter says in a panicky voice and rests his hand on Draco's arm. "Please, don't go. I'll get rid of them or we'll go somewhere else."

"I'm not some piece of entertainment, Potter," Draco says with as much disdain he can muster. There's no reason for him to be this upset, he knows this. If he'd told his friends that Potter had asked him out—twice—they'd show up and gawk as well.

"I'll get rid of them," Potter says, though he doesn't move. His hand is still on Draco's arm and Draco feels something ignited inside him.

After a long moment, he grabs Potter's hand with his right hand and moves it off him. "I'll get us a table."

He isn't entirely sure why he's putting up with this. On his previous dates if Draco was annoyed, he'd simply leave. Part of him is curious to see how far Potter is willing to be humiliated or insulted by Draco. Part of him wants to know whether the thing he feels inside himself when his skin touches Potter means anything.

0-0-0-0

They meet again three more times. Usually on Wednesday evenings and once on another Friday. The only time Draco had ever spread his wings for Potter was the first time he was at Draco's flat. That was also the only time Potter had asked to see them too. Draco is slightly confused by this because most wizards that want a Veela are always begging to see the wings. Draco's never had a desire to display them for anyone else, but he remembers the way he'd felt when his feathers had brushed against Potter's face and part of him is curious to feel that again.

He isn't sure what Potter wants from him. At first, he'd thought Potter only wanted to see him was because he was attracted to Draco for his wings. Draco wasn't the first Veela Potter had been with; there had been at least one before and Draco never inquired about the others.

Potter tries to casually touch Draco, on his arm, and once he'd tried to brush Draco's hair off his forehead. It's endearing, Draco thinks, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He still hasn't been able to figure Potter out. It's also the only form of touching Potter has ever initiated. After five dates, Potter still hasn't tried to kiss Draco. Even during the times when Draco caught himself staring at Potter's lips, and he was sure that Potter had also noticed it. He should be glad about this, because Draco didn't know what he'd do if Potter did try to kiss him. Still, he also feels slightly rejected. Is he no longer desirable?

It's another Wednesday, and Draco is scheduled to arrive at Potter's place for another dinner. It's their sixth date in five weeks, and tonight, Draco plans on ending it. This has gone far enough. He cannot allow himself to fall for a wizard; he cannot allow himself to fall for Harry Potter, of all the wizards.

When he arrives at Potter's flat, it's empty. His first thought is that Potter probably forgot he'd made plans with Draco but it's a Wednesday and it's highly unlikely for him to forget. Unless, he's forgotten what day of the week it is. Also, that can't be possible because Potter owled him yesterday reminding Draco of their meeting. Maybe he's on a case and it's taking too long.

Draco waits in the sitting room at Potter's flat for two hours. He's annoyed beyond belief; Potter's stood him up, at his own flat. But of all the things he'd learned about Potter over the past few weeks, him being inconsiderate isn't one of them. Maybe this is good for Draco, he can use this as an excuse to leave and not look back. This is a great way to end these meetings with Potter. Then, why in the pit of his stomach, Draco can feel something is wrong?

0-0-0-0

He arrives at the Ministry and the place is nearly deserted. He takes the lifts up to the DMLE level and finds a few employees scattered about. There's a cloud of discomfort hovering over him and he just can't seem to shake it off.

"Is Harry Potter here?" Draco asks the first person he sees when he steps out of the lift. The man looks frazzled and gives Draco a confused look.

"Do you work here?" the man asks.

"What? No. I'm looking for Potter."

"You're not allowed here after hours if you're not an employee."

"What the—"

"Malfoy?" Draco turns to look behind him towards the man that's just called his name and finds Weasley marching right at him. "What are you doing here?" He looks upset. Draco senses danger and that feeling in the pit of his stomach only becomes stronger.

"Is Potter in trouble?" Draco asks, his heart racing a million miles per second and he already knows the answer.

He already knows the answer because he hurts. It hurts. He didn't want to fall for Potter, and he focused so much not falling for the bloody git, he didn't realise the Veela inside him had already chosen him. Finally, it all clicks into place. The damn Veela chose Potter from the first day — maybe because of their history or maybe because through the realisation of Draco's on internal struggle. There's a surge of joy at knowing what Potter means to him now, but also, he feels like he's falling off a cliff.

Potter's in trouble.

"He's been kidnapped," Weasley says sounding sombre. "We were on a mission and..." He pauses for a moment to look around his surroundings. "I can't discuss confidential—"

"Just fucking tell me what happened!" Draco roars and his voice echoes in the almost empty hallway. "Who took him?" Draco doesn't know when he'd come so close to Weasley's body; his hands are on Weasley's collar and he's pulling on them.

"Calm down," Weasley says, grabbing Draco's hands by the wrist and taking them off his collar. "There's a group of Dark Wizards that call themselves the Underworld..." Weasley says, rolling his eyes. "Their leader was arrested last week and Harry was the lead Auror on that mission. We had another report of their sighting today but it looks like it was a trap. As soon as Harry had sent off a few of the Aurors to the first reported location, we received another one, and another one after that until it was just Harry who was left to go check it out. Evidence shows they used a powerful curse to bind his magic and they abducted him. We've just received the demands—"

"Let me guess. They want their leader released in exchange for Potter," Draco says, shaking his head.

"Yeah and we can't do that. The Head Auror and the Minister have already stated we don't negotiate with Dark Wizards. We cannot let the leader of the Underworld go. Not even—"

"For Harry Potter," Draco finishes the sentence for Weasley. "What are they going to do now?"

Weasley shrugs. "They don't want this news getting out. One of the journalists from the Prophet has already got the wind that one of our Aurors were captured, they don't know who it is yet. And if it gets out it's Harry, the wizarding world is going to want us to make the trade. That's just not possible."

"Where did Potter go? When he went on his own. Where did he go?"

"Orkney," Weasley answers, looking confused. "Their base is in Rankinston, but we've already sent a few Aurors there and it's been deserted. They must have another base in Orkney but we haven't been able to locate it yet. The presence of Dark Magic is very dominant there. We can't seem to place any locator spells to find Harry—"

"Does he still have my feather?" Draco asks as his mind's wheels are getting in motion. If they are using Dark Magic to block Potter's location, the only thing that can work would be Veela's magic. He'd need something that is powerful to cut through the wards of Dark Magic. If Potter has his feather, it will be easy for Draco to track him.

"Yeah, he carries that thing everywhere with him," Weasley says, sounding exasperated.

Draco gives into the moment and smiles to himself. "I can find him," he says, determined. "Veela magic can track anything and penetrate through any wards. If he's carrying my feather on his person, then I'm certain I can find him."

"He might be hurt. I have his wand—" Weasley reaches inside the pockets of his robes and brings out Potter's wand. "They left this behind after they disappeared with him."

"Very well," Draco says, taking the wand and nodding once at Weasley. "You can tell the officials they don't have to worry about it. If they must hold a press conference, tell them to say no one was taken. If they make inquiries towards Potter's whereabouts, let them know he's on personal leave. I'll get him back."

"How can you be so sure?" Weasley asks, sound sceptical yet looking relieved. "Do you need help—"

"I will get him back, and if I don't that means he's already dead. But...I can feel it. He's still alive," Draco says. He's already started to focus his magic towards Potter, towards his touch on Draco's skin, and towards the part of him that's with Potter.

"If he's hurt..." Weasley looks pained at the thought and Draco, for once, can relate to him.

"I'll take him to my place and I'll take care of him. You don't have to worry. Whatever his condition, I'll let you know as soon as I can. It'll be okay."

"So it's true?" Weasley asks, looking distracted from his worries for about a second. "You and him are a thing—"

"I— I don't know. We spend time together and he's not what I expected him to be."

"You're not what I expected you to be," Weasley says simply. Draco gives him a tentative smile but doesn't say anything. He has no idea what to say to Weasley. Besides, the more time they spend here talking about his dating life with Potter, the more precious time they're wasting to go out and find him. "He's in love with you."

Draco nearly takes a step back at hearing the statement. "What?"

"It's more than his obsession with the wings thing. He actually bloody well cares for you. The other Veelas he's been with in the past—they were just a distraction of sorts but you—he's taken with you in a way I've never seen. I thought it was because of his infatuation with Veelas, still—"

"I've not shown myself to him except for once. We've only shared meals together. He's never confessed such sentiments to me," Draco says, realising he needs to get a hold of himself. His inner Veela is doing backflips at the news that Potter is in love with him, given it's already decided upon Potter being his mate but it's best to hear such declarations from the source itself.

"Wings are wings," Weasley says casually.

"Shows how much you know," Draco retorts.

"You really think you can do it? You think you can get him back?" Weasley asks, thankfully bring the topic back to something Draco is certain about.

"Yes," Draco says. He takes a step back from Weasley and feels the fabric of his shirt stretch as his wings get ready to unfurl. "I'll find him," he adds and levitates himself. He needs to give himself some time to fly around and acclimate his body to the change. He doesn't do this much, and it's been a while since he's been on a hunt. He soars to the highest point of the room, going around and around, until he sees an open window and dives for it.

A few seconds later, Draco is out of the Ministry and he allows his senses to guide him to Potter.

0-0-0-0

It's a small cave on top of a mountain and Draco can feel the magic thinning out. It's still there, and the Dark Wizards must be using magic to hold Potter in the cave, but it's not enough for a wandless spells. He circles the mountain a few times and finds three guards at the mouth of the cave, and nowhere else. If there is more security, then it must be inside the cave, watching Potter.

An uneasy feeling settles over Draco as he descends on the other side, just out of the guards' view. What if they hurt him? What if they hurt Potter? His heart is racing and he needs to make sure Potter is all right before he does anything rash. He is supposed to free Potter—that's his first task and knowing Potter—he'd want to arrest these bloody men as opposed to just push them off the mountain.

There's only one of Potter and about half a dozen of these wizards and they would keep him alive if they wanted to make a trade after all. But Draco knows all too well keeping someone alive doesn't necessarily mean they wouldn't take advantage of their power and hurt him in the process too.

He can't think like this right now. He just needs to get in, get Potter, and get out.

"Oi! Who's there?"

Purple light shoots out from the side of the mountain. Draco barely manages to dodge the curse, quickly retracting his wings.

"I'm here on business," Draco says and raises his hands up before he confronts the guards at the entrance of the cave.

"We have no business with a Veela," the man spits out. His eyes are dark, his face filthy, and he looks like he probably hasn't had a good mean in a quite a while. His dark blue robes have turned brown like a rotten peach and they are torn from the bottom. The other two men don't look any better.

"You do, if you want to live," Draco says. "I need to see the prisoner."

"How did you know—"

The second man pats the first one's arm. "Don't say anything."

"I'm alone and all I want to do is see the prisoner. There's only one of me and what...five of you?"

The first man scowls at Draco confirming Draco's suspicions. Two men inside the cave; three outside.

"Let him go. If he does anything, we'll finish them both off," the second man says.

The third man finally speaks. "But what about the trade?"

Draco has half a mind to tell the men the Ministry would never trade with Dark Wizards, no matter who they had captured. But he's not an idiotic Gryffindor who jumps in first and asks questions later, so he remains quiet. His wings are still extended because he knows he has to act fast, and it also gives him a good opportunity to hide Potter's wand.

As he enters the cave, the second man shouts after him, "The boyfriend's here."

Potter looks up immediately, eyes squinting. His glasses are broken and they're chucked off by his left foot. His hands are bound by a glowy rope which gives Draco another uneasy feeling. His face his slightly bruised and his lower lip swollen. There's an anger inside him that's now raging to get out. He hasn't been angry like this since that one time Aunt Bella had slapped Draco's mother in front of him at the manor. He'd never wanted to lash out more than that ever before...until now.

"Who's there?" Potter says, defiant.

"What the fuck is a Veela doing here?" One of the guards that's inside the cave mutters and Draco doesn't turn around to glare at him. His eyes are fixed on Potter.

"Draco?" Potter whispers the word and a strange warm feeling settles over Draco's heart. The feathers on his right wing twitch.

"So much for the element of surprise," Draco says, grabbing Potter's broken glasses and placing them on Potter's face. He murmurs a spell and they are fixed; not in perfect condition, but they'll do for now. Potter's eyes widen since now he can clearly see Draco and Draco doesn't waste his time as he motions towards Potter's wand that's tucked under his left wing.

"They've bound my magic with this rope. I don't know—"

"That's close enough," the guard snarls and places his hand on Draco's left shoulder pulling him back.

"Don't touch me," Draco roars as he stands up, his wings in full glory and his voice echoes through the tiny cave. "I'm just talking to him. There's not much he can do here."

The guards take a step back and Draco nods at them. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be out of your way," he says and they nod back. They haven't realised he's using the Veela's power of suggestion to do what he wants. He can't make them leave but he can give them the impression he's harmless. It was how he was able to get into the cave in the first place.

"Where's the feather?" Draco asks Potter.

"Inner front pocket of my jacket," Potter says and Draco immediately opens Potter's jacket and reaches for it. "The other side."

Draco shakes his head, mumbling a, "be more clear next time." He holds the feather in between his fingers and then uses the tip of the feather to cut the rope on Potter's left wrist. "Do the same for the other side," he says, placing Potter's wand where he'd found his feather.

He stands up and hides Potter's body behind his wings. He doesn't want the guards to suspect anything yet. Potter indicates he's ready by brushing his knuckles against Draco's wings, sending shivers up and down Draco's spine. Bastard.

"Protego." Draco's voice is hushed but he knows the spell's worked as he seems a glimmer in the air, and he and Potter are briefly protected from imminent attacks from the guards. He quickly turns to Potter and holds his left hand; Potter's right hand is ready with the wand. "You'll need to rely on my magic for your spells to work."

Potter nods in confirmation and doesn't delay before he shoots spell after spell using the guards' won damned rope to tie them up. Not only are they now disarmed, their magic is also confined.

"What about the three outside?" Draco asks.

"We can just knock them out?" Potter says shrugging. "If your magic is strong here, then a spell to keep them asleep for twelve hours should work."

"Brilliant," Draco says before he shouts and the guards outside the cave come running in. Potter is swift in his movements and the men are on the floor, bound, and unconscious. Potter's magic is beautiful; his technique is majestic. "How did they manage to capture you in the first place?" Draco retorts, it's the only thing he can do to not show Potter how turned on he is by this.

"I didn't have you by my side," Potter says and is again, quick to send his Patronus charm to Weasley. He explains the situation as best he can and a second later, collapses in Draco's arms. Strange how he feels so right then.

Draco carries Potter out of the cave and the cold air hits them both. Potter stirs in his arms and he opens his eyes looking confused. "I'm taking you away from here," Draco says to the unasked question. He can feel Potter's thoughts as if they were flowing through his own body.

"But—"

"You've informed the Ministry, the bloody bastards who weren't going to save you and let you rot here, so I say you're work is done, Potter." He flaps his wings a few times, the noise echoing through the empty hills, he's making sure he's ready for the long flight home. He looks down at Potter once more, "Now, hold tight."

Potter wraps his arms around Draco's neck and his face rests against Draco's shoulders. His breath is warm and Draco can feel the smile creeping on his own face at the feel of holding Potter. Bloody wanker.

0-0-0-0

Draco arrives at the roof of his building and realises Potter has fallen asleep. Either that or he's fainted and he doesn't have the time to check on that right now — he needs to get Potter to safety. The Veela inside him is sick with worry. He retracts his wings, and opens the door leading them down the stairs to the third floor to his flat. He places Potter down gently on the sofa and hears Potter's deep breaths. Sleeping, then.

He's in the kitchen heating up water for tea when he hears Potter's voice. It's a soft moan that allows Draco to know he's still in pain. The beating they'd given him wasn't all that superficial after all. He brings the tea and a salve to spread over his bruises.

"Sit up," he commands Potter, who struggles to do so but manages. "Let me see."

Draco lifts up Potter's shirt and finds a dark bruise just above his ribs. "Let me see where else," he says and slowly takes off Potter's shirt. There are matching bruises on his back as well. The healing balm he's going to use is something he's created himself. He knows it smells awful but it works wonders on fresh bruises. He had to rely on his own creations after the war, especially getting beaten up repeatedly in corners of Diagon Alley for being on the wrong side of the war. Just like when no one had supported Pansy when she was creating her own business, many Healers had refused to help him in treating his wounds.

"Turn here so I can get your side," he says, his fingers hovering over Potter's skin.

He hears Potter gulp nervously. "I didn't know I'd have to get kidnapped for the chance for you to take my clothes off."

"You didn't have to get kidnapped if you just wanted me to hold you," Draco retorts.

"The flying was brilliant," Potter says with a smile.

"I doubt it, since you were sleeping through most of it," Draco says and Potter looks pained. "It's fine, Potter." He gives Potter his mug of tea and helps him settle back into the sofa. "Just rest here for a few hours. When you're feeling up to it, you're going to need a hot shower to wash all the salve off."

"Where will you be?" Potter asks, his eyes starting to close on their own accord and he struggles to keep them open.

"I'll get the bed ready for you and then I'll make us something to eat."

"You don't have to. I'm fine on the sofa."

"We'll see," Draco says and helps Potter lie down again. He covers Potter with the blanket and then goes off to fetch a towel. Placing it by Potter's head, he says, "Take a shower when you wake up and then go to the bedroom. Don't argue with me."

Potter hums something incoherent and immediately falls asleep. Draco watches Potter for a while, his hand itching to brush Potter's hair off his face but he resists. He's still holding on to the belief that Potter isn't his, not really, and stays firm on the topic. Even though his body is completely disagreeing with his brain.

Eventually, Draco gets up and walks away. He writes a quick note to Weasley saying Potter's with him and = he's going to stay with him until he feels better. He requests Weasley to send him some of Potter's clothes and other belongings he might need. He's made sure his owl gets a nice treat before he sends him off. Most likely Dallian is going to return with a heavy parcel full of Potter's things and he wants to make sure the owl stays in a good mood.

It's an hour before he hears back from Weasley. Weasley is predictably not happy about Potter being hurt, and shockingly, thanks Draco for his help. He's sent Potter's clothes and a couple of Quidditch magazines and told Draco to "keep him safe for as long as necessary."

Imagine that. Ron Weasley trusting Draco with Potter's life.

0-0-0-0

Potter eventually wakes up and Draco realises he's still weak. Potter tries to get up but he can't even seem to support him on his elbows.

"Let me help you," Draco says, wrapping an arm around Potter's waist and taking him to the shower.

When Draco turns to walk away, Potter calls after him. "What? Not going to watch me bathe? Make sure I don't slip and fall?" The teasing tone in Potter's voice eases Draco's worries and assures him Potter is feeling better than before. He looks better too. His bruises look somewhat healed and the colouring in his skin is back to normal.

"I'll be out here when you're done," is all the reply Draco gives before closing the bathroom door behind him.

It's a small flat and Draco will hear it when the shower water will shut off so he returns to the kitchen to make a few sandwiches and then puts them on a plate to bring them to the bedroom—where Potter's going to sleep. Because Draco's going to sleep on the sofa. Right.

His Veela side stirs with disagreement and Draco ignores it.

Potter opens the bathroom door before Draco can get there and he watches as Potter is still having trouble balancing himself. Potter takes a few steps and almost keels over.

"Okay there?" Draco asks stepping forward and catches Potter before he loses his balance completely.

"You're always catching me," Potter says, smiling. His glasses are foggy and he looks like a complete fool but Draco finds it all a bit endearing which only frustrates him beyond belief.

"I reckon you just need a reason for me to touch you," Draco says, carrying Potter to the bedroom.

"Still need to find a reason for you to kiss me," Potter says when Draco puts him on the bed, making sure he's secure and isn't going to topple over.

"I've got some of your clothes here—"

"Kiss me," Potter says. He's staring up at Draco, still in the towel and his hair slightly damp. His glasses aren't foggy anymore and the green shines so bright, it might burn a hole in Draco's chest.

Draco kneels down in front of Potter so they're face to face. "You're impossi—"

"Kiss me. You saved me today, might as well seal the deal."

Draco laughs lightly and leans towards Potter's face. His eyes are intent on Potter's mouth when Potter licks his lips and parts them slightly. It starts off slow. Tentative. It's as if Draco is afraid that if he's too rough with Potter he might break him. Except, he knows Potter is the strongest man there is and nothing can break him. Things might come close and people might try to shatter him, but Potter is a survivor. He's a damn hero.

"More," Potter whispers against Draco's mouth when he tries to pull off, grabs Draco by the back of his neck and starts sucking on Draco's lower lip.

Suddenly, it's a hot, bruising kiss and Potter's so desperate for it. Draco is too. He moans against Potter's mouth as he pushes his tongue in and Potter's sucking on it before he slides his own tongue alongside Draco's. They take their time, they take their turn, moaning, and groaning. Meanwhile, Draco's pushed Potter all the way down on the bed; he doesn't even know when he got on top of him.

Draco kicks his shoes off and starts to unbutton his trousers as Potter is thrusting up at him. He unfolds his towel and all but throws is on the floor and they're both hard, rubbing up against each other as Potter arches up and releases a satisfied groan. This is so different to any other experience Draco has ever had. He's never been this rash, or needy before.

Potter starts to unbutton Draco's shirt. "I want to feel all of you against me," he says.

"You will," Draco replies before he grabs Potter's arms and forces them above Potter's head. Potter smiles welcoming whatever Draco has in store for him and Draco knows that he wants to lick, and kiss, and suck on every part of Potter's body.

"Turn," Draco says and he grabs Potter by his waist.

He starts at the top of Potter's neck, kissing slowly down his back, and taking in the smell that's mixed with Draco's own lilac soap and something that can only be...Potter. Potter's writhing underneath him, small whimpers escape him when Draco sucks on a part of his skin or kisses him right above his healing bruise. He takes his time massaging Potter's arse, making sure it's just as therapeutic as it is pleasurable. Potter arches up and spreads his legs, inviting Draco in.

At first, he gives it an experimental lick and Potter's body shivers under his tongue. "Is that okay?" Draco asks, trying not to sound too nervous. He doesn't want to cross any lines, even though, he's got Potter in his bed, and he hasn't said a word to discourage Draco otherwise.

"Please..." Potter says, raising his arse up in the air, now inviting Draco for certain.

"Get on your knees," Draco says and removes the rest of his clothing. He starts with licking Potter's balls first, tugging slightly on his cock, before Draco focuses his attention on Potter's entrance. Immediately, his hole clenches around Draco's tongue and as Draco darts it in and out, Potter is panting. Mumbling incoherently, encouraging Draco to keep going.

Draco's own cock is throbbing. He wants to lay a hand on himself, get himself off as he fucks Harry with his tongue but he wants to wait. He wants to have Harry beg him, plead for Draco to fuck him with his cock and scream his name as he comes. He knows now he's never wanted anyone as badly as he wants Harry.

Harry.

If you're fucking a man with your tongue, you might as well call him by his given name.

He can feel Harry's cock leaking, leaving a wet spot on Draco's bed and Draco knows he's ready. Draco can do whatever he wishes with Harry and Harry will allow it. Harry is his.

He has to be.

It's funny how in the beginning, it was Harry who wished for Draco to want him, but now it's Draco who needs Harry. Though not a conscious decision, it's as obvious as the night is dark that Harry is his mate. It's Harry who he needs to be with, wants to be with, for the rest of his days.

Draco pulls away from Harry for a moment and tries to position himself correctly. "Am I hurting you?" he asks, his hands gripping Harry's thighs.

"Dammit, Draco. Just fuck me," Harry says, pushing back. "I want...you. I want this. Please."

It's that hushed tone again, the one he'd used weeks ago when he'd asked to see Draco's wings. And the reaction from Draco is also still the same. A surge of electricity going through his body, and his cock twitching at the desperation in his voice.

He slowly pushes inside, taking in the heat that feels so good and hears Harry hiss. Is it the pain from Draco's cock or is it the pain from the bruises those bastards had left Harry with? He can't tell and he wants to make sure Harry's doing okay but he also doesn't want to stop. He can't stop.

"This will make you mine, Harry," Draco says, leaning down to whisper it in Harry's ear as he pushes all the way inside.

"I've been yours," Harry replies.

Draco wraps his arms securely around Harry's chest and pulls him back. They're both on their knees, Harry's back against Draco's chest as he starts to move them together. Harry seems to catch on what Draco is doing and he pushes up and down on Draco's cock, practically fucking himself on it. Harry's right hand's grabbed Draco by the back of his neck and his left is holding onto Draco's arse. It's a weird angle, but it's working for them.

One more kiss from Harry; one more push and pull and Draco continues to pound into him when his wings flare out. Unlike the other times when Draco's wings came out, the subtle pain Draco is so used to seems to have vanished. The crack of his skin doesn't burn, and the noise that echoes through the room is almost rhythmic to Harry's moans. Harry knows what Draco's just done and he's whimpering, and their movement becomes faster, only desperate. Not desperate enough to get off soon, but to feel more. Draco wants to feel more.

His wings envelope Harry inside them.

Harry throws his head back, resting it against Draco's shoulder. His eyes are closed and the feathers of Draco's wings gently caress Harry's cock.

Harry releases another satisfied moan, so Draco does it again, and again.

"I'm going to come," Harry says in between hitched breaths. "I'm going to come on it if you don't—"

"Do it," Draco says, surprised at how he wants this too. He wants to feel Harry come on him, his wings, the things he considered most sacred and he wants Harry to spill himself all over them. "Come with me."

As Harry climaxes, hot spurts coming on Draco's feathers, and Draco is pushed over the edge, as well.

0-0-0-0

Draco manages to make sure the sheets are clean before he pulls out of Harry and Harry collapses on the bed. He quickly makes his way to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and run it under warm water. Before returning, he casts a quick cleaning spell on his wings and smiles to himself about how strange the last few weeks of his life have been.

Harry's sat up on the bed and he's looking for something.

"What is it?" Draco asks, entering the room.

"My wand. I can't—I don't have the strength for wandless magic right now."

Draco sits on the bed across from him and runs the warm wash cloth all over his body. Harry hums in delight and it causes Draco's cock to twitch again.

Draco retracts his wings which earns him a small frown from Harry. He chuckles to Harry's response and settles himself on the bed next to Harry. "There are some sandwiches in that container next to the lamp. If you're hungry." Draco points at the bedside table and at the small plastic container.

"Thank Merlin. I'm starving," Harry says, quickly grabbing for the box. He pulls out two sandwiches and hands one to Draco. "Oh, this is so good."

Draco chuckles. "You're just famished. They're not that good."

"You have no idea. I love it when others cook for me and these are amazing. What is this, aioli?"

"Yeah," Draco says, feeling proud of himself. He knows his cooking isn't much but it does comfort him a great deal that Harry seems to enjoy it.

Harry finishes off the second sandwich just as quickly as the first one while Draco simply opts for drinking water. After everything is finished and Draco's put the empty containers away, he helps Harry get into his pyjama trousers and a Muggle t-shirt.

"Are you staying with me?" Harry asks, sounding uneasy.

"If you'd like," Draco says with a smile and puts on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. He takes Harry in his arms as he rests his head in the crook of Draco's neck and breaths in deep.

"You always smell so good," Harry says.

"Veela magic," Draco jokes, feeling content. He's never spent the night with someone before. Everything about this encounter is leaving him gratified.

"What does it mean now that I'm yours," Harry says, looking up. "I assume we're mates now. You being a Veela and all and well—I know the story behind what happens when a Veela chooses a mate."

Draco shifts uncomfortably, expecting Harry to say he isn't sure if he wants this for life. "What do you want it to mean?"

"Will we start living together? Will be get married? I don't have to stop being an Auror, do I?" Because I think Ron's really going to be pissed off about that one. And—"

"Potter," Draco says, firm. "Just rest for now. We have the rest of our lives to figure it all out."

Harry smiles and leans in to kiss Draco softly. "I like the sound of that," he says and settles into Draco's embrace.

"Me too," Draco replies. Evidently, he has all the time in the world to make it work with Harry.

As Draco drifts off to sleep, he wonders if now Pansy is going to make Harry also model for her runway shows. After all, she's going to want to take all the credit on bringing them together.

Hell, she'll even try to see if Draco dating Harry will get them out of their scheduled visits at the Ministry.

THANKS FOR READING