Title: Faster Than the Speed of Love
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Charlus Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Voldemort
Warnings: non-con, character death
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books, movies, or the characters therein.

Summary: Draco's veela heritage is forcibly induced, which was bad enough. Then things got worse.

.

CHAPTER ONE

There hadn't been any veela in the Malfoy family for a good ten generations.

Until him.

The blood should have run pretty thin, but leave it to the Dark Lord to squeeze what was there until this happened.

Draco couldn't have even said how it was done. He'd been unconscious in his cell after a rousing round of torture, and when he woke up... he was chained to the floor in the middle of a rune circle and he wasn't entirely human anymore.

It was usually the kind of thing that happened to Potter. Only Potter had been killed months ago, so Draco figured it was a Malfoy's turn.

"You certainly are beautiful." Draco refused to flinch as those spidery fingers gripped his chin, turning his face this way and that. "I wonder what Potter would say if he saw you now. Would he appreciate you for your beauty, or would he hate you for the beast blood running through your veins?"

Draco clenched his teeth and kept his eyes firmly focused on the wall across from him.

He couldn't hold back his gasp at the brutal backhand that struck his cheek. "Pay attention, boy!" Voldemort snarled.

Draco looked at that nightmare face. His every newfound creature instinct screamed at him to flee from the reek of mouldering death, but there was nowhere he could go.

The Death Eaters had dragged him from the rune circle and forced him to bathe in cruelly frigid water. They'd made him dress in a woman's robes and brought him here to Voldemort's private chamber. And the whole time there had been much delight had in fantasizing about his future as the Dark Lord's catamite. Macnair had even laughingly suggested the removal of his testicles so Draco would make a better woman. There hadn't been time as the Dark Lord was waiting, but there was always tomorrow...

Draco shivered and couldn't stop the way his teeth chattered together uncontrollably. He was naked beneath the flimsy robe and the Dark Lord was looming over him, fondling his exposed flesh.

This was not the way his life was supposed to go. But the Light side was defeated and he didn't even have his father to protect him from the other Death Eaters anymore.

Lucius had been killed in a raid. And even though he'd basically said "Good riddance to bad rubbish" at the time, he could wish for his father's protection right now.

"You're so pretty when you're frightened," Voldemort's voice was filled with a cold amusement. "You were beautiful before, but now, dear Draco, you are a true work of art."

Draco trembled as he let himself be pushed backwards on the bed. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and balled his hands into fists over his head as Voldemort pushed up his robe.

Cold fingers fondled his limp flesh with nearly clinical efficiency. And when those hands forced his legs up and one of those fingers was pushed into his reluctant arsehole, he let the tears stream shamelessly from his eyes.

There was no easing of his pain, either by potion or balm. There was just the Dark Lord gripping his thighs with large clawing hands, forcing his legs back and back even as he thrust himself in with no warning and no care. The Dark Lord's hips snapped forward again and again, driving Draco against the mattress.

Draco cried, tears fleeing from his tightly closed eyes at the pain, but he thought he held himself together pretty well.

It was only when his mind couldn't help picturing the way that cold COLD cock was filling him up that he started to crack. He imagined that snakelike face leering down at him, smirking at the pain jolting through him from his center outward.

Then his insides were flooded with icy sperm. And that's when he finally began to scream and thrash and try to push the monster away. There was a sibilant laugh, then a burst of red light as the stunner struck him in the forehead.

But the horrifying thought followed him down into the darkness.

He had let a dead man fuck him.

.

Draco woke to a sandpapery throat and blood smearing his thighs from his torn arsehole. No one had given him any kind of healing, probably figuring that his newfound creature blood would keep him alive.

He'd been tossed onto the floor of his cell and someone had oh-so thoughtfully flung the woman's robe over his middle. He should have been angry, but pride had been one of the first of the virtues he'd sacrificed to his new circumstances.

He pulled the robe on over his head, grateful even for the rather shear fabric as it offered some protection for his naked flesh. The cell was nearly to freezing and his freakishly alabaster skin was turning blue from cold.

Moving around was painful. His legs were sore from being pushed up and back and his hole radiated agony. But there was nothing he could do about any of that but to simply bear it.

How did this become my life? he wondered. But he knew the answer.

He'd believed all the lies Harry Potter had told him about some kind of bright future. He had wanted so badly to see a world where he could be free to be his own man and make his own choices.

So he had made his first true decision and sided with the side of Light. He'd joined the Order of the Phoenix and vowed to battle the tyranny that Voldemort and his Death Eaters represented.

And look just where that had gotten him. He was the Dark Lord's plaything. It was pathetic.

Draco hobbled over to the dingy cot and carefully sat himself upon it, wincing at the pain. He figured he might as well get used to it.

"And soon they'll geld me like a calf and I can be a eunuch for Emperor Voldemort's court," he said aloud, giggling a little hysterically. He fingered his bollocks for a moment through the cloth of the robe, feeling a slight twinge at the thought of being the last Malfoy. "Nothing I can do about it, though."

He sat there for some interminable time, wondering if they were going to feed him, but really wanting a glass of water. His throat ached abominably.

There was the dull rasp of his prison door opening and he felt his body drawing tight with nerves. He wished he could run away but there was no hope of that happening.

He was shocked when his mother was shoved through, the door shutting tight behind her.

"Mother!" he cried, opening his arms wide to receive her half-hysterical embrace. "You look terrible," and it was true. Her usually impeccable robes had stains at the waist and hem, her skin was sallow and pale, and her hair was in mad disarray.

Other than the blond hair, Narcissa looked remarkably like her sister Bellatrix. Except her eyes were terrible with their utter sanity and anguish. "Oh Draco, what a terrible thing to say." She pushed back far enough away to be able to look him in the face. There was a flash of something when she took in his changed appearance. Even in this filthy cell he gleamed with unnatural beauty.

Draco smiled at his mother. "You look just as though you've had nearly as terrible a time as I have. I am extremely pleased that you are alive, though I could wish you far away from here. Better yet if I could wish us both away."

He saw the way her eyes took in the female robe, the finger marks bruising his arms, and the bloodstains on his bare thighs where his legs poked out from beneath the too-short garment. From the tightening of her lips, he knew she understood what had been done to him.

"Dear Draco, my darling son," she said, "I am hoping to make one of your wishes come true." She clasped his hands in hers, squeezing his fingers tightly before letting go.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Mother, why did they bring you in here?"

Narcissa smiled shortly. "I bought my passage in to see you with the only coin they would accept."

He took in her disheveled appearance with sudden new understanding. "Oh no, Mother. Oh no."

"Sh," she whispered. "It was the only way they would let me see you. Lucius' memory hasn't done us very much good. I told him the Dark Lord would lead him to ruin, but he refused even the idea of it. Now he's burning in hell and the two of us are left to bear his absence."

Draco wrapped his arms around her. "Oh Mother," that was all he could say. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but they both would know it was a lie. Nothing was going to be all right ever again.

"I should have taken you and fled Britain when we had the chance," Narcissa said. "We could have been safe in France and the war wouldn't have touched us."

"Father would never have let you," he said."

"Fuck your father," she said succinctly. "He chose the Dark Lord over his own family, then he had the gall to die and leave us unprotected.

"I should have taken you and run. You are my little prince, yet that monster wants to treat you like a whore. We should have run away."

He sighed. "We cannot change the past," he said, "no matter how we wish is."

A strange smile quirked her lips. "Ah, but what if you could?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, wondering if the stress had cracked her mind.

Narcissa reached into a concealed pocked in her robes and pulled out a silver chain necklace. It was made of many links, yet they were all one piece.

"What is that?" Draco asked. It looked like a regular piece of jewelry, yet his hands itched to possess it. There was the sudden sharp tang of magic in the air.

"This is your freedom," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It is an heirloom of the Malfoy family. It is supposed to work almost like a portkey and it will take you far away from here to safety." She ran the links through her fingers, caressing each one.

"What about you?" Draco asked with sudden suspicion. There was something in her expression he didn't like, a fatalism that made him nervous.

Narcissa smiled at him, tenderly. "Only someone with Malfoy blood may use it. And it may only be used by one person, one time. It was created as a just-in-case measure by your ancestors."

Draco shook his head. "No Mother, I couldn't leave you here. They'll kill you."

"I'm already dead," she said. "My life ended when the war started. You are all that matters to me. You are why I came here. I need to see you safe before I can finally rest."

Tears trickled down his cheeks. "But Mother..."

She pressed her fingers against his lips, silencing him. "You are all that I love in the world and I will see you safe. You will take this necklace and you will put it on. You will leave me here and you will make a better life somewhere far away. Promise me," she said. "Promise me you will be safe and happy."

He sniffled. "I... I promise."

Narcissa Malfoy smiled and it was beautiful and joyous. "My little prince." She held out the necklace.

He looked at it for a long moment, unable to move. She sighed and lifted the chain over his head, settling it around his neck.

"There," she said in satisfaction. "Now say aloud that you want to be taken somewhere safe and wish it with all your might."

"Mother..." he said, sobbing. If he went he would never see her again.

"Now, Draco," she commanded.

"I... I wish I was somewhere safe away from all of this," he said, and wished with all his might that none of this horror had ever happened.

Vertigo gripped him and he felt himself squeezed by incredible pressures.

Draco Malfoy disappeared with a POP.

And alone in the cell Narcissa cried from a mixture of happiness and grief. Her son was gone.

.