Title: The Drunken Mate

Summery: Draco finds out that he is a mate of a veela and not at all happy about it. Who is the veela…take a wild guess.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of Harry Potter and Co. I just write for fun.

The Drunken Mate

"Give me another shot!" Draco ordered the bartender for the ninth time in a row. A second later a fresh bloody marry was set in front of him. Without a pause the Slytherin emptied out the contents with on gulp. What a fucking day this turned out to be. He couldn't believe that he had to stoop down to such a low level as to pass his time at the dirty muggle pub in order to avoid anyone that might know him.

Earlier that morning, Lucius called him into his office and announced that if he wanted to have even a single knut of the Malfoy inheritance than he had to suck up all his dislike for the veela that had laid a claim on him a few weeks ago and submit to the bonding with nature's most rarest and magnificent creatures.

"Magnificent my arse!" He would not succumb to the whims of the newly discovered veela. So what that the said veela was just as shocked as everyone else around it? It was not his bloody problem that someone's life depended on his acceptance. As far as Draco was concerted that veela gene of his unwanted mate could go to the deepest ends of hell and find someone else to bother.

"Give me another!" Malfoy hiccupped and gulped the refilled contents with a swing of his head.

Why the fuck did his father care about this anyway? He hated the veela just as much as Draco himself did if not more. Why bring the inheritance into the picture? "'Cause it's my weak spot and the bastared knows it!" Draco mumbled unintelligibly.

Malfoy shook his head and then stared back at the bartender who was serving as well as starring at him for the good half of the night. "What the fuck are you looking at, muggle?" Draco snarled. "Sorry to burst your bubble but these lips," he smacked his lips together, making a kissy sound. "have already been claimed."

The bartender did not even bother to reply knowing full well that the costumer was drunk and probably out of his mind, sprouting new vocabulary words and all. What in the hell is a muggle anyway?

"I'll have the same," someone next to Draco told the bartender.

Groaning aloud, Draco looked at the unwanted figure. "How the fuck did you know I was here?"

"You're in distress, Malfoy. Where else would I be?"

"Always the noble Gryffindor." Draco snarled. "Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be left alone?"

"Yes."

"And?" Draco gestured in annoyance.

"You still need me."

"I do not!" Draco argued childishly.

"Come home with me."

"So you can have your way with me in my undignified state? I think not."

"I can have my way with you anytime I want and you know it." The veela explained. "All I have to do it release some of my veela pheromones and you'll be all but putty in my hands."

"You wouldn't dare!" Malfoy stood sharply, alarmed.

"Of course I wouldn't, Malfoy. I'm not you!" The veela replied calmly.

"I still need time…" Draco began.

"You can take all the time you need as long as you come home with me."

Thank God from favors, thought the Slytherin and then nodded numbly. Draco let his veela pay the bill and then drag him out of the pub. A moment later they were standing in the dark, cold alleyway.

"I don't know if I could do this." Draco said solemnly.

"I'll help you apparate."

"I don't mean that," the blond explained. "I mean I don't think that I could ever be with you the way you need me to."

"Ever is a really long time, Malfoy. A lot could change in the coming years or months or weeks or hours or minutes…seconds…" Whispered the veela before boldly touching their lips together and then stepping away to observe the Slytherin's reaction.

Draco was thankful for the cold weather. Whether the shudder that ran through Malfoy was from the chill or pleasure was for the veela to figure out. Sighing, Draco held out his hand and whispered into the night, "Take me home."

The couple apparated away with a loud crack that was barely muffled by the wind….

The End

Author's Note: Well who do you think is the veela? Obviously it's a Gryffindor…but which Gryffindor? Hmm…

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