Disclaimer: This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.

Notes: I wrote this for the hp-creatures fest. This story was gutted and changed various times over, but it was ridiculously fun to write. Thanks so much to Corazon for reading through it countless times in an effort to erase most of my typos (we may have missed a few). Also, the last lines that Dramione speak are not mine. I altered those words from a lovely post I found on tumblr that the Greeks would often say. Your feedback is always appreciated. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy!

"There are millions of ways to bleed. But you are by far my favorite."
—Ian S. Thomas, I Wrote This for You

Part I

A soft, methodical tapping sound infiltrated the otherwise quiet atmosphere of Draco's quaint office. The wizard was almost certain he'd read the same sentence various times over. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to stifle the pounding headache he was currently suffering. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than drown his discomfort with a bottle of firewhisky.

He sighed dejectedly as his fingers gripped one side of a silver metronome that sat on the corner of his desk. He'd come across the contraption during one of his outings into London when studying various muggle laws. It was something he'd learned to do early on in his studies, finding that his world of law was a bit more primitive than that of muggles.

Draco turned twenty-five today and instead of preparing for a night of drunken endeavors with his Slytherin brothers, he was picturing the comfort of his bed. Things really did change when one grew older, the defense attorney mused.

The edges of his palms pressed against his eyes. Bursts of light danced in his vision as his lids remained closed for a moment longer. It wasn't long before he felt a small surge of energy course through him again. Holding the affidavit up to his line of vision once more, he skimmed with minimal interest until he realized his clients were sorted into Slytherin.

…Defendants found in possession of their wands outside of Hogwarts grounds…

….proceeded to obliviate the muggle …

"Shite," he muttered as his free hand jotted notes. His elegant script stained the parchment with every stroke of his wrist.

This was going to be a tougher case than what he'd first anticipated. Now that he knew the children were Slytherin, things would be exceedingly difficult come their trial date. But Draco was not put off by the challenge. This was the very reason he'd decided to become a defense attorney in the Ministry. His own trial after the war had practically been a farce. He'd almost been shipped to Azkaban without proper representation. If it hadn't been for the Golden Trio coming to his aid he would very well be there this instant. It was in that moment, when he was standing before an array of judging eyes, with chains biting into his wrists that he realized the importance of law. He realized that if he made it out he would dedicate his life to help those who were sometimes forced into their beliefs. Most people just didn't understand to repercussions of being raised by a family such as his own. He'd been bred to hate and loathe what was deemed dirt and everyone assumed that he was just like his father. Yes, he'd done
some unspeakable things and his ability to curse objects and trap people under an imperious were instances that did not help his case but for Salazar's sake, he'd been a kid—they all had. Luckily, that was how the Golden Trio had helped sway the Wizengamot.

Two years of probation and restricted use of his magic.

But that seemed like ages ago to the wizard now. He was very good at what he did, with only two cases lost. Though he was quite sure those cases were lost because of corruption within the Ministry. Such things could not be helped.

A sudden tickling sensation bloomed in his nose. Lavender and honey wafted in the air. The scent caused confusion to stir within the wizard. He was most certain there would be nothing in his office to cause those particular fragrances. And now that he thought about it, he'd been catching small whiffs of the scent this week. It seemed that today the smell grew stronger.

He'd tally that strange occurrence to his lack of sleep.

His eyes glanced at the muggle clock above his office door–a gift one of his co-workers had given him when he'd won a substantial case. It wouldn't be long now until he was up to no good with his friends–and hopefully, without the company of his headache.

Two hours later, Draco rose from his seat, arms outstretched above his head in hopes the motion would release the knot in his back. He shuffled the notes in his desk meticulously, placing each piece of parchment in concise positions. Without sparing another glance at his work, he headed towards the ministry corridors.

The ache in his body intensified with each step he took through the halls. It felt like the times he'd spent mercilessly training for quidditch. Draco made a mental note to brew up some healing potions when he got to his flat. He silently wondered if he should alert his mother but quickly decided against it. Merlin knew he would never get that woman out of his hair if he informed her of his current state. She was already nagging his ear off with prospects of marriage. And he was equally as proficient in his potion-making skills as she. The wizard knew that with one quick swig of his own concoction he'd be feeling back to normal.

Laughter broke out in his proximity and it was the most wondrous sound to have ever graced his ears. His nose suddenly flared as the scent of lavender and honey infiltrated his nostrils again. This time however, it filled his anatomy with a surge of happiness—a happiness he'd never felt in his life. And all at once he felt panic, panic because he was frightened that whatever or whoever was causing this feeling would disappear, and the fleeting thought of that happening made the wizard nauseous. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, silver eyes wide as they searched every corner of his immediate surroundings. It was then that he saw her–it was then that their eyes met. Hermione's smiling gaze shifted from Ron to him. It was a passing glance, of course, but when their eyes met something cracked inside of Draco. It was like tunnel vision. Everyone else grew faint as his senses sharpened in on her.

The pain he'd felt throughout the day suddenly intensified. His knees buckled as his skin grew inflamed with an unknown fire. The palm of his hand pressed against the cool, marble floor as he steadied himself. He felt a rumbling in his chest and in the back of his consciousness he found it sounded almost like a growl. His mind grew hazy, realizing a new intruder thundered against his cranium.

"Mate."

The spectators formed a small circle around the kneeling man. Draco's gaze rose toward Hermione and instantly he growled when he noticed her fingers digging into Ron's forearm. Despite the paralyzing pain, he rose to his feet with murderous eyes. He wanted to end the life of every wizard that stood too close to Hermione. He wanted to be the reason she laughed as she did earlier and he definitely wanted to be the only one she smiled at.

The group of spectators took tentative steps back, deciding it best not to intrude in whatever was happening to the man. The lack of action was not because society found him to be a bad person—not completely. But he was a private man, immensely so. He was cordial when spoken to and often helpful when asked questions. Yet the wizard chose to keep to himself and that was perfectly fine with all those who worked in the ministry. Better a reserved Draco than a plotting one.

Hermione frowned, her gaze momentarily settling on Ron before glancing back at Draco. Carefully, with her hand gripping her wand she took a step towards him and the movement caused a positive reaction from Draco.

"'Mione! Stand back! Look at his eyes. Are you crazy?" The ginger made a move to grip her forearm and Draco lost it. Balls of fire blasted through the skin of both palms, leaving black, menacing stains on the marble floor. Gasps broke through the silence but Hermione was not completely shaken. The woman was after all head of the Magical Creatures & Safety Division. She was the one they called when rambunctious magical creatures caused trouble in their environment. Her last run in had been with a clan of vampires and a week later she was still spending ages administering pleasant smelling potions to ride the stench of garlic. Vampires seemed to have a sense of humor.

Hermione fought her panic, simmering it down. Draco was just a disgruntled wizard and whatever was wrong could not be as bad as facing a clan of vampires. She continued her stride towards him. It seemed that everyone else was too shocked by his display to do anything and she briefly wondered why she was taking it upon herself to help him. Hermione never really interacted with the man these days, usually busy herself with her own priorities, but when they did run into each other they were at least amicable. There was something in the way his eyes were assessing her. She had a vague notion in the back of her mind that although seeming dangerous; Draco wasn't going to hurt her.

The witch held her palm out to show that she meant no harm while the other gripped her wand tightly, pressing it to the side of her thigh. "Malfoy, don't do anything rash. Whatever is ailing you we'll figure it out, okay? I need you to calm down."

Yes! He would do anything that she asked. He would walk barefoot through winter nights and swim long distances if it meant she was happy, if it meant–Merlin! What was happening to him? All he could feel was a rush of calm when he took hold of the hand she offered him. He was quick to pull her to him and the abrupt reaction caused Hermione to stumble into his arms.

His eyes were celestial, an array of amber and silver dancing within them. She was absolutely captivated. It was as though he'd just promised her the world as he held her securely against his hard chest. His height caused him to loom over her smaller frame but Hermione was not frightened, on the contrary, she hadn't felt so safe in…well, she never had felt this safe before. His look was filled with such tenderness that it welled her chest with a foreign emotion but before she could decipher it, Ron's voice broke through her unforeseen halt of rationality.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, taking a step forward, eyes wide with fear. The Auror was beside himself with worry.

A murderous screech broke through Draco's lips as he tightened his hold on the woman. She yelped out when she felt the pang of something sharp dig into her waist. The illusion she'd been placed in ripped through her and a crippling fear bubbled under the woman's skin. Hearing her in distress caused Draco's chest to tighten, realizing his talons had dug into her skin. His hold loosened and he nuzzled her neck in a silent apology.

In the back of his mind he was slightly panicked at the realization that he'd grown talons.

Hermione placed both hands on his chest, eyes scanning the room in embarrassment. She had a vague notion of what was happening but she quickly shoved it to the deepest crevices of her mind. There was no possible way! She would not voice the theory that sprang into her mind, especially since it was such a rare occurrence and most especially because if she was correct-

Merlin she wasn't even going to finish that horrendous thought.

The witch returned her tentative attention to Draco who was currently throwing a series of snarls at Ron. She could feel his hands grow hot against her waist and she knew that a fresh set of fire balls were probably on the verge of spitting out from his palms if she didn't do something. She swallowed, shuddering against him before placing both hands on either side of his face, willing his eyes to return her stare.

"Safe. Mate is safe," the new being within Draco purred.

"Malfoy? Please, I need you to relax. Will you do that—," oh Merlin, she swallowed again, her lips quivering as they stretched into a brief smile. "Will you do that for me?"

The blonde wizard was silent for a long moment, head dipping close to her with a dreamy look on his face. He inched his mouth towards her, lips parted as he whispered out, "anything for mate." It was so soft that Hermione briefly wondered if she'd imagined it, but was soon distracted when his lips slanted over hers. His fingers ran through her unruly locks and Hermione realized his talons were gone. His lips continued to move against hers and she wasn't sure what was more curious—the fact that Draco Malfoy was kissing her in the middle of the Ministry corridors or the fact that she was actually kissing him back.

"You're absolutely beautiful," he murmured against her lips. His tone was filled with reverence and his kiss was absolutely holy. Was this what Nirvana felt like? Hermione once read several books on religion growing up. She'd never had anything to compare the theories on until this moment. The feel of his lips against hers was absolutely heavenly. She mimicked his movements, digging her fingers through forests of silky, blonde hair. Draco purred, hand pushing her head closer to his so that he could better deepen the kiss between them.

Draco was both fascinated and horrified by how good she felt in his arms. A sense of clarity washed over him as his lips found hers. He had the biggest urge to wrap himself around her so that she would always be with him. This was completion. This was the culmination of all the terrible shite he'd ever been subjected to. From now on he would protect the precious witch within his arms. He would love her with every fiber and cell that composed his body. This was his destiny. It was written in the stars.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He pushed against the maddening notions that were currently floating within his mind. He hadn't the faintest idea where these illicit thoughts were coming from but he needed to—Great Founders could this woman kiss.

Logic be damned! The feel of her pouty lips on his was far too pleasurable to even care of the repercussions that would surely follow. He growled against her lips when a soft whimper escaped hers. Fingers digging into the nape of her neck, he angled her for better access.

A sudden, prickling pain surged in Draco's back. He pushed Hermione away, but not without holding onto her shoulders. His eyes flared with anger. The wizard glared over his shoulders. A menacing growl filled the air as the sight of Harry Potter holding his wand firmly pointed in the Veela's direction came into view.

"Malfoy…whatever you're planning know that it will not end well for you. Let Hermione go."

Draco pressed the witch against his chest. She was still dizzy from the kiss, eyes fluttering as she gripped his suit jacket in a feeble effort to remain upright. A rip echoed through the corridor and Draco howled in pain. Wings burst from his back earning gasps from the spectators. The scaly wings were opal, shimmering beautifully against the gleaming light the corridors offered. They flapped once before encircling the duo. Draco would not allow anyone to harm the woman. He would kill them with his bare hands if it meant keeping her safe. She was too precious—too vital. These thoughts frightened the wizard but they were too overpowering to stop.

Hermione shook her head frantically. The stupor faded and reality came tumbling into her. Her theory popped into her mind once more, this time with much more certainty. Dread gripped her bones and she pushed Draco away with all her might. But her movements were in vain for no sooner had she attempted to break away did Draco press her tighter against him, grumbling out, "must protect mate."

Harry shot another set of tranquilizing hexes at him and after the tenth one Draco's hold on the woman grew loose. Before he could retaliate his eyes fluttered and soon he crashed into the floor along with Hermione, landing right on top of her in a heap of dead weight. She fell with a squeak of surprise.

It was going to be a long night apparently.