[personal profile] valentine_veela
Title: Animal Attraction
Author: [personal profile] tari_sue
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Prompt #: 126
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 19.5k
Summary: A hex gone wrong turns Draco from one of the world’s most despised wizards into the Ministry’s most desirable Veela. Now all he has to do is learn to control Veela Allure gone haywire, try to find a cure and avoid Harry Potter in the mean time.
Warning(s): (highlight to read) *Nothing to worry about here, just sex between 2 consenting adult males*
Beta: The wonderful [personal profile] the_gubette, thank you so much my lovely!
Author's Note: This is for the lovely, beautiful and gorgeous [personal profile] bootsy_mine, thank you so much for this fabulous prompt, I hope this fic is ok for you! Also thanks to [personal profile] the_gubette for betaing this and correcting all my stupid mistakes, and for allowing this fic into the fest over a month late!
Disclaimer: This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK 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 offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.



“Malfoy? Hey, Malfoy! Stop!” Draco could tell by the tone of the man’s voice that stopping would not be a good idea.

“I know you, you’re that Malfoy kid. Oy, stop, I’m talking to you!” Draco upped his pace, pretending he hadn’t heard the man as he hurried down the alleyway. If he could just get out onto the main street where there would be more people, witnesses to whatever revenge this man felt he had to take.

There were far too many people in the world with a score to settle from the war, people who thought they’d take it out on the youngest Malfoy; the easiest target. In the eight years since the war, he’d been hexed with boils no fewer than six times; warts four times; hair-loss twice; jelly-legs more times than he could count; a plague of hornets once and a penis-shrinking spell once – although admittedly that last one had been the work of an ex-boyfriend he’d accused of being crap in bed, and fortunately it had worn off quickly. He’d had mud, rotten doxy eggs and wartcap bombs thrown at him in the street, he’d been punched in the nose, tripped, shoved and had numerous insults thrown at him. A lesser man would have left England and fled for France. Draco Malfoy was not a lesser man. He turned the corner and hurried down a side alley.

“It’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you, Malfoy.” The man overtook him and blocked his path, just feet from the throng of Diagon Alley. He was unkempt and unwashed; Draco took a step back. “Swaning about like nothing’s happened. Like your lot didn’t destroy people’s lives.”

“I don’t know what you think I’ve done to you, but I assure you I probably haven’t.” Draco took another step back. He glanced up the street to where the throng of shoppers were going about their daily business; nobody had noticed them.

“Don’t play the bloody innocent with me, Malfoy, I remember you from Hogwarts, I was a few years below you in Hufflepuff. Don’t suppose you remember me though, Kevin Whitby? ‘Mudblood’, you’d have called me, if you could be bothered to acknowledge my existence at all. Your lot carted me and my sister off when we went back to school in sixth year. They did experiments on us, said we’d ‘stolen magic’ and they wanted it back. Turned Annette into a squib, the shock killed her.” By this time he had Draco backed up against a wall, his breath sour in Draco’s face.

“That had nothing to do with me!” Draco protested.

“No? Always thought you were better than everyone else, didn’t you? And you were one of Umbridge’s minions. And if you hadn’t killed Dumbledore…”

“I didn’t kill him!” Draco protested, but Whitby ignored him.

“If you hadn’t killed Dumbledore, then they wouldn’t have got into the school, Annette would still be alive, I’d have a life.” There was a dangerous, mad sort of glint in Whitby’s eye now as his big sweaty palm pushed against Draco’s chest, grabbing a fistful of his robe and holding him in place. “And yet here you are, posh job, posh robes. No payback at all, eh?”

“What do you mean, no payback? Do you have any idea what it was like having Voldemort in our house? He tortured us on a daily basis!” Draco tried to wriggle out of the man’s hold, but only succeeded in ripping his own robe as the grip tightened.

“That was your own fault, shouldn’t have invited him in, should you?” He shoved Draco back, making his skull connect with the wall.

He cried out in pain, attempting to manoeuvre his hand up to rub at his head. “You can’t blame every bad thing on me! Look, I’m really sorry about your sister, but it is not my fault!”

“Not your fault?” Whitby shook him. “Not your fault I had ‘dirty blood’? Not your fault you always looked down your pure-blood nose as us? How would you like it, Malfoy? How would you like it if people looked down their noses at you?” Bits of saliva flew out and hit Draco across the cheek.

“You honestly think we’ve had it easy? My mother won’t leave the house, my father doesn’t know what day of the week it is and I get attacked by nutters like you!” He shoved at the other man’s chest trying to dislodge him.

“Are you sure the Malfoys have nothing to hide?” Whitby continued as though Draco hadn’t said or done anything. “No Mudbloods in your ancestry? Shall we find out?” Whitby raised his wand and pressed the tip to Draco’s skull, hissing out a spell that he couldn’t make out the words of.

Draco’s blood was on fire, it felt like his brain was trying to escape through the top of his head. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He vaguely registered Whitby shaking him, a look of horror on his face, saying words that he couldn’t understand, before blackness took him.


* * *



Draco walked into a strange room. There was an ugly old patched sofa in varying shades of green. A man was sitting on the sofa, facing away from Draco toward some sort of large, glowing rectangle with images playing, a bit like a weird pensive. Without quite knowing why, Draco crossed the room and sat down beside the man.

“Mr. Malfoy?” a woman’s voice said from somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint. He looked around and then decided to ignore it.

“Mr Malfoy. It’s time to wake up.” The voice came again and Draco felt a sudden jolt. He glanced down and found the room was starting to fade away. In a panic, he suddenly realised that he’d completely failed to look at his companion at all. He glanced up and found himself looking straight into the face of a brown-eyed woman.

“Easy, Mr Malfoy,” she said gently.

He glanced around in confusion at what now appeared to be a hospital room and tried to sit up. Almost immediately, he fell back against the bed, clutching his head.

A dull but insistent throb took up residence inside his skull, and his skin was itching all over. He felt like he was on fire. He pushed the bed sheets back and glanced over at the closed window.

The brown-eyed woman drew her wand and started running what he thought he recognised as diagnostic spells. “You’re in St Mungo’s. You were brought straight to the hospital. Your attacker doesn’t seem to have done much damage. However, I'm afraid we didn’t realise you were a Veela, and you had an allergic reaction to the initial potions we gave you; that’s what caused the rash. I need to run a few tests, but it should be temporary.” Draco was so busy trying to will the window open that he nearly missed the important part of her last statement.

“I’m not a Veela,” he said, slowly, scratching at his arm.

“Hey, I know pure-bloods can be funny about that sort of thing, but you can’t fool your Healer.” She glanced up at him with a small smile. “Although I would appreciate it if you could turn down the Allure a little, it’s starting to affect the other patients.” She wasn’t really paying attention to him, too busy writing notes about him.

“No, seriously, I’m not Veela!” Draco exclaimed in frustration, trying to get her to at least look at him. All he succeeded in doing was making his head throb more. “ And I’m not doing anything to affect your patients,” he protested weakly.

“You’re talking to the witch who did your DNA analysis after you reacted to the drugs, I know exactly what percentage of Veela blood you have.” She looked up and frowned at him like he was a naughty child telling lies.

“That would be zero!”

“Not even close. Please desist with this, Mr Malfoy. The tests don’t lie, and seriously, what’s so very awful about having Veela blood?” She shook her head and went back to her notes.

“Do it again.”

“What?”

“The DNA analysis spell, do it again. You must have done it wrong,” he sneered at her, clutching his forehead.

“I don’t need to do it again, I’m perfectly capable of doing my job,” she replied, coldly. “Anyway, you responded to the Veela potions.”

“Please, just do it again – I swear to you, I am not Veela!” Once again he attempted to sit up, ignoring the pain this time.

“As you wish.” She did a complicated wand swish and muttered a spell and a chart appeared in front of him. “Ninety-four per cent Veela, six per cent human. Happy now? I don’t like to say I told you so, but that percentage is pretty high.”

“High? It’s impossible!” Draco could feel himself starting to hyperventilate now.

“It happens.” She shrugged. “Veela are beautiful, men are weak, presto, you get a baby Veela. Although I’d say there haven’t been any actually witches or wizards in your family for quite some time.”

“Is my wallet around?” He looked about him. “It should have my Ministry ID card in it. That will quite clearly tell you that I have no Veela blood.”

The healer picked up his coat from the chair and took out his wallet, aiming her wand at his ID card to extract the information she wanted. A puzzled frown crossed her face before she looked back up at him. “Would you excuse me, please? I’ll be right back.” She hurried out.


* * *



It was the same room, the same sofa, the same glowing picture box on the wall. Again, Draco walked over and sat down next to the man. He was just turning his head to see him better when he awoke in a cold sweat back in the hospital.

“Mr Malfoy? How are you feeling?” The Healer from earlier came into the room with a colleague close behind.

“Oh, you know, brilliant,” he snarled at her. “My head hurts, my skin itches, I feel horribly hot and I can’t get the window to open. On top of all that, you keep telling me I’m a Veela. I’m really just peachy.” He’d gone past the point of trying to be nice to anyone. He’d been poked and prodded and had wands waved over him for the best part of the day, and at the same time they all seemed to be doing their best to ignore him.

“We think the hex that was thrown at you was supposed to reveal any non-wizard blood you might have had,” she told him. “It looks like a variation of a spell developed by the Ministry when Voldemort was in power.” Draco couldn’t help the small shudder that passed through him at the mention of that name. The Healer continued, “However, the spell seems to have gone wrong somehow and your attacker has managed to achieve the impossible. Rather than simply revealing non-wizard genes, he seems to have managed to reverse them – the relatively tiny amount of Veela DNA you did have has been swapped with the human DNA.”

“What?” He sat up. “What Veela DNA? What are you talking about?”

“Well, originally you were about six per cent Veela, the rest was pure-blood wizard. Now it’s the other way around.” She frowned, evidently upset that someone had performed magic she didn’t understand. “We’ve run the tests repeatedly, but we keep getting the same result – he’s managed to change your species.”

“I don’t have any Veela blood – I come from a very old and powerful pure-blood family!”

“We spoke to your mother, she claimed you were about six per cent Veela on your father’s side.” She checked her notes. “A Great-Great-Grandmother, I think.”

“Oh merciful Merlin.” He put his face in his hands and then looked back up suddenly. “I’m not going to suddenly grow wings and a beak or crap like that am I?”

“No, you haven’t changed physically and as you didn’t have any of those attributes beforehand, you should be quite safe. You do seem to have acquired the Veela Allure in full force, however, so getting girlfriends should suddenly become lot easier.”

“So, if this was caused by a hex, and I’m not a proper Veela, change me back.”

“It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. We don’t actually know what your attacker did wrong in his original casting, therefore reversing the impossible is impossible. We need to run some more tests, see what we can come up with.” She was looking at him like he was some sort of fascinating bug.

“You’re not doing anything more to me. I’m going home.” He swung his legs out of the bed.

“Mr Malfoy, I really wouldn’t advise…”

“I. Don’t. Care. I’m going home. I need to speak to my parents. I just want to go home!” Draco was starting to hyperventilate a little now. He’d be damned if he was going to be stopped by anyone.

“Fine, I’ll discharge you if you agree to see a mind-Healer as an outpatient.” She fixed him with a glare.

“I don’t need a mind-Healer. I’m not mad, this is really happening.” He glared back.

“Yes, and Healer Boot, who is our foremost expert on Veela, will be able to help you cope with this major change in your life.” She wasn’t letting up on this.

“I don’t need to learn how to be a Veela, I’m going to find the cure and then I won’t be a Veela any more.” Draco looked around for his robes, spying them folded over the back of a chair.

“Well, until you find that cure, you’ll need to visit Healer Boot once a week. Otherwise I’m going to have to have you committed to the Janus Thickey ward until you get that Allure under control.” She folded her arms and simply looked at him.

“Fine! I’ll visit the stupid Healer. Give me my wand back.” He held out his hand and she grinned, pulling his wand out of her pocket.


* * *



Here he was again. He walked into the room and sat on the sofa, his hand falling to the seat beside him. The man next to him quietly placed his over Draco’s, and – nothing. That was it, no conversation, no other acknowledgement at all. Draco didn’t even know what the man looked like. It was the same dream every night, although the hand thing was new. The erection he woke up with wasn’t.


* * *



“Veela, Father?” Draco stared Lucius down. He’d been home for nearly three days and had spent most of that time researching in the library at the Manor and talking to his mother. This was the first time his father had been lucid enough to give a response.

“Hmm?” Lucius gave him a vacant stare. He’d been like this since he was attacked five years ago, just before his trial. The Healers thought the attack, coupled with all the abuse suffered at the hands of Voldemort, had affected his mind, causing him to retreat in on himself. His attackers had never been caught.

“Veela blood, apparently going back to Great-Great-Grandmother Arial? Don’t try and pretend you didn’t know. Why didn’t you think to tell me?” Narcissa’s pet kneazle, which had been following Draco around ever since he’d come back from St Mungo’s, prowled into the room and immediately started rubbing itself up and down on Draco’s legs, getting hair all over his trousers. It was like the stupid creature thought he was made of kneazlenip or something! He resisted the urge to kick it; his mother would never forgive him.

“Oh, Draco, how nice to see you back.” Lucius turned his vacant stare out the window.

“Listen to me, you old bastard,” Draco said quietly as he sidestepped the cat and leant in over his father. “Mother might be too nice to have you committed, but I’m not. Now, answer me.”

Lucius started to hum quietly to himself.

“You’re forgetting one major fact here,” Draco hissed in his ear. “I know you’re faking. How long do you think you’d last in a hospital before they figured that out, hmm? How fast before you found yourself back in Azkaban?” He was bluffing; he’d always suspected Lucius was putting this whole thing on to keep himself out of prison, but he had no evidence and the performance was very convincing.

Lucius’s grey eyes turned to him, Draco was sure there was a knowing glint in their depths that hadn’t been there a moment before. “You look so like my mother, do you know her?” Lucius asked, innocently.

“Yes, father, I knew my grandmother, just as you knew yours. You knew your Great-Grandmother too, didn’t you? Tell me about Arial.” The kneazle suddenly jumped up onto Lucius’s lap and began sniffing Draco’s face. He leapt back in revulsion; the creature had a profound love of licking it’s own testicles.

“Arial? I used to have a Granny Arial, such a pretty name. She always used to tell me, one day you’ll dream of your true mate and move heaven and earth to make that person yours. Do you dream of your mate, Draco?” Dream of his mate? What bollocks was this now? Surely to Merlin he wasn’t supposed to have ‘one true mate’ or such crap as that? An image of a faceless man sitting on an ugly green sofa flew into his mind.

“Is that a Veela thing?” He blurted out, cursing himself for looking vulnerable in front of Lucius.

“Draco?” Lucius’s stare had turned vacant again. “How nice to see you back. Have you had a good term? Have Dobby bring me some earl grey, there’s a good boy.”

“No, Father, you were talking about Granny Arial,” Draco growled in frustration.

“Granny Arial? Good heavens, Draco, Granny died years ago.”

“Was she a Veela?”

Lucius started humming again. Draco went back to speak to his mother, making sure to trap the cat in the room with Lucius.


* * *



Draco walked into the room and sat down next to the man, who quietly placed his hand over Draco’s, and laced their fingers together. There was nothing about this stupid dream to make him so fucking horny.


* * *



His first week back at work went badly.

Everything with a pulse seemed to want him, and it wasn’t restricted to the human race, or even human-like creatures! Narcissa’s kneazle was only the first in a long line of creatures that now thought Draco was the cat’s pyjamas. There were the house-elves, the peacocks at the manor, the crups the Aurors used for tracking, the mail owls, the goblins in Gringotts, a niffler and some freaky thing that had escaped from the Department of Mysteries that he had had to be rescued from. An Auror who was a dog Animagus had tried to hump his leg (whilst still in dog form) and as for the humans, well less said the better, but he wasn’t taking the lift anymore.

He’d had several run-ins with Percy Weasley, because the little jobs-worth wanted him to fill out forms, and Percy had actually attempted to lick his face – revolting! He was feeling strangely territorial and had literally picked Percy up and thrown him out of his office because not only could he not bear to be near him, but it strangely bothered him having someone else in his personal space. He’d bumped into Old Man Weasley once in the canteen, but fortunately he had rather more self-control and didn’t seem affected. He’d seen the Weasel once walking down a corridor, but they’d both suddenly remembered that they really wanted to walk the other way, so that was fine.

Of course, he’d run into Potter on the stairs. It was quite disturbing, the man had actually smiled at him and said hello. Draco had mumbled hello back and fled back to his office – the last thing he needed was Potter coming on to him, not like this. He’d fancied Potter since school, he didn’t think he could cope with the man suddenly showing an interest just because of the Veela Allure.

It certainly didn’t help that since this Veela incident, he seemed to be horny all the time.

At least he had his own office to hide in and research a way to reverse this Veela crap.


* * *



Draco must have stood outside the door to the Magical Being Division of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for at least ten minutes before venturing inside. The problem was, he felt that once he went in he was admitting defeat. As soon as he let someone help him deal with the whole ‘Veela thing’, not only would he be admitting that it had happened, but letting someone ‘help him to cope’ with it would be like giving up on finding a cure – and Draco was quite adamant that he could find a cure.

Sighing to himself, he went in. It was much quieter in here than most of the Ministry, a simple corridor with a few doors on either side. Taking another deep breath, he knocked on a door marked ‘Psych: Healer Boot’ and turned the handle.

Walking into the office, he stopped dead. There was a familiar head of frizzy brown hair searching through a filing cabinet behind what appeared to be a secretary’s desk. Draco briefly considered turning around and walking straight back out again, but then the head turned toward him to reveal that he was quite correct and this was indeed Hermione Granger.

“Hello, Malfoy,” she said, turning back to the files in her hand. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

“It’s all right, I have an appointment with Healer Boot,” Draco muttered in response. “I do hope it’s not that know-it-all tosser from school.”

“Which ‘know-it-all tosser’ would that be, exactly?” She sat back on her heels and Draco suddenly realised she was fairly heavily pregnant.

“You know, Boot, in our year, Ravenclaw…” he scrabbled around for a name, exclaiming in relief when it finally came to him, “…Tony. Can I help you up?” He crossed over and offered her his hand, the manners his mother had drummed into him as a child suddenly coming into play.

“Ah, that know-it-all tosser. Well, you’re in luck, it’s not him; that particular Healer Boot works in Spell Damage over in St Mungo’s.” She put the files and the desk and used his arm to heave herself upright. “Your appointment is with his wife.” She gathered the files together and walked around the desk and over to the door to the inner office. “You’d better come in.” She held the door open.

“Will she be long?” Draco asked, peering past her.

“Who?” Granger ushered him in and shut the door.

“Healer Boot,” Draco said with a sudden sense of foreboding.

“She’s here,” Granger said with a tight smile, confirming Draco’s fears. “I’ll be sure to pass on your regards to ‘that know-it-all-tosser’, my husband, Terry.”

“You married Boot? What about the Weasel?”

“Ron? Bless him, is a sweet and lovely man, but he and I weren’t exactly suited – not everyone marries their childhood sweetheart you know.” She gave him that condescending smile that had made him hate her so much at school.

“I thought you were the secretary,” Draco said, mainly to annoy her.

“No, I’m afraid I sent Brian for a late lunch to avoid you – he’s rather susceptible to Veela Allure, which doesn’t make this a good place for him to work really.” The last was said in one of those ‘between you and me’ type voices that Draco wasn’t sure he wanted from Granger.

“Isn’t everyone susceptible?” he pointed out. “I don’t seem to be able to move without getting molested – even the post owls keep jumping me.”

“Actually, a small percentage of people are naturally immune to Veela Allure, you may have noticed that I am not attracted to you in the slightest, which is why you landed me as your Healer. It is also possible to develop or learn an immunity.” She took out a notepad and started writing.

“I had noticed that it affects some people less than others, but I avoid the majority of people. Sometimes it seems better than others too, I hoped it was wearing off.” He found it rather disconcerting that she made notes on what he said.

“Wearing off? That seems unlikely. People will be affected more or less depending on how attracted they would have been to you in the first place, for example a completely straight bloke or gay woman would be hardly affected at all because there is simply no way they’d ever fancy you. What exercises have you been doing to get the Allure under control?”

“Exercises? I wasn’t aware I should be doing any.” He tried not to show any interest, what use would these exercises be once he was back to normal? He would dearly love to be able to control it though.

“Of course there are, how else do you think Veela learn to control the Allure so they can move about in society? Of course, normally they’d have started learning this at puberty rather than at twenty-nine. Surely, you must have researched this?” She passed him some leaflets.

“I’ve been concentrating more on how to stop being a Veela than on how to cope with it,” he replied as he looked at the material.

“How to stop being a Veela? It’s not something you can just stop, it’s what you are!” she said with an incredulous sort of half-laugh.

“It’s not what I was a few weeks ago when I ‘just stopped’ being human.” He raised his eyebrow at her. “If I can be turned into a Veela, I must be able to turn back again. I’m not going to put up with this nonsense.” He went back to the leaflet in his hand.

“Malfoy, from your notes it would appear that the hex that originally hit you was a fluke, reversing it would be nearly impossible.” She sounded like she was ‘trying to be reasonable’.

“Nearly impossible is not the same as actually impossible,” he sneered at her. “It must be possible, it happened. I will find a way of changing back.”

“Fine, you do that, but until then you need to learn to live with being a Veela.” She folded her arms in front of her. Granger, as he remembered all too clearly, didn’t like to be disagreed with.

“So give me basics,” he said, waving the leaflets at her. “The bare minimum of what I need to know to get by. How do I stop everything with a pulse from trying to mate with me? And for that matter how do I stop feeling so bloody horny?” Her blush pleased him, so long as she was more embarrassed than he was, he was happy.

“Well, I can show you some exercises to help you learn how to control the Allure. Most Veela grow up doing this, so that by the time they’re your age, and their Allure is this strong, they can turn it on or off at will. Your Allure seems to be permanently stuck on the highest setting, it’s affecting most of the Ministry. Your hormones probably think you should be mated by now.” Her clear gaze let him know he was being taunted back.

“This all seems rather pointless though,” he narrowed his eyes at her. “If you were to help me find a cure instead of wasting our time with this, then I wouldn’t have this stupid Veela Allure and I wouldn’t need to learn how to deal with it.”

“How about you just humour the pregnant lady?” she said, scribbling down more notes. “You come here, once a week, and learn how to cope with being a Veela, and I’ll do some research in my spare time to try and help you reverse the spell.”

“Will you have any spare time?” He gestured to her bulge. “You look like you’re about to drop.”

“Oh, I have a few months to go yet.” She grinned at him. “And maternity leave sounds so boring. So, shall we get on?” She held out her hand for him to shake on the deal.

“Get on? Us? I suppose there is a first time for everything.” He took her hand.


* * *



A few weeks later, Draco decided that hiding in his office wasn’t doing him any good. He usually tried to avoid places with lots of people, but the Ministry canteen was one of the few places in the building above ground level, and it had real windows with real sunlight coming through them. He found he craved real sunlight more than ever now. He sat in the far corner with a book, trying to avoid everyone.

“Harry!” Draco glanced up and groaned as a familiar redheaded woman made her way across the canteen.

“Hey, Gin!” Potter got up from his lunch and hugged her, laughing. “When did you get back?”

Plonking herself down onto the chair beside his and stealing one of his chips, Ginny shrugged. “Oh, you know, ‘tomorrow’!” she said with a laugh.

Draco scowled at them. What made Potter think the whole canteen wanted to listen to his ridiculous conversation? He hadn’t even realised that Potter and Weasley were still together, in fact, last he heard, Potter played for the same team he did – and oh, but did he wish he’d been nicer to Potter at school when he’d heard that juicy little titbit.

He turned his glare on his lunch as he pushed it around his plate, deliberately tuning out the female Weasel going on about some hen do in Barcelona. Chicken salad. Yuk. Sighing, he abandoned his pathetic lunch and decided to go back up to his office, he was sick of all the stares he attracted anyway.

“… gorgeous!” The whisper caught his attention as he neared Potter and the Weaselette.

“Huh?” Potter was giving his girlfriend a puzzled frown.

“He’s gorgeous! He never looked like that in school. Oh my goodness, he’s coming this way! How do I look?” She patted down her hair and adjusted her top.

“You look beautiful, like always. What about Ben?” Potter put his hand on her arm in an attempt to stop her getting off the bench.

“Hmm? Ben who?” She shook Potter’s hand off and got up, stepping into Draco’s path. “Hi, Draco! How are you?” she simpered, batting her eyelashes. “Did you know I’ve been chosen as Seeker for England in the next World Cup?”

“No, Weasley, I didn’t know you were still playing. Afternoon, Potter.” Malfoy nodded at them and made to walk around her.

“Of course, I’ll have to take a break from my modelling career to do it, but hey, there are only so many photo shoots you can do before it gets boring, right?” Ginny stepped in front of him again and gave what she obviously thought was a winning smile.

“Um, hey, Malfoy. Did you hear I got promoted?” Potter cut in, fixing Draco with those penetrating green eyes. Great, that was all he needed.

“Oh not you too, Potter! Promoted to what, king of the world?” Draco said with a sneer before pushing past Weasley and stalking out.

“What in the hell was all that about?” He heard Potter ask as he walked away.


* * *



Draco’s day went from bad to worse.

He’d walked down the stairs to get back to the Department of Magical Games and Sports on the seventh floor, having learnt quite quickly that being in a lift with people trying to molest him was not a good idea. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been the only person taking the stairs. Overweight Stebbins from the Portkey Office had been taking the stairs in an attempt to gain some exercise, and he had nearly fallen down the stairs whilst trying to impress Draco with a manly display of how fast he could run up them. Draco had stepped over him and hurried away.

He got back to his office to find Vicky Frobisher from the Ludicrous Patents office, draped across his desk in what he supposed was sexy underwear, except he wasn’t sure because he’d never found any woman sexy, no matter what she wore, but especially not in her underwear. She had gone home in a flood of tears because he’d hastily thrown her clothes at her and shoved her out of his office instructing her to never come back. Then his boss, Terence Higgs, had blamed Draco for the incident, demanding that he keep his next appointment with Healer Boot to try and get his Veela Allure under control – he’d managed to miss the last appointment by claiming to be ill.

Next there was the second desk – the one that had appeared in his office along with some boxes and a plant. When he’d stormed back into Higgs’s office and demanded an explanation, he’d been casually told that he’d have to share his office with someone from MLE due to some sort of contamination closing off the whole second floor. No amount of arguing and tantrum throwing had succeeded in getting the desk removed.

The damned plant was still there, invading his office with its big shiny leaves. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much.

In the afternoon he attended a meeting with the French Minister for Sport, who had professed his undying love for Draco in front of Ron Weasley, who had found the whole thing hilarious, and Percy Weasley, who’d looked like he might leap across the desk and throttle Monsieur Laurent with his bare hands.

When he’d gone back to his office again the plant was still there, taunting him.

It was actually a rather nice plant. It had big shiny leaves and the beginnings of a white flower peaking through. This new person should not have the plant. He really should be marking out his territory, let them know whose office it really was.


* * *



He lasted until evening. Everyone else had gone home about an hour before and Draco, who’d stayed late trying to catch up on his work, was quite determined to mark that plant, and therefore the whole office as his territory before the interloper showed up tomorrow. As he really should have expected, knowing his luck, the office door banged open just as he was unbuttoning his fly. A walking stack of boxes and files came through the door.

Draco jumped and made an undignified squeak, causing the files and boxes to tumble out of the arms of the one and only Harry Potter. Paper, pens and various other items spilled out all over the floor.

“Potter!” Draco exclaimed, quickly re-buttoning his fly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, I’m moving in.” Harry knelt down and started to pick up his stuff. “I tried to tell you earlier.” Potter glanced up at Draco and then at the plant, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m not being funny here, but please tell me you weren’t about to pee on my Japanese Peace Lily.”

“What? No, of course not! Whatever gave you that idea?” He could feel the blush rising up his face.

“Oh, nothing. You missed a button, by the way.” Potter smirked. Draco looked down and checked his fly, which was fine. “Made you look,” Potter laughed out loud, ignoring the daggers Draco was trying to shoot into him as he gathered up the files.

“I don’t understand. What are you doing here?” Draco whined, staring at Potter’s arse. “Aurors don’t need offices, you should be out catching criminals all day.”

“New Head of C-Division, at your service,” Potter said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “As a Division Head, I get an office so I can plan how we go out and catch the criminals. Don’t worry, I will be out and about a lot of the time, and it’s only until the poisonous gas is dealt with – a month tops.”

“Poisonous gas? I know the Auror Department is a fleapit, but poisonous gas?”

“There was a crate of enchanted fireworks in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, when they tried to take off the spell it exploded, landing Arthur Weasley in St Mungo’s for the night.” Potter’s shirt rode up as he reached over for a stray report, displaying a rather nice expanse of back.

“But surely you could go back now?” he asked, desperate for Potter not to be in his office for the next month.

“No, it turns out the smoke they gave off has hallucinogenic properties, we all spent a day high as kites before they closed off the department. We have to wait for it to dissipate before we’re allowed back in. Oh, and Arthur’s fine by the way, thanks for asking.” Potter grabbed the last of his junk from beside Draco’s foot, his knuckles just scraping the leather of his boot.

“Are there no other offices you could invade? Why did it have to be mine?” he asked, petulantly, convinced he could feel his foot tingling from Potter’s touch.

“Trust me, Malfoy, I didn’t get a choice in this either. There are quite a lot of us suddenly officeless. I drew the short straw and got lumbered with you and there is nothing either of us can do about it.” Potter stood up and put the rest of his belongings down on the desk.

“You could have done that with magic, you know.” Draco said snidely, trying to hide the fact that he’d been admiring Potter’s pert bum as he bent down in those fitted Muggle ‘jean’ things he wore.

“I know.” Potter shrugged, then brightened up a bit. “Are you finished for the evening? Why don’t you come and get something to eat with me?”

“Potter,” Draco said rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Are you asking me out?”

“I just wondered if you fancied getting some food. If we have to share an office for the next month we might as well try to get along, don’t you think?”

“Look, Potter, you hate me, ok. I know it may not seem like that right now, but you do, trust me on this.” Draco sat back down at his desk to show Potter that he had no intention of going anywhere with him.

“Hate might be a bit strong, Malfoy! School was years ago, we’ve all changed, how about second chances?” Potter gave him a hesitant grin.

“I have to go. Good night.” Draco said coldly, returning his attention to the report he’d been writing before that plant had got the better of him. He heard Potter sigh and leave the room.


* * *



Draco had a morning routine. He got up, had a coffee and croissant and flicked through the paper. Then he had a long, hot shower before selecting his outfit for the day. When he got into work, at precisely half past eight, he liked to lock himself in his office with his second cup of coffee and his correspondence and allow himself to wake up. Draco got very upset if his morning routine was disturbed, and he didn’t like anyone to speak to him until he’d finished his second cup of coffee.

When he arrived at work on Monday morning, however, he discovered his favourite cup was missing and he had to have his coffee out of a generic Ministry cup with a generic Ministry chip out of it. When he got to his office, Potter was already there, sitting on his perfect arse with his legs resting on the new desk with a cup of coffee in his stupid hands; in Draco’s mug.

“That,” Draco stated, pointing at the offending item, “is mine.”

“Oh, erm, do you want it back?” Potter shifted awkwardly, moving his feet to the floor and adjusting his glasses.

“Why would I want it back? Your mouth has touched it; I shall have to thoroughly disinfect it before I can ever use it again. Don’t you have mugs in the Auror department?” He scowled as he made his way over to his desk and deposited his chipped mug on a Falmouth Falcons coaster.

“The Auror department is staffed by mugs,” Potter quipped with a grin. “So, you don’t want this back, then?” He took another sip from Draco’s mug.

“No, I might catch something.” Draco couldn’t help but notice that Potter was rather attractive when he smiled.

“Suit yourself.”

Draco sat down, noting that the Veela Allure didn’t seem to be having any affect on Potter at the moment. As Potter had made two rather poor attempts a flirting with him yesterday, even going as far as asking him out, which he would never do under normal circumstances. Draco could only deduce that he somehow had the Allure under control now. ‘Take that, Granger!’ he thought to himself. Who needed a Mind-Healer anyway? Not him.

At that moment, the morning post owl flew in through the door, gently depositing some mail in front of him before landing on his shoulder to nuzzle his ear.

“Since when are post owls so friendly?” Potter asked. “In fact, since when are owls allowed down here? I thought they all went to the post room.”

“Yeah, well, some of them forget and still come to the intended recipient,” Draco lied, sifting through the mail to see if any of it was for him. In truth, some of the owls kept coming to him with everyone’s mail and there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Here, this one’s for you.” He held out a letter to Potter. Without looking up, the lazy git summoned it rather than getting up and coming over. He gave the rest of the letters back to the owl and directed it to the post room.


* * *



“Hello, Draco. I just wanted you to know that I’m running for Minister in the next election, can I rely on your support?” Percy cornered Draco by the water cooler down the hall.

“Sorry, Weasley, I’m voting for Shacklebolt.” Draco tried to push past him without actually having to touch him.

“Did I tell you how handsome you’re looking today? I do think we’d make a wonderful couple.” Percy started walking beside him.

“Hmm, shame that would never happen, Weasley.”

“Draco,” Percy grabbed Draco’s arm. “Draco, give in to it, I know you can feel the chemistry betw— oh!” With one deft flick of his wrist, Draco upended his glass of ice-cold water down the front of Percy’s robe.

“Oops,” he said flatly, raising one eyebrow. Then, he turned on his heel and went back to the water cooler to get a fresh drink. Percy hurried off down the corridor looking confused and wet.

As Draco headed back into his office, he bumped into Potter coming out.

“Oh, Draco, hi,” Potter said, smiling brightly. “I was wondering if you’d like to come for a drink tonight? First day as roomies and all that.” He fiddled with his glasses.

“For goodness sake, Potter,” Draco growled at him. “Learn to take no for an answer, I do not want to go out with you, no now not ever. Now piss off and leave me alone!” He pushed past Potter to get into his office and slammed the door in the Auror’s surprised face.


* * *



Dream Draco sat down next to the dark-haired man, who placed his hand over Draco’s, and laced their fingers together. Then, he pulled Draco’s hand into his lap, and they just sat there, watching the pictures on the box.


* * *



Tuesday got off to a bad start. Draco awoke from the usual dream – the room, the sofa, the man with the black hair holding his hand – which left him feeling grumpy for some reason he couldn’t quite explain, and turned on as usual.

He got into work slightly earlier than usual only to find his mug missing once again. Hissing many uncomplimentary things about Potter, he brewed some fresh coffee and poured it into one of the skanky office mugs.

“Potter…” he started as he opened the door to his office. He stopped mid-stride – there was his coffee mug, sitting on his desk, full of hot steaming coffee.

“Peace offering,” Potter said with a shrug. “I was making a drink for myself so I made you one.” He indicated a bright red mug on his desk emblazoned with the words ‘Aurors do it…’ but Draco couldn’t work out what Aurors did because the words carried on around the other side of the mug. Not that he wanted to know.

“You made me coffee? Why? When?” he inquired, incredulously.

“Um, about an hour ago, maybe. I thought we could bury the hatchet, so to speak, just while I’m invading your office. Don’t worry, I put it under a warming charm to keep it hot, and I scrubbed the mug clean to make sure you don’t catch any half-blood bugs off me,” Potter said, laughing. Potter looked good when he laughed.

“Scrubbed it clean, you say? You’d better not have taken the enamel off,” Draco snapped crossing to his desk and picking up the mug. He took his wand out and banished the contents before giving it a closer inspection.

“Hey!” Potter said indignantly. “I didn’t poison it you wanker, it was just a cup of coffee.”

“Potter, surely you know that placing coffee under a warming charm increases its carcinogenic properties; were you trying to kill me? What were you doing here so early anyway?” Draco glowered at Potter and tipped the fresh coffee from the other mug into his.

Before Potter could start arguing with him, the owl came in and started nuzzling Draco’s cheek. Five minutes after that, there was a tap at the door to announce yet another visit from Percy Weasley. Out of all the people who were suddenly madly in love with Draco, Percy was the most persistent – although, as he opened a singing card from the French Minister for Sport, there were a few contenders for that category. Draco blushed and crumpled the card up, trying to ignore Potter’s sniggering and Percy’s expression of outraged jealousy.

“Morning, gorgeous!” Weasley exclaimed, plonking himself on the letters on Draco’s desk.

“Go away, Weasley, I’m busy,” Draco said, concentrating very hard on sorting his mail from the pile that over-friendly-owl had brought rather than looking at Percy.

“Draco, I must say you look simply ravishing today. Do you like my new robes? I got Madame Malkin to make some up in the formal style, as it suits you so well,” Percy said as he perched on the edge of Draco’s desk and leaned in toward him.

“I wasn’t aware that I wore a ‘formal style’ of robe,” Draco replied without looking up. He sighed as he came across yet another memo from his head of department reminding him again of his two o’clock appointment with Healer Boot to discuss his unfortunate case of Veelaism. He supposed, what with Percy’s usual flirting and Potter making him coffee, maybe he didn’t have the Allure as much under control as he thought.

“Oh, really? Well maybe it’s just the way you wear them then, everything looks utterly divine on you.”

“Weasley, could you actually be any more smarmy? I haven’t had the chance to throw up my breakfast yet. What do you want?”

“You.” Percy actually reached over and ran a finger up Draco’s arm.

“Woah!” Draco snatched his arm away. “Don’t touch what you can’t afford, Weasley! What are you sniggering at, Potter?” He glanced over the other side of the room in irritation as Potter made an undignified snorting noise.

“Sorry, you sounded exactly like my cousin then, he always used to say that when we were at primary school.” Potter said, grinning.

“Your cousin? The Muggle? You’re comparing me to a Muggle?” Draco felt rather hurt at being compared to one of Potter’s horrible Muggle relatives.

“I would never compare you to a Muggle, Draco. An angel, yes; a Muggle, never!” Percy declared, shooting a disdainful look at Potter. He reached out like he was going to stroke Draco’s cheek and Draco jerked back quickly causing the owl on his shoulder, which he’d almost forgotten about, to lean down and nip Percy’s finger.

“I wouldn’t let your Dad hear you saying that about Muggles, Perce.” Potter said, giving Weasley an odd look as the redhead stuck his injured finger in his mouth.

“Weasley,” Draco said suddenly, a brainwave striking him. “Did you see this positively disgusting cup of coffee Potter made me?” Draco pushed his mug across the desk toward Percy.

“Hey!” Potter’s indignant voice cut in. Draco ignored him.

“I mean, it’s not just the warming charm the buffoon put on the coffee,” Draco continued as Percy spared a victorious smirk for Potter. “It’s also the fact that he used the mud-shavings the Ministry supplies in the disguise of coffee.” The smug look left Percy’s face and was replaced with a slightly guilty expression.

“I suppose I could always get you some coffee from the Minister’s private coffee machine. Between you and me, he gets a rather better brand of coffee.” Percy said in a conspiratorial voice, apparently forgetting the presence of the golden boy of the Auror department.

“You know, the best coffee I ever tried was in Florian’s, by St Mark’s Square in Venice. Of course, I wouldn’t expect to be able to get coffee like that here. Giovanni’s over in Soho make very good coffee though, don’t you think?” Draco graced Percy with a small smile.

“Giovanni’s? Oh, er, yes – excellent. Um, shall I fetch you a fresh coffee, Draco?” Percy asked eagerly, reaching out for Draco’s mug.

“You would do that for me?” Draco said, innocently. “That would be wonderful. Not in this mug, though. It’s been contaminated by Potter.”

“Ok, I’ll be back!” Percy hurried out of the office.

Draco watched Percy go, smirking with satisfaction and congratulating himself on a job well done. He glanced back to find Potter glaring at him.

“Oh lighten up, Potter! It got rid of Weasley, didn’t it?” He handed the rest of the mail back to the owl and got up to usher it out of the door. “Here’s your mail, sorry it’s a bit bent, Weasley sat on it.”

“That wasn’t even the coffee I made,” Potter said, sounding aggrieved.

“I know, but I wanted Weasley to leave,” Draco sighed.

“It was a bit mean though, sending him out for coffee.” Typical judgemental Potter.

“Especially from a coffee shop that doesn’t exist,” Draco smirked. “Unless he actually goes to Venice.”

“Why did you send him to a coffee shop that doesn’t exist?”

“I told you, so that he would bugger off and leave me alone!” He gathered the rest of the mail together and ushered the owl out of the door.

“I suppose he can be quite annoying.” Potter said, surprising Draco so much that he took a mouthful of coffee without thinking. “I didn’t know Percy was gay, though.”

“Either that or he’s doing a damn fine impression of it,” Draco muttered, taking a sip of his coffee without thinking. “Ugh, this is cold!” He got up and went to make a fresh coffee. For some reason, he made one for Potter too.


* * *



“Have you had any success with controlling the Allure since I last saw you? I assume you must have, as you missed our last appointment.” Granger glared at him from beneath her ridiculous frizz.

“I was sick,” he lied. “I think I can control the Allure a bit, but I don’t know how I’m doing it. The other morning I went for ages without a single person trying their luck, not even a certain person I work with who is normally affected, but by the afternoon every Tom, Dick and… er, Harry was asking me out.” He shrugged, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

“Well then, let’s start there, shall we?” She started making notes on her pad. “I’m assuming you don’t have a partner of any description?” Typical Granger, blunt and to point the as always. Not to mention right, why did she always have to be right?

“No,” Draco muttered through clenched teeth.

“Sorry, it’s just that Allure is supposed to be easier to control for a mated Veela, if you had someone you probably wouldn’t be having these problems.”

“Oh don’t you start too,” he groaned.

“Start what?

“The whole ‘mate’ thing. My father was rambling on about that. It’s not going to happen, I’m not getting saddled with someone just because of stupid Veela hormones.” He got up and started pacing around her office. “Once I find the cure it won’t be a problem, and I refuse to believe that not finding my ‘soul mate’ will make me suddenly lie down and die—”

“MALFOY!” Hermione cut in on his tirade. “For goodness sake, calm down. Modern research suggests that the whole ‘predestined mate’ thing is a total fallacy invented by romance novelists, and not having a mate certainly won’t kill you.” She rubbed her hand across her giant belly.

“Modern research? Conducted by…?” Draco sneered at her.

“Ok, me.” Her cheeks coloured and he felt guilty. “I mean to say, honestly, it’s the most ridiculous notion. What sort of race would survive where, according to popular myth, there are no males and they all have predestined mates, who could be anyone in the entire world, and if they don’t find them, they die?”

“So Veela don’t have mates? Because that’s not what my father said.” He sat back down and frowned at her.

“No offence, Malfoy, but last I heard your father should be on the Janus Thickey ward – unless it was all one big act for the Wizengamot?” She gave him a calculating look.

“No, I assure you, my father is a total basket-case, he was spouting nonsense about Veela after all.” Just because he had been harbouring suspicions about his father didn’t mean she could go around saying it.

“Veela don’t have pre-assigned mates, but they are a species designed to mate. Why don’t you just try going on a date – there are loads of people who’d be dying for the chance.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Draco replied, thinking back to Potter who had asked him out twice now.

“So, take one of them up on it.” She frowned like he was being deliberately obtuse.

“Look, Granger, or Boot or whatever, they don’t mean it, ok? It’s the Allure talking, once I’m better they will go back to looking at me with revulsion and claim I tricked them. No thanks.”

“Allure only works on feelings that are already there. They’d be attracted to you to some extent whatever species you were.”

“Right, so you’d be perfectly ok with me hooking up with someone who was under the influence of Veela Allure and not in their right mind? Because I don’t know that I would be all right with that.”

“That’s the accepted way of Veela finding their mate.”

“Not this Veela. What else can I do?”

Hermione sighed and pulled her notes toward her. “Tell me what Lucius had to say about Veela.”

“Apparently my great-great-great-grandmother was a Veela, that’s how the hex worked. She told my father when he was a child that a Veela will dream of their mate and move heaven and earth for them, or some tosh like that – I couldn’t get him to repeat it.”

“And have you dreamt of anyone?” she asked eagerly, sitting forward on her chair.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” he lied quickly. “You said yourself it was a myth.”

“And since when do you listen to what I say?”

“Since I don’t want a mate.” He folded his arms petulantly.

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t have a mate, I said there was no such thing as a pre-destined mate. Your mate will be more of your own choosing than that.” She scribbled some more notes about him, he really hated it when she did that.

“Then I chose not to have a mate.”

“It would be good for you, help you control the Allure. As a Veela, all your natural instincts are telling you to mate.” She didn’t look up from her notes as she spoke, Draco was feeling more and more like a case study.

“Mate with what? Some brain-dead sap who’s so enthralled that they don’t know what they’re doing? If I must end up with someone, then it won’t be because I’m some freaky Veela who is giving off enough pheromones to attract a horse!”

“A horse?” She gave a startled laugh and finally looked up.

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.” He could feel himself blushing. Why had he gone and told her that?

“All right, fine. Why don’t you want to attract a mate though? That’s the whole point of the Allure.”

“I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me, or indeed Slytherins in general, but I do draw the line at rape.” He got up and walked over to the fake window.

“It wouldn’t be rape, Draco. This is the accepted method of Veela mating.”

I’m not a Veela. No,” he held his hand up to stop the contradiction he could see forming on her lips, “don’t give me any of that bollocks about DNA, I’m not a Veela in here.” He tapped his head. “I was born a wizard, raised a wizard, taught as a wizard – all my values and ethics are wizarding ones and I can just switch that of because some bastard turned me into a Veela.”

“My mother would call that cutting off your nose to spite your face. It’s not rape, not if your partner is willing, and most people are more than willing to be the mate of a Veela.” She was watching him now, no doubt waiting to write down his response.

“They aren’t willing though, that’s the whole point! It’s no better than Amortentia, the victim doesn’t know what they are doing or what’s happening to them.” He got up and paced about.

“It’s not like that – a bond with a Veela is supposed to be a wonderful experience.”

“Right. And if I went and Enamoured one of your friends, what would you do then? If I messed around with Ginny Weasley would you simply say, ‘oh well, it’s all legal and above board’? No, thought not.” He turned his back on her and pretended to look out of the enchanted window.

“I’m not saying you should mess people around. If you follow your Veela instincts you could find a mate who is worthy of you, but that won’t happen while you are shutting everyone out. Besides, Ginny is a girl, and I think I’m right in saying you’re not looking for a female, and she’s engaged to someone else.”

“That didn’t stop them both coming on to me in the canteen the other day though, did it?”

“Both who?”

“Ginny Weasley and Potter.” He turned back round and glared at her.

“Harry came on to you?” She seemed a little too interested.

“Frequently; turns out Sparkly Veela Powers can even turn heroes into poofs.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I already told you, Veela Allure plays on attraction that’s already there – if there was no chance of that person ever being attracted to you then all the Allure in the world won’t make any difference. Besides, Harry’s not in need of any ‘Sparkly Veela Powers’ to turn him gay.” She did little air quotes.

“Are you outing your best friend to me?” He tried to ask it casually.

“Am I saying Harry’s gay? Of course he is! Skeeter writes about it often enough – all they need is a slow news day and they trot out some story on Harry’s love life.”

“I don’t read the Prophet, for some reason they don’t like me very much.” He shrugged.

“Anyway, stop changing the subject. Before you come back here next week, I want you to try and go out on a date. Your Allure is getting completely out of control, you need to do something about it.” She made another note in her book.

“I’m not sleeping with people on your say so.”

“I didn’t say sleep with them, just go out on a date.” She smiled at him; it was somewhat disturbing.


* * *



Draco’s obsession with Harry Potter had been an on-going thing since school. In his early fantasies, Potter had a tiny cock, and Draco would laugh at him and make fun of it, then, as he got older, he realised that thinking about his enemy’s cock was not quite normal, which only made him think about it more. Eventually, imaginary Potter’s cock would put a prize stallion to shame and teenage Draco would practically come in his pants just thinking about it. Of course, the older he got, the more practical he got; he started imagining all the things he could do with Potter’s monster cock, and soon came to realise that most of them would hurt him quite badly. Gradually, the size of the imaginary cock came down to a more workable size, only by now imaginary Potter would know exactly what to do with it.

Unfortunately, it was around that time that Potter started seeing Ginny Weasley. And then Draco tried to kill Dumbledore.

He’d long given it up as a bad idea. He could admit that Potter was not bad looking, he could admire him from a distance, but that was all – anything else would only lead to heartbreak on Draco’s part and no doubt be a source of great amusement to Potter and his cronies.

Granger, as always, had managed to rile him. She had gone on and on about how he should find a mate and settle down, how it shouldn’t make a difference that whoever he picked wouldn’t really get a choice due to the Allure, how he was overreacting. Granger, Draco decided, needed teaching a lesson. See how much she would think it didn’t matter when big bad Draco Malfoy decided to take advantage of someone she cared about. It would all be good for Draco, he’d finally get to kiss Potter, maybe more. That would teach her.


* * *



Could he really do this to Potter? The other man was standing outside the back entrance to the Ministry with his stupid red-haired sidekick. He had a deep blue scarf on and a long black cloak and he just looked so good. Good enough to eat, in fact. Draco was sure that sex with Potter would be fabulous, all that arrogance would make him a wonderful take-charge type of lover, but the do-gooder side of him would mean he’d have to take care of his partner’s needs as well. Not that Draco had put time into imagining Potter as a lover. Not much anyway.

He couldn’t go up to him right now though, not with the Weasel standing right beside him – what if the Weasel hit on him? It was bad enough that both his brother and sister had tried! No, it would be better to wait until they were in their office, and then he could try and get Potter to do the asking again.

Decided on his course of action, Draco turned to retrace his steps only to be confronted by two Ministry dog handlers holding the leads of four crups. Draco groaned, he’d fallen foul of these little beasts once already since the Veela incident and now did his best to avoid them. Already they were straining at their leads and yapping away at him; his first instinct was to run away, but last time they had followed him and tried to hump his leg.

Draco backed up against the wall of the Ministry, wishing he could just pass through it like the Bloody Baron. The crups were practically dragging their handlers toward him now, and the handlers themselves were starting to look rather glassy-eyed. People were stopping and staring at him and he didn’t know what to do. He started sidling back toward the door, hoping to slip back inside without the crups, or anyone else, following him, but he was too far away. The last thing he needed was to get humped by a crup in front of Potter and Weasley, he would never live it down. Knowing his luck, he’d probably end up mated to a crup, and then he’d have to kill himself. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on Granger’s exercises to switch off the Allure.

“Malfoy, can I have a word inside?” Potter’s voice cut through the crowd that was forming around Draco. Before he knew what was happening, the Auror had moved in front of him and grabbed his arm, black cloak swirling around them, and ushered them toward the entrance.

Once they were safely inside, Potter let go of him.

“Wow, Malfoy, do you have this effect on all animals?” Potter asked, inspecting the hem of his cloak where the crups had bitten through.

“They were attacking me,” Draco replied quickly, not wanting Potter to think there was anything kinky going on.

“If you say so.” Potter peered at him like he was trying to work out a puzzle. “Listen, I have to get back, we’re supposed to be using those crups to try and track down a suspect. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Um, all right.” Potter disappeared and Draco suddenly realised he’d just missed the perfect opportunity to ask him out.


* * *



Getting Harry Potter to ask him out turned out to be more difficult than Draco had anticipated.

He hadn’t been having much luck with toning down his Allure, the only time it ever seemed to work was when he attempted to flirt with Potter, which was precisely the time he needed it to work.

He’d had slightly more luck with turning it up.

He’d been in the canteen, staring at Potter as the other man bent over his lunch. There weren’t many people there, as it was the middle of the afternoon. Potter had just got back from a raid and went for a late lunch, so Draco had decided to follow him.

He willed Potter to look up, to no effect, so he tried to increase his Allure to make Potter notice him. Unfortunately, the main thing Potter noticed was the magpie that suddenly took a kamikaze dive straight into the closed window – and then Draco had made it oh so much worse by laughing. He couldn’t help it, it had been funny, and the bird had left a perfect imprint where its white feathers had hit the glass, it looked like a very small angel had been there. Or a Veela. That thought sobered him up a bit, but it was too late, Potter had already shot him a look of disgust and raced outside to make sure the idiotic bird was all right.

If the stupid creature hadn’t broken his concentration, then Potter would have been his. Too late did he notice the small crowd of canteen workers who’d gathered around to try and stroke his hair.


* * *



It didn’t make sense! He knew Potter was susceptible to his Allure, why else would Potter have already asked him out twice? So why wasn’t it working on him now? Did it only work to attract people when he didn’t want it to? It was still working on bloody Percy!

Draco stopped his brooding as Potter and Weasley came into the office. They’d been out on a mission, Potter’s hair was windswept, his cheeks were flushed, his shirt was torn. Draco was a strange mixture of being concerned for Potter and incredibly turned on. They were talking animatedly and laughing. Potter looked so good like that, a bit dishevelled, his eyes bright and a smile on his face. Draco watched him, mesmerised.

“Ok, listen mate, I’ve got to head off – I’m taking Luna out tonight.” Weasley was saying.

“Ok, you’ll need a shower, you stink. I’ll sort out the paperwork.” Potter replied. “Give Luna my love.”

“Cheers, Harry, you’re a mate! I’m going now before you change your mind.” Weasley grinned at Potter and headed out the door.

Draco glowered at the top of Potter’s head as he bent over his work. He shouldn’t be sending Luna his love, he should be sending Draco his love. All this time spent trying to lure Potter in had made Draco hornier than ever, and Potter was suddenly managing to ignore him. Draco hated being ignored.

“Care to tell me why you’ve spent the last ten minutes staring at me?” Potter asked without looking up.

“Huh?” Draco said, coming out of his daze. “I wasn’t staring at you, Potter, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Really? Do you always look straight at people when you’re not staring at them? Come on, out with it, what have I done to offend your delicate sensibilities now?” Potter still wasn’t actually looking at Draco.

“I was just wondering why you don’t ask me out anymore,” he blurted out. No! He hadn’t meant to say that, damn it.

Potter finally looked up, pressing down too hard and shattering the nib of his quill at the same time. “I thought you didn’t like me asking you out?” He pushed his glasses up from where they were slipping down his nose.

“I didn’t object that much,” Draco mumbled, suddenly very interested in France’s demands for the World Cup.

“That’s why you told me to piss off and leave you alone?”

“Well, you didn’t really try that hard, did you? What makes you so sure I wouldn’t have said yes the next time?” He could feel himself blushing, no matter how hard he willed himself not to.

“Would you have said yes?” Potter’s voice sounded intense.

“I might have. Oh, just forget I said anything.” Draco was wishing very hard right now that he could have kept his mouth shut. A strained silence filled the room and he didn’t dare look at Potter.

“Would you like to come out for a drink with me this evening?” Potter finally asked, adjusting glasses again.

“Maybe. Weasley’s not the only one who could do with a shower though.” He glanced pointedly at Potter who was grinning like a loon.

“So, on the proviso that I don’t turn up smelly, how about half-eight at the Red Lion? They do food.” Those bright green eyes were focused on him, like he was the only thing in the world – how could he possibly refuse? He shifted in his seat and willed his erection to go down.


* * *



Draco had always thought that being Harry Potter’s friend would be a good thing, now he had proof of that fact. Potter was surprisingly intelligent and capable of carrying out an interesting conversation; he also had a slightly offbeat sense of humour that appealed to Draco’s own. He had this way of looking at you when he spoke that made you feel like you were the single most important person on the planet and his smile did all sorts of funny things to Draco’s insides.

Yes, the git was still annoying, irritating, big-headed, arrogant, speccy Potter, but Draco want to be his friend even more now than he had at the age of eleven. He wanted more than that, he wanted to go home with Harry and kiss him and do all sorts of filthy things to him, but he wanted to be his friend as well, and hang out with him and have a laugh with him and just be with him.

This was such a stupid mistake, why did he listen to Granger? He should have just stuck to his original plan and avoided everyone until he found a way out of this mess. Once he’d managed to transform back to human and the Allure was gone, Harry would realise he’d been duped and hate him even more than he used to.

“Hey, am I boring you?” Potter asked, running his finger lightly down the back of Draco’s hand. Draco shivered and pulled his hand back quickly causing Potter’s mouth to turn down.

“No, of course you’re not boring me, I was just thinking this is nice. It’s almost like we’re friends.”

“Is that what you want? For us to be friends?” Potter sounded a little forlorn. He blinked a few times and took off his glasses, rubbing them with the hem of his shirt.

‘No’, Draco thought to himself, ‘I want to shag you right here and now over this table’. “I think friends would be good, don’t you?” Draco said, hating himself. Potter looked so strange and lost without his glasses on.

“I s’pose.” Potter shrugged, then shoved his glasses back on his face and turned a genuine smile on Draco. “Yeah, I can work with friends, that would be nice.”

As they left the pub and said their good nights, Draco found himself hoping that Potter would ignore the ‘just friends’ crap and kiss him, but ever the gentleman, Potter did no such thing.

When Draco got home and went to bed that night, he found himself in his same old dream, but this time the man on the sofa had a face, and a startling pair of green eyes.


* * *



Draco was waiting outside Hermione’s office on Tuesday afternoon before she got back from lunch. The weekend had been hell; the black-haired man in his dream had looked more and more like Potter every time he’d gone to sleep.

“Granger!” he exclaimed as she stepped in to the department. He jumped up off the chair he’d been perched on.

“Malfoy,” she replied, calmly rubbing her large belly. “It’s not like you to be so eager to see me.”

“I need to talk to you.” He barged into her office and sat down without waiting for her.

“Come in, why don’t you?” she said sarcastically, closing the door and lowering herself slowly into her chair.

“It’s Potter,” he blurted out before she was fully seated.

“What’s Potter? What’s Harry done now?” she sighed.

“In my dream, it’s Potter.” He went to run his hand through his hair, stopping when he realised that was a habit he’d picked up from Harry himself.

“What dream?” Hermione was flicking through her notes look puzzled.

“Ever since the hexing, I’ve been having this dream – I walk into a room and there’s this man sitting on an ugly old sofa, I sit beside him, we hold hands, that’s it.” He shrugged.

“And the man on the sofa is Harry?” She inhaled sharply.

“Yes! He wasn’t before, well, I could never see his face.” Draco was feeling agitated, he knew before he did it that going out with Harry was a bad idea. As much as he’d never wanted these sessions with Granger, he really didn’t want to start over with someone else now just because he’d ensnared her best friend.

“Do you believe these are the dreams your father mentioned? About seeing your mate in a dream?” Her face wore a pinched look and her left hand was back around her bump.

“I don’t know!”

“You told me you weren’t having dreams.” She sounded strained.

“Oh, newsflash, I lied!” He jumped up and started examining the books on her bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to see the reproving look in her eye. “It’s never been a specific person before though.”

“When did it start being Harry?” He could hear her even breathing behind him.

“Friday night, right after our date,” he mumbled.

“You went on a date with Harry?” There was that gasp again.

“You told me to! Go on a date with one of your admirers, you said, so I did. Except it wasn’t a proper date, not really, we just went for a drink.” He pulled out a book about Vampirism and examined the cover. Why couldn’t he have been part Vampire rather than Veela? That would have been so much cooler, and then he could have gone around biting people that annoyed him. He could have bitten Potter – bitten that lovely strong neck.

“…and your psyche has decided that Potter evidently fits the role of mate quite well?” Granger was saying.

“Yes!” He shoved the book back.

“And what’s so awful about that?”

“What? How can you ask me that?” He finally whirled around to face her. “I already told you, I don’t want a mate who is only with me because of the Allure.”

“Not that long ago, you didn’t want a mate at all.” Her face had gone rather white.

“I don’t, but I definitely don’t want one who doesn’t want to be there. Look, are you all right?”

“Um no, not really. I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to have to stop this session now.” Her eyes were closed and she wore a pained expression.

“Because I went out with Potter?” He asked, tentatively.

“No, moron, because I’m in labour.” He really wished he could detect some flippancy in her voice, but he had a horrible feeling that she was deadly serious.

“Fuck!” He rushed around the desk to help her. “Come on then, lets get you down to the Atrium.”

“No… not the Atrium…can’t floo. Need to get up to the ground floor, out the back way.” She clutched hold of him a little too tightly. They started to make their way out of the office toward the lifts.

“Can you Apparate?” he asked, wondering how they would get her to St Mungo’s.

“I doubt it,” she said with a pained laugh. “I wouldn’t want to splinch the baby before she’s even born.”

“Side along?”

“If you come with me?” He winced; Hermione Granger should not be so keen to have Draco Malfoy around at a time like this.

“I can’t leave you to make your own way there, can I?” He tried to keep his tone light to reassure her.

“So that’s your only objection to Harry? The belief that it’s not what he wants?” she asked, catching Draco unawares.

“This isn’t really the time to talk about it, session’s over, remember?”

“Come on, distract me.”

“Potter and I hate each other, Granger – it was a very definite case of hate at first sight.” They finally reached the lift and Draco pummelled the up button, hoping the lift would sense their urgency.

“On his part, maybe, but you? I always thought you had a thing for Harry.” She wheezed, doubling over as a contraction hit her.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fancy Potter, everyone fancies Potter.” He felt awkward and unsure of what to do.

“I don’t,” she groaned and attempted to straighten up as the lift door opened.

“Good.” He looped his arm around her and led her into the lift, which was thankfully empty. “His being Enamoured doesn’t change the fact that he hates me,” he muttered as he pressed the button for level one.

“He doesn’t hate you. I keep telling you, if he didn’t find you attractive, the Allure wouldn’t work.”

They stopped talking as the lift stopped at level three and Arnold Peasgood tried to get in.

“Best wait for the next one, Peasgood. Unless you know how to deliver a baby.” Draco snarled at him. Peasgood hurriedly stepped back out of the lift.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got anywhere with helping me find a cure?” He asked casually, figuring it was best to keep her talking.

“Being a Veela is not a sickness, Draco.”

“Alright, a counter hex then.”

“Neither are you under a curse. You are a Veela, the sooner you accept that the sooner you will be able to move on,” she snapped.

There was a short silence before she spoke again. “She’s early.”

“Who?”

“The baby, idiot. She’s early. I’m scared, Draco.” He knew it must have taken a lot for her to admit that to him.

“Is that why you waited so long to tell me you were in labour?”

Before she had chance to answer the lift doors opened again, this time revealing Weasley and Potter himself on the other side.

“… smoke seems to have gone, we could always ask Kingsley to speak to… Hermione!” Potter rushed forward as he spotted his best friend clutching hold of Draco as another contraction hit her.

“What have you done to her, Ferret?” Weasley ran in behind him.

“It wasn’t me, it was Boot!” Draco exclaimed indignantly. “Stop wasting time and press button one, Weasley.”

“How far apart are the contractions?” Potter was asking Granger.

“Close enough. Fuck, this hurts!” she ground out. Potter stood on the other side to Draco and began rubbing circles on her back.

“Do you remember your breathing exercises?” Potter asked. Draco was relieved that someone obviously knew more about this than he did.

The lift ground to a halt at the ground floor and they piled out.

“We need to get her out the back way and then Apparate her to St Mungo’s,” Draco said to Potter as they moved past the canteen, attracting a lot of stares from the witches and wizards still inside.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Potter grunted in response.

They quickly made it out into the open air, and down to the gate. The security guards didn’t even attempting to stop them leaving as soon as they saw the pallor of Hermione’s face. Once they were past the anti-Apparition wards, Potter pulled Hermione toward him.

“I’ll take her from here, thanks Malfoy,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“No! Don’t leave me,” Hermione clung on to Draco.

Confused, Draco looked over at Potter, who nodded at him.

“Ok, go on then, we’re right behind you,” Potter said.

They Disapparated with a loud crack.


* * *



It felt like they waited around at the hospital for days. Draco considered leaving, but he felt compelled to stay and see this through to the end.

Terry Boot had raced past, lime-green robe flapping around him as he ran, not sparing a glance for any of them. Before long, Terry’s parents had shown up with Hermione’s mum and dad in tow.

Draco felt severely out of place. He didn’t even know Hermione that well, and they’d never really got on, why ever had she asked him to stay? The fact that Potter had sat down next to him helped; he could feel the heat radiating from the other man, especially where their thighs touched on the narrow hospital chairs.

“It’s a girl!” Boot yelled, some considerable time later as he flung the door open. “I’m a dad!” The enormous grin that split his face made the entire waiting room let out a collective sigh of relief. Draco sat back and rested his head against the wall as the others surged forward to see Hermione and the baby.

“How’s Hermione?” Potter’s voice cut through the hubbub.

“She’s brilliant,” Boot responded, his eyes looking suspiciously wet. “She’s perfect and wonderful and an absolute genius!”

The new father and grandparents crowded into the room, leaving Potter, Weasley and Draco still sitting in the waiting room.

“Should we go in too?” Weasley asked, jumping up.

“Nah, not just yet – we should probably leave this to the family. She won’t want too many people crowding round her,” Potter said with a shrug, looking at the closed door with longing.

“Probably right,” Weasley sighed. They sat in silence for a few minutes longer as Weasley paced around.

“You know,” Draco said to no one in particular after a minute or two. “I can’t think of anything more horrendous than having to push an entire small human out of you.”

Opposite him, Weasley shuddered visibly. “I know what you mean, childbirth is a bit scary.” He seemed to suddenly realise who he was agreeing with and clammed up.

“It’s rather wonderful too though,” Potter said quietly.

“I might just go and let mum and everyone know that Hermione’s baby is here early,” Weasley said eventually. He went out quickly, leaving Harry and Draco to their silence, which only became more awkward with his absence.

Draco wondered what Potter would do if he leant over and kissed him. Punch him, probably. The Allure didn’t seem to be working at the moment. Maybe he should try and turn it on and then they could shag before Weasley came back. This Veela thing was affecting him far too much.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Potter said eventually, adjusting his glasses.

“For what?” Draco frowned at him.

“You know, being there for Hermione. I appreciate it, I’m sure she does too.” Potter looked resolutely at the scuffed toes of his boots.

“You lot have a really low opinion of me, don’t you? Do you really think I’d have abandoned her to have the baby alone on her office floor?” Draco sighed, closing his eyes again.

“I don’t… I just, well – thanks. Hermione means a lot to me.” He could feel Potter’s eyes on him now, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“There’s something I need to tell you…” Draco started to say, stopping abruptly as the door banged open and Weasley came back in.

“Mum’s all in a tiz because the blanket she’s been crocheting isn’t finished, and George sends his love. Can we go in yet?” He flung himself into the chair on the other side of Potter and stretched his long legs halfway across the small room.

“Nope, they’ll probably be in there all night.” Potter got up and peered out of the window. “It’s dark already, I guess we should have contacted Robards, he won’t know where we disappeared to.

“Done it,” Ron said cheerfully. He glanced over at Draco. “He’s going to pass on the message to Higgs too.” Draco nodded his thanks.

“I suppose I’d better head off, now I know Granger and the baby are all right.” Draco got off the chair and attempted to straighten out his robes.

“Ok, I’ll let her know you waited,” Potter said, giving him a small grin.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Draco replied, hoping he didn’t sound too needy.

“Actually, I should be out of your hair tomorrow. Level two seems to be fit for habitation again, we’ll be moving back up to Auror HQ.” Potter looked a little guilty.

“Right,” he said tightly. Strange that he’d railed so hard against Potter occupying space in his office and now he couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving.

The door to Hermione’s room opened again and Terry’s dad looked out. “Oh good, you three are still here. The mother of my grandchild wants to see you.”

“Try not to be too long, now, boys,” Mrs Granger said as she came out of the room. “She’s exhausted and needs a rest.”

Hermione was propped up on the bed holding a small bundle and looking very tired, as her mother had said, but extremely happy. Her hair was wilder than ever, her cheeks flushed and her eyes were bright as she beckoned them forward.

“Come and meet Tiffany Boot,” she said proudly.

Draco stood back a little as Potter and Weasley went to coo over the baby.

“Malfoy,” a voice said from the doorway. Draco glanced back and saw Terry Boot beckoning to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, going back out of the room. “I thought all of us were allowed in.”

“No, I’m sure she does want to see you, I just wanted a quick word. I understand I have you to thank for getting my wife to the hospital safely.”

“I only did what anyone would have done,” he said honestly. “In fact, pretty much anyone else probably would have done it better. I was terrified the lift would break down and I’d have to deliver the baby or something.”

“Well, what you did was plenty, thank you. She was so determined to keep on working as long as possible, she wouldn’t listen to me,” Terry laughed, obviously used to his wife thinking she knew best. “By the way, how have you been getting on since that whole Veela Hex incident?”

“How do you know about that?” Draco couldn’t help the involuntary flick of his eyes toward Hermione’s room.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Boot said quickly. “Hermione didn’t utter a word, although I assume she’s taken over your case. I work down in Spell Damage, I was there the night you came in. You were pretty out of it at the time so you wouldn’t have known.”

He shrugged. “Hermione’s trying to help me with the Allure, just until we manage to reverse the spell.”

“Reverse the spell?” Boot asked incredulously. “You can’t reverse the spell.”

“I know, that’s what all you Healers insisted when it happened, but I can go from human to Veela, there must be a way to change back again.”

“I dare say you are right, but it’s a highly dangerous spell. You nearly died, you were unconscious for two days and the only thing that saved you was, bizarrely enough, the fact that you were a Veela.”

“What do you mean?”

“Malfoy, your whole DNA changed, your body was under severe trauma. Veela are stronger than humans and they heal faster, you must have noticed that. If you put yourself through all that again, you would no longer be a Veela and you wouldn’t have the Veela genes to get you through it. It would be suicide.”

“So, what, you think I should just give up? Spend the rest of my life as some sort of freak getting molested by everything with a pulse just because some psycho threw a hex at me?”

“Apart from the Allure and the extra strength and healing powers, are you really so very much different than before? Maybe you should listen to Hermione and get the Allure under control, then you can just get on with your life.” Boot shrugged, his eyes straying behind Draco.

“Hermione’s tired, Terry, I think we should go,” Potter’s said from immediately behind Draco. “We’ll come back tomorrow.” Draco winced, wondering how much of that little conversation the other man had heard.

Boot nodded at them and hurried back in to see to his wife. Draco walked out into the corridor with Potter and Weasley.

Potter strode off ahead. He must have heard at least some of what Boot said. Surely Potter wouldn’t hate him for this though? He befriended all sorts of strange people, what was a Veela compared to a werewolf?

How right was Boot, anyway? Should Draco give up on trying to change back? Granger had said the best way of controlling the Allure was to find a mate, and his own psyche seemed to think that mate should be Potter. Potter who was now not talking to him because he was a Veela.

It surprised Draco when they arrived at reception. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t even registered leaving Maternity.

“I’m heading to the Burrow, mate. Mum will want to hear all about the baby.” Weasley pulled a face. “You coming?”

Draco didn’t relish the idea of going home. His mother would ask why he was late, and once she found out about the baby she would start dropping unsubtle hints about grandchildren.

“Do you fancy getting a pizza and going back to mine?” Potter was saying from beside him.

“What? I thought you were going back to Weasley’s?” Draco said, looking around him and finding no sign of the Weasel.

“Ron’s gone to his mum’s place, I chickened out. So, pizza?” Potter grinned at him, pushing at his glasses with one finger.

“Make it Chinese and you’re on.” He grinned back. They were friends, right? Just getting a take-away couldn’t hurt.


* * *



Draco relished the feeling of having his long-time fantasy so close to him as Potter Apparated them both to his flat, but he could feel the Allure reach out toward the other man as he did so.

“I wish you didn’t feel the need to do that,” Potter said with a frown as he stepped away from Draco once they arrived.

“Do what?” Draco asked, confused.

“That Allure thing, it really isn’t necessary you know.” Draco felt like someone had yanked a rug out from under his feet.

“You knew?” he asked in an unsteady voice.

“Of course I knew,” Potter said matter-of-factly. “Ron and I were assigned to the case when it first happened, but then Whitby turned himself in so we didn’t pursue it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you didn’t want to talk about it.” Potter shrugged. “But I don’t understand why you keep messing me around. You keep trying to use your Allure on me and making me think I’m in with a chance, then refusing to go out with me and declaring that we should just be friends. Anyway, you can’t use Veela Allure on me.”

“Oh really? Is there some law against using Veela Allure on Saint Potter? Are you going to arrest me?” Draco sneered at him.

“Of course not, don’t be silly.” Potter frowned at him. “I just meant it won’t work – I can block it, same as Imperius. I can still feel you using it though.

“What do you mean, doesn’t work? It clearly has been working or you wouldn’t have kept asking me out.”

“I kept asking you out because I fancy you, and have done for ages.” He pushed his glasses up his nose as he watched Draco intently.

“So you actually did want to go out with me, it wasn’t just the Allure? Because I can’t control it you know, Hermione’s been trying to teach me how but I’ve not got very far. At least half the Ministry keep trying to molest me.”

“So you weren’t deliberately using it on me?” Potter looked a little deflated.

“No, not intentionally.” Draco’s mind was racing. Potter fancied him. Without the interference of the Allure. Fuck.

“Shall we go through and eat this before it gets cold?” Potter said, hoisting the take-away they’d picked up and going through a door to his right. “Do you want some wine?” He called over his shoulder.

“Um, ok.” Draco followed him, a little confused by the abrupt change. He stopped dead as soon as he stepped into the room. It was a plainly decorated room, the kitchen seemed to be through a door to the left where Potter disappeared. There were a few photographs dotted around and a large box-like thing on the plain white wall opposite. In front of him was an ugly green, patched sofa.

“Where did you get that?” His finger shook as he pointed to the sofa. Not that Potter could see him pointing.

“Hmm? Oh the sofa?” Potter stuck his head round the door and shrugged before disappearing again and shouting the rest of his response through the wall. “Ghastly isn’t it? It was a gift from Molly when Ron and I first moved in here.”

“You live with Weasley?” Draco called back.

“Not any more, he moved out about a year ago, he lives with his girlfriend now. I got custody of the sofa. Red or white?”

“Red, please. Did it come from a shop?” Draco wrinkled his nose in distain at the offending sofa, feeling rather confused by its existence.

“Of course it did, I don’t have my own vineyard.” A stream of cutlery, plates and glasses came floating out of the kitchen toward the coffee table in front of the sofa, followed by Potter carrying an open bottle of wine in one hand and his wand in the other.

“I meant the sofa.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Did it come from a shop or is it one of a kind?”

“Definitely one of a kind, it used to be in the Weasley’s living room for years. Why, do you like it?”

Potter came over to the sofa and put a bottle of wine on the coffee table along with everything else. He flung himself down and poured two liberal glasses of wine. “Come on then, tuck in,” he said, gesturing Draco over.

In a daze, Draco walked across the room and sat down next to Harry, just like he’d been doing in his dreams for the past two months. Harry, however, was busy shovelling food onto his plate and barely looked up. He certainly didn’t take Draco’s hand in his.

“Does it bother you, me being a Veela?” He asked, tentatively. The other man was showing no sign of being bothered by Draco, but he felt the need to check.

“What Terry said bothered me, about how trying to change back could kill you.” Potter grabbed a fork and started to eat.

“Oh, you heard that, did you?” Draco attempted to sound casual and covered it by starting to put food on his plate.

“Yeah, sorry, Auror habit, listening in on other people’s conversations.” Potter said as he swallowed his mouthful. “You won’t do anything silly though, will you?”

“Like what?” He added some chow mein and a spring roll to his plate and then picked up chopsticks, glancing pointedly at Potter’s fork with a raised eyebrow.

“Like trying to change back to human. I mean, you don’t look so different or anything, if it wasn’t for the Allure no one would ever know, so what’s the big deal?”

“Well, I don’t want everyone hitting on me all the time for one thing. Hermione thinks my Allure is out of control because if I’d been born a Veela I would have learnt to control it as I grew up, and I’d probably also be mated by now. She thinks I should find someone.” Oh and didn’t admitting that to Potter make his cheeks heat up. Draco concentrated on eating so he wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Like it’s that easy! Just because Hermione’s all loved up she thinks the rest of us can just find someone by snapping our fingers.” Potter gestured with his fork, making bits of rice go flying across the table.

“The problem is, I could. That’s what the Allure is for, to help us find a mate. I’m nearly thirty now and unmated, so my Allure has gone into overdrive. Even my mother’s pet kneazle wants to mate with me – stop laughing, it’s not funny!” Draco couldn’t help a small grin himself, Potter was a bad influence.

“It is a bit. So is that what you’re going to do then?” Potter stopped laughing and frowned. “Use your Allure to take a mate?”

“Not if I can help it. Remember what you said earlier, about learning to ignore the Allure around about the time you learned to resist the Imperious?” He pushed his food about his plate. “That’s what it’s like. All these people who are suddenly so madly in love with me, it’s not real. They’re under an enchantment, they have no free will – just like Imperius. We spend all our lives learning that Imperius is wrong, using love spells and potions is wrong, and then it’s suddenly, ‘oh, you’re a Veela now, it’s fine to do that’; I can’t do it.” Draco finally looked up and found Potter’s intent green eyes fixed on him.

“What if you found someone who was immune to the Allure?” Potter put his half-empty plate down on the table and turned to face Draco.

“It would still be a big ask.” Draco shrugged, it was all he seemed to do these days. “Mating is for life, I don’t want to rush into anything.”

“You could at least try.” Potter looked down at his hands. “A boyfriend now would be a step toward mating in the future.”

“Do you have anyone specific in mind, for this boyfriend job?” Draco put his own plate down, his heart racing – this was it, the conversation he’s been playing out in his head for ages.

“I don’t know, is there anyone you might be interested in?” Potter was actually blushing.

“My father, who you may be aware is not quite in his right mind these days, told me I’d dream of my mate and move heaven and earth for him. I know it sounds like idiocy, but I have been having these dreams lately about a black-haired man sitting on an ugly green sofa.” He watched for Potter’s reaction, hoping the other man didn’t run away.

“Hermione always said the ‘pre-destined mate’ bit was crap.” Potter looked back up and locked his eyes on Draco’s.

“Yes, that’s what she told me too. She said my subconscious was picking my mate, that’s why I couldn’t see his face.” Draco found he was unable to look away from Potter’s face now.

“So you don’t actually know what he looks like?” Draco would almost have called the expression on Harry’s face hopeful.

“I didn’t, not until recently. Since Friday, he’s had a face.”

“Friday? Friday when we went out?” Potter leant forward.

“No, the other Friday since then.” Draco couldn’t help a small eye roll at that one. “Of course Friday when we went out.”

“So, are you basically saying that your subconscious has picked me?” a huge grin broke out over Harry’s face.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But it did, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Does that bother you? The knowledge that on some level you must find me attractive?”

“Honestly? I’ve fancied you since school.” Draco shifted uncomfortably, waiting for Harry to start laughing at him.

“Really?” Harry moved closer and Draco nearly forgot to breathe. “So, do you want to give it a shot then?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” He pulled back.

“How?” Potter was looking a bit frustrated.

“If Hermione’s right and all the predestined mate thing is crap, how did my subconscious know exactly what your flat looked like right down to that weird box thing on the wall and this hideous green sofa? Because that’s never changed from the start, even before I knew the man in the dream had black hair, he always sat on this sofa looking at that box.”

“Ok, so what did we do on this sofa, in your dream?” Harry moved in closer again.

“Potter you’re missing the point!” Draco put his hands up to push Potter away, but ended up just holding them against Harry’s chest.

“No, I just think you’re missing the point!” Harry exclaimed, moving back and running his hand through his hair. “Draco, my entire life was dictated by a prophecy made before I was even born, fighting against it didn’t stop it happening. You can never know what’s around the corner or exactly what something means until it’s happened. Why waste your life fighting stuff that’s not worth fighting?”

“But…”

“No, Draco, not but.” Harry took off his glasses and started to clean them as he spoke quickly. “I’m attracted to you, really attracted, I have been for ages, and it has nothing to do with Veela Allure or destiny. Even if it did, who cares? I think, or maybe hope, that you like me too, so what’s the problem? It’s like you’re fighting it just because you don’t like being told what to do!”

“I don’t want to be a Veela, I don’t want a mate, I just want to get on with my life,” he said quietly.

“So get on with it. If you’d never been hexed, never become a Veela, and I’d asked you out, what would you have said?” Potter put his glasses back on. “If I leant over right now and kissed you, or whatever else this man in your dream does to you on this sofa, what would you do? Would you walk out and never speak to me again and wonder what might have happened, or would you kiss me back?”

“I would kiss you back, but…”

“I told you, no buts.” Potter leaned in and pressed their mouths together. “Hmm, you said you would kiss me back.” He said as he pulled away.

“In my dream we don’t kiss though, we don’t do anything really, we just sort of hold hands a bit and look at the box.” Merlin, it sounded so lame.

“There’ll be plenty of time for holding hands and watching telly.” Harry leant in and kissed him again.

This time, Draco kissed back. Potter tasted of Chinese food and red wine, his stubble was scratchy and his glasses bumped against Draco’s face, but it was easily the best kiss Draco had ever had. Harry’s lips were soft, but they demanded possession of Draco’s mouth with a surety that left him desperate for more and their tongues battled for dominance until they had to stop to draw breath.

“God, Draco, if I’d known you kissed like that I wouldn’t have wasted so much time fighting with you!” Potter exclaimed, pushing Draco back against the cushions and resuming the kiss.

“You do realise that everyone will think I Enamoured you?” Draco whispered.

“Who cares what they think?”

“Mmm, in that case maybe we should take this to the bedroom?” Draco mumbled into Harry’s lips.

“What happened to not wanting to take things too fast?” Harry pulled back again so he could look at Draco.

“I’m not saying we should perform a mating ritual, but you’re right, we have wasted rather a lot of time, haven’t we? I think we should try and make up for it.” Draco propped himself up on his elbows.

“Just like that?”

“Well, this could be seen as a second date, you know.” Draco reached up and captured Harry’s lips again.

“I suppose, if you turn your head to the side and squint.” Harry said, resting his forehead against Draco’s. “You don’t think we should wait?”

“Potter,” Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulders and pushed him away slightly. “You said yourself, who cares what everyone else thinks? I’m not normally this easy, I promise, but do you have any idea how long it’s been since I got laid? Do you know how horny being a Veela makes you? I’ve been climbing the walls having to share that office with you and not being able to have you. You were the one saying we should just do what we want, and I want to go to your bedroom and get shagged to within an inch of my life. So if you don’t shut up and fuck me, I shall just have to go and find someone else to do it instead, but I really rather it was you.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?” Harry got up and held out his hand to Draco, pulling him to his feet.

“At fucking last,” Draco whispered, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing him again.

After a brief attempt at moving toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss, Harry took Draco’s hand and pulled him back out into the hall, resuming their kiss in the doorway as they rubbed their erections together.

“Which one of these is the bathroom?” Draco asked, breaking the kiss at last.

Potter indicated the door to the left, opening the door to the right to reveal his bedroom.

“I won’t be long.”


* * *



When Draco emerged from the bathroom somewhat fresher and without his clothes, he found Harry lying naked in the middle of the large bed stroking his erection. A bottle of lube lay on the bed beside him.

“Hey, no getting started without me!” Draco scolded walking over to the bed. He was pleased to see that Harry was not so very different to the imaginary Potter from his fantasies. “I have plans for this.” He reached out and took Harry’s hand from his cock, letting his own fingers brush the shaft.

“You were taking too bloody long,” Harry moaned as his hips tried to follow Draco’s hand.

“Well, I’m here now.” Draco leant down and captured Harry’s lips, please to notice that the other man had clearly used a few freshening charms of his own. He kissed his way down Harry’s neck, admiring his nicely toned chest with it’s smattering of dark hair as he licked a nipple. Harry gave the most delightful groan, thrusting his hard cock against Draco’s hip.

“Gods, Draco,” Harry gasped as Draco ran his tongue over Harry’s nipple again.

“Hmm, I think someone has sensitive nipples.” Draco smirked as he licked again, causing Harry to writhe beneath him. He continued this for a few minutes more before pulling away.

“No!” Harry exclaimed. “Don’t stop doing that.” He was quite a sight by now with his hair sticking up in all directions and his glasses wonky. His skin was flushed all over and his cock was leaking precome profusely.

“But Harry, if I don’t stop you’re going to come before me, and that would be very rude,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, making the other man shiver.

“Well, you’re going to have to catch up then,” Harry growled, rolling them over so that he was sitting astride Draco, whose wrists were caught on either side of his head by Harry’s strong hands. He kissed him fiercely as though he thought Draco might do something foolish, like resist. Repeating Draco’s own actions, Harry kissed his way down Draco’s long neck. The feeling of Harry’s stubbled chin brushing across the sensitive skin of his throat made him cry out in want, which only made Harry chuckle and do it again.

Letting go of Draco’s wrists, Harry quickly worked his way down Draco’s body, soon reaching his hard cock. Rather than delaying and deliberately ignoring it, as Draco himself might have done, Harry went straight for his prize, licking a long stripe up the underside of Draco’s cock. Draco tried as hard as his could not to buck up, but Harry Potter licking his cock was something he’d wanted for far too long. Laughing as Draco’s erection bopped him on the nose, Harry rearranged them so he was kneeling between Draco’s legs and placed his hands on Draco’s hips, holding him in place as he resumed him ministrations.

As Harry busily and noisily sucked Draco’s cock, Draco decided what he wanted to do with the Auror now he finally had him. After spending so many hours of his life admiring Perfect Potter’s Perfect Backside, he thought he would have wanted to bend him over the side of the bed and worship that arse; licking it and biting it thrusting his tongue into it before finally fucking it so hard that Potter wouldn’t walk straight for a week. That plan was going to have to wait, though, because all he found himself contemplating was in which position he was going to allow Harry to take him.

A shout escaped him as Harry moved further down and started to lick at Draco’s balls, his hand sneaking down to finger Draco’s entrance.

“Umm, yes,” Draco moaned unashamedly as he found himself opening his legs further and raising his hips in submission. Harry grinned up at him and grabbed a pillow, shoving it under Draco’s hips before he fumbled for the lube that had got lost in the sheets.

He couldn’t help the slight gasp that escaped him as one slick finger breached him. It had been a while since he’d bottomed, usually preferring to only do that with partners he completely trusted. Harry bent down and captured his gasps in a sweet kiss that seemed rather at odds with the activities his hand was busy performing.

It wasn’t long before Harry had two fingers working their way in and out of Draco’s arse and the gasps were alternating with little moans. As Harry started scissoring his fingers, Draco’s hips were rolling of their own accord and he was begging for more. When the third finger went in, Harry started licking the precome off the tip of Draco’s cock.

“Oh, Merlin! Harry, stop that or I’m going to come all over you before you even start to fuck me.” He reached down and tried to push Harry away.

“Maybe I want you to come all over me.” Harry’s voice was raspy and his pupils were dilated with lust.

“I will, just fuck me first.” Draco pushed down against the fingers in his bum.

Harry grabbed his wand from beside the bed and whispered a hasty protection spell before flinging the wand away and picking up the lube again. This time he smeared it on his cock before flinging it to one side and positioning himself over Draco.

Draco looped his legs around Harry’s waist and reached up to kiss his lover as Harry’s thick cock started to push into him. Despite the fingers, he was still quite tight and it took Harry a few tries to get all the way in. They kissed again briefly before Harry started moving his hips.

It was slow at first as they got used to each other’s movements, but soon they developed a rhythm with Draco moving up to meet each of Harry’s thrusts and Harry managing to hit Draco’s prostate more often than not. As they picked up speed, Harry put his hands around Draco’s hips and started pulling him toward him with each pump of his hips. Draco reached up and grabbed the headboard with one hand, the other circling his cock and pumping in time to Harry’s thrusts.

“Oh fuck, do you have any idea how amazing you look like that?” Harry ground out.

Draco groaned in response. After a few more minutes, he decided it was time to show Harry who was boss, deftly rolling them over and sitting astride his lover, lowering himself back down onto the hard cock. The pace he now set was hard, causing a pleasant burn in his thighs that he’d probably regret in the morning along with the pain in his arse. Harry’s hand moved over Draco’s erection making him cry out, rubbing his own hands over Harry’s nipples in response.

Draco came with a shout, covering Harry’s chest in come. Harry rolled them back over and continued fucking Draco into the mattress until his own orgasm took him and they collapsed into a heap on the bed. Harry rolled off Draco and they lay there panting heavily.

“Fuck,” Harry said eventually. “I’d heard that shagging a Veela was supposed to be good, but that was incredible.”

“Shut up, and don’t mention the ‘V’ word.” Draco lazily nudged him with his elbow. “I’ll have you know that this is all natural brilliance and the ‘V’ word has nothing to do with it.”

“If you say so.” Harry leant over and kissed him.

“Ew, sticky,” Draco complained, pushing Harry off him. “Let’s go and take a shower and then we can go to bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” Harry said, pulling Draco toward him.

“Yes, and I’m lying in the wet patch.” He batted Harry’s hands away and got up, wincing as he did so.

“Fuck, did I hurt you?” Harry asked, sitting up.

“Not in a bad way, come on.” He held out his hand to Harry and led him to the bathroom to wash. “I’ll let you make it up to me.”


* * *



Draco got home from work and walked into the living room. His lover was sitting on the sofa watching a football match on the television. He threw down his bag and walked over to the sofa, sitting down next to the other man. Harry calmly took Draco’s hand in his and linked their fingers together before pulling Draco’s hand onto his lap.

“Good day at work?” Harry asked, his green eyes meeting Draco’s as he smiled at him.

“Not bad, the Percy Weasley is still avoiding me, which is always good. The World Cup is still going as planned, the Gobstones award ceremony has been cancelled and McLaggen’s been kicked out of the Wasps. Who’s winning?” Draco indicated to the television as he picked Harry’s beer up off the table with his free hand and took a mouthful.

“Who cares?” Harry asked, leaning over and kissing Draco. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Fin


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March 2010

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