Disclaimer: I do not claim to own or to have created the characters, places and situations depicted in this story and I intend to make no money from it. This disclaimer is relevant to any and all chapters that may be added in the future.

A/N: This is yet another in a long line of veela fics. But as I like them so much I thought I would make an attempt. Though this is hardly an original theme, I'm going to try to make some aspects a little original. This is a slash DM/HP story. If anyone does not like this, of course, do not read the story. Any suggestions about the plot are welcome but will not necessarily be followed as I have a fairly clear idea where I'm going with this.

The Veela Conspiracy

Chapter One: A Night visit

Footsteps could be heard pelting through the hallways of Hogwarts. Startled students looked up from their 'I'm very grumpy today because someone stole my teddy bear Bubbles so I'm going to give you a horribly difficult test' tests, set by Professor Snape, as a small figure rushed past the Potions Room. They heard running, stumbling footsteps; frantic gasping for breath and then it was gone in a flash.

Somewhere in one of the twisty turny secret passages of Hogwarts (which no-one was supposed to know about so everybody did) a small figure ran over the even smaller figure of Professor Filius Flitwick, who was rather embarrassed at being found in a forbidden secret passage. The two figures got up looked at each other, and then hurried off in their separate directions. Professor Flitwick hoped the boy wouldn't tell Dumbledore, or he would be forced to endure one of those lectures about setting a good example for the students (accompanied by lemon drops). Shudder.

In the library Seamus and Dean were flicking wadded pieces of paper at Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting at the next table and were quite bewildered at the 'little bits of paper from nowhere'. Neville just rolled his eyes each time he heard surprised grunts, as he read a nice book about moss.

Seamus and Dean were just planning a co-ordinated attack, from both sides, when the tall doors to the library were flung open with the dramatic flair most attributed to a deatheater attack, or Snape in a bad mood. But no! There stood the wretched, panting, distraught and, in Seamus' opinion, quite dashing form of Mr Harry James Potter.

He looked around in a dazed way before catching sight of their little group. He made his way over to the threesome in a rather pathetic manner until he stood in front of them. Dean cleared his throat rather awkwardly. He was afraid to ask the question. 'So…Harry. What's the matter?'

Harry flung himself down next to Seamus with all the pathos of a Greek play and buried his head in his hands. Neville was looking upon him as he would look upon an experiment on the magical Venus Fly-Trap that had gone wrong. 'Harry?' Dean ventured to prod the crouched figure with his pencil.

Eventually the petite boy raised his head. 'It's Ron…and Hermione.' He was staring forwards with a slightly vacant look in his eyes. 'I was trying to find my quidditch gloves. I had looked everywhere; under my bed; under Ron's bed; under Seamus' bed.' At this point he stopped to give Seamus a rather pointed look. Seamus blushed. Harry continued.

'Finally I decided to check the Gryffindor store cupboard. You know…the one off of the common room.' They all nodded. 'Ron and Hermione were in there.' Harry shuddered. 'They were doing…' He paused. '…stuff.' Dean snorted and Seamus gave him a quick glare before gathering the traumatised boy in his larger, relatively manly, arms.

'I had always assumed of course. I mean they're going out. But to actually see it…' Seamus petted the dark hair on the head presented to him and murmured comforting nonsense to him. 'Everything's going to be ok. You'll see. I'll look after you.' Dean looked at them in amusement. Neville returned to Everything you ever wanted to know about moss (The New Edition!!!).

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Over sixth months before this Mr Harry James Potter had become even more famous for becoming the defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, My Lord to his friends or Mouldy Voldy to anyone who thought he was mentally unbalanced. With an extraordinary piece of luck, involving sticky-back plastic, paper and safety scissors, Voldemort had managed to capture Harry, halfway through sixth year, in a dastardly plot to steal his magic and kill him once and for all.

Once again Harry had found himself in The Department of Mysteries, in front of the veil which had taken his godfather, and which was very likely going to take him too. In a fit of the angst that had plagued him through fifth year Harry had thrown himself at Bellatrix Lestrange shouting, 'You killed Sirius. You bitch!' In doing so he had tripped over in a very un-hero like way, spraining his right little toe and cracking his wand which rolled out in front of Voldemort. Voldemort summoned it to him whilst the Deatheaters sniggered at the sight made by the little boy-who-lived sprawled out on the floor.

'Now Harry Potter, you have plagued me for long enough. Tonight you dieeee!' With an unholy screech that made everyone wince, Voldemort uttered a curse at Harry which was intended to strip him of his magic, using Harry's wand. Unfortunately for the mutated wizard, the crack in Harry's wand (remembering Lockhart and his obliviation spell) caused the curse to rebound. Harry watched in vague surprise as Voldemort had shrivelled into a little pile of desiccated skin and bone. Later it was revealed that Voldemort's attempts at immortality had irrevocably tied his life to his magic and, by taking away his magic, he had taken his own life. Tough Luck as some would say. Others would call it pure stupidity.

Nothing could have exceeded Harry's surprise, however, when Deatheaters all around him started shrivelling up as well. Voldemort, in his extreme selfishness, had tied all their lives to his, so that if he died, they would also. And die they did. Well…at least the ones who weren't clever or sane enough to remove the spell. To Harry's intense disappointment, Bellatrix Lestrange didn't shrivel up. However in a stroke of extraordinary bad luck, which Harry thought was well deserved, she was knocked over by another Deatheater and tripped and fell into the Veil.

Harry was, of course, very pleased by this. But he was still more pleased when Sirius came tumbling out of said Veil. They fell into each others arms in time for them both to watch Wormtail turn into a little pile of dust. Sirius had then picked up a stray wand, bound the remaining Deatheaters, and then he and Harry had danced a little jig over Wormtail's ashes (Until Harry remembered he had a sprained toe).

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No-one, of course, believed that Harry defeating Voldemort was purely an accident. Let alone killing most of the Deatheaters and capturing the rest, and rescuing his godfather from the veil (who was very quickly proved innocent by the identifying spells placed on various piles of dust). All with only a sprained right little toe. And so Harry was widely regarded as one of the greatest wizards who ever lived. Even Dumbledore looked at him with a strange sort of respect. And it was rumoured that trainee Unspeakables were ordered to study him. His friends just looked at him in amusement. Harry's luck was legendary amongst them.

But the problem with all this, the problem which had Harry crying into his hands at night (sometimes), was that no-one was brave enough to ask him out. Everyone who didn't know him already thought he was some wondrous mythical figure (and you don't ask wonderful mythical figures on a date ever, Merlin didn't have a date in all the time he lived). And Harry was far too scared of being rejected to ever ask anyone out; especially after the incident with Cho and all the tears. So Harry was alone. And he had to watch his two best friends engaged in romantic bliss and wonderful fluffy love, which made him feel much worse.

Now that they had gone into seventh year all Harry wanted was someone to love, and someone to love him. He wanted someone to play chess with him, since Ron was now playing games of a far more adult nature; a nice witch, or even muggle (or anyone for that matter), to curl up with in front of the fire in the evening. A girl to talk to and kiss and…stuff. But no such girl was to be found. All this, of course, was responsible for the quivering heap of Harry in Seamus' arms.

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Much, much later that night five boys could be found tucked up in their beds. Harry was curled in a tight ball, a habit picked up from his early years in a cupboard. Ron was spread flat out on his back, snoring loudly. Dean was lying quietly asleep and Seamus was letting out high pitched little squeaks every now and again. Neville, who was the only one awake, assumed he was having a very good dream. Neville's bed was on the far wall, near to the window, and he was clutching at the side of his bed, silently cursing Ron with every snore he made.

Suddenly there came a sound which made Neville sit bolt upright in his bed. A strange squeaky scraping was coming from the window. With everything he had in him, he prayed it wasn't bats. Screechy, horrible, black bats with horrible wings and fangs. Nervously he, ever so slowly, turned his head to face the window. There were no curtains, but at first he couldn't see anything. Then, something caught his eye. In the uppermost left hand corner of the window was someone's head. Someone's blond head. Upside down.

He screamed. Shrilly, loudly, but he couldn't help it. After all no one expects a blond head to be hanging upside down in front of their window, especially not a blond, rich Slytherin head. Seamus woke up immediately with a jittery sort of movement that comes with too much adrenaline. 'What?'

'Who's screaming?' Neville saw that Ron had rolled over on to his side and opened his eyes. Then with a curious sort of splintering sound, cracks began spreading all over the window before it just seemed to fluidly collapse into a pile of glass on the floor. Dean was also awake by this time, and all the boys, save Harry who was blinking his eyelids very rapidly, scrambled out of their beds to see a curious figure enter the room. He entered from high up in a strange swooping motion which made all the boys wonder how he had gone from the ceiling to the floor in such a short period of time. The figure was familiar, and yet, not. Its blond locks were familiar, as was the pale skin and the fine, aristocratic features; but the glow that surrounded the figure differentiated him from every other person the boys had ever seen. He seemed to be breathing deeply, strongly…deliberately.

'M..M..Malfoy!' Seamus stuttered out in disbelief. Draco Malfoy didn't answer, didn't respond. Just stood there breathing deeply. Ron was slowly turning the deep red associated with Weasley anger and, just as Harry was pushing himself up into a sitting position, he strode up to Draco spitting out, 'What the hell Malfoy? If you think you can just…' But he was abruptly cut off just as he raised his fist by Malfoy sending a wave of magic around the room. Immediately Ron could feel himself start to rise in the air and, looking around him and yelping in rather an undignified way, he could see Seamus, Dean and Neville doing the same thing. They didn't stop until they were pinned with their backs against the ceiling looking down at the figures below them.

Harry was just coming to consciousness. As with his luck, the extreme difficulty of waking Harry Potter up was a fact that exasperated his friends, particularly his room-mates. 'Harry! Help us! Or get a Professor or something.' Ron was yelling down with a frustration that could only come from needing the bathroom from several feet in the air. Harry looked around in bewilderment but saw no-one. Then he saw someone. A very magnificent, glowing someone, who was coming towards him with an expression of complete intoxication and determination.

His friends could only watch in horror as Harry was approached by Malfoy, who was clearly under the influence of something. 'Harry!' Ron shouted. 'Up here!' Harry shook his head slightly and looked up. But it was only for a second, because it was then that a hand ever so gently cupped his jaw and brought him to face it. The most gorgeous person that Harry had ever seen, who was staring into Harry's eyes. Glowing mercury eyes met viridian in an expression of complete adoration. And Harry could feel that the person would always love him, always want him, and never leave him alone.

All four boys on the ceiling were shouting down in frustration, outrage and, in Ron's case, desperation, but neither Harry nor Draco paid them any attention. Ron could see that Harry's eyes had taken on a sort of glazed quality. 'Malfoy's cast a spell on him.' He hissed to Seamus, who nodded and then went back to watching the figures below. Watching Seamus, Ron decided that he seemed to be enjoying this. Looking back down again he could see that Harry had sort of lain down and Draco was…sniffing him. The crook of his neck, his arms, his legs and…ok Ron did not need to see Draco Malfoy sniffing his friend there.

The four boys could hear Malfoy muttering, even crooning, something in a language none of them could understand. And Harry seemed to respond to it, blushing or moving slightly whenever Malfoy said something. Occasionally Harry would reach out to touch Malfoy lightly on the arm or on his brow. And Malfoy would respond feverishly. Gasping and crooning even more frantically. It made Ron feel sick. It made Seamus feel horny. The four boys were beginning to think it was continue like this for the rest of the night, when they noticed Malfoy seemed to be aiming for a particular part of Harry's body. And it was not the one Seamus would have preferred it to be.

Finally the back of Harry's neck was revealed to Draco. He licked it once and Harry shuddered. So did Ron, but that was for a different reason. Then, swiftly and determinedly Draco bit Harry. Hard. Harry's eyes shot open wide as they filled in white and glowing with magic. And he screamed silently.