Title: Wind Beneath My Wings

Author: Green Eyed Serpent

Rating: R

Pairing: Harry x Draco

Warning: SLASH (obviously), SEX (duh), and a very HOT Veela Draco!

Disclaimer: Draco, Harry, and other characters belong to JK. Rowling!

Summary: A week before the start of school, Malfoy's failed attempts at a certain potion containing sacred Veela blood turns his world completely upside down. He can't tell anyone of this disaster and so is left to face going back to Hogwarts as if nothing is wrong... And to think he did this all for Potter...

PROLOGUE
A Silver Nightmare

Inside the Malfoy Manor, all was quiet. There was not a sound that seemed odd or out of place. At the west side of the mansion, slept Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy in their large bedchamber.

Mr. Malfoy's hand was resting on his wand (as it did every night), which was laying at the ready on his bed side table. Mrs. Malfoy was fast asleep on her side, her back to her husband and her breathing soft and graceful.

Neither had the faintest inkling that something very wrong was about to take place on the other side of the mansion.

Down six corridors and three flights of stairs, there was another room. A room that belonged to the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. And from beneath the door of this room, a soft glow was seeping out into the darkened hallway.

The door was locked and had been charmed to keep intruders out. This was not unusual, yet tonight, there were a few more locks placed upon it to insure that no one would enter.

But once beyond this door, one would find themselves in a very wide and spacious room; unornamented white walls with a large fireplace in the center of one, a plush black couch arching across the shorter length of the room and a queen size teak four poster bed, complete with lace curtains and satin sheets, situated by the matching teak wardrobe by the floor-to-ceiling window.

From atop this bed, came the source of the faint light. A boy, with unbelievably soft blonde hair like his fathers, and stormy gray eyes like his mothers, and skin so delicately pale, that it looked as if it had been made of the finest porcelain; he was sitting cross-legged with a deeply intense look on his face. His wand was tucked behind his ear, emitting a ball of light and his hands were carefully holding two vials; one full of liquid and the other empty.

One thin hand tipped the full vial until the contests began to slowly trickle down through it's neck and into the vial below it. The substance was a thick and metallic silver, and awed the boy immensely. There was a smile on his face, for he was feeling pleased with himself.

After all this time... he would finally have things the way he wanted. And no one. No one would be able to keep it from happening.

Once having poured half of the liquid into the new vial, he set it down and picked up a small knife from among the other scattered items sitting before him. Then, he reached for a small bundle of a grass-like plant and proceeded to cut them into little pieces.

Just this and I'll be done... he smirked to himself. His heart was beating excitedly as he lowered the knife to dice the last bit of grass... but instead of the blade going through the green strands that he held between his fingers, it sunk deep into his white, unblemished flesh and blood began to seep up and down his hand like a long creek.

Not used to the pain and the sight of his own blood, the boy stifled a gasp and flailed about desperately to stem the steady flow. His wand slipped from behind his ear and fell with a soft thump onto the mattress; he reached out hastily to pick it up but knocked over the vial of silver liquid that he'd worked so hard to steal from his father's private stash...

He instinctively tried to save the vial with his injured hand but it upturned and cast it's contents entirely onto his open cut.

He let out a silent scream of agony and lay writhing around on his bed, clutching his hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

The pain was unbearable. It was nothing like he'd ever felt before in his life. He was sure that death was only a few breaths away.

Then, as suddenly as the pain had come, it was gone and he stopped moving. Confused, he glanced down at his hand and was shocked to see that the cut was no longer there. Nor were any traces of the silver liquid visible anywhere.

He sat up and searched the area around him and found only the upturned vial, now empty.

A rush of panic swept over him as he slowly began to realize what had just happened. He wasn't stupid enough not to know that the silver was now in his own body, flowing through his own blood. He could feel it throbbing in his veins as if he had a fever. His insides burned and cold sweat was moistening his skin.

Oh holy fuck.

The boy tumbled out of his bed ineptly and didn't even bother to throw on his night robe or slippers before running to the door with a rabid fire burning in his eyes. He brandished his wand at the locks and they flew open simultaneously and with such a force that he couldn't help but jump back in alarm. He hadn't even uttered an incantation.

But this wasn't the time to wonder about spells and locks.

He flew down the pitch black corridors, nearly crashing into a suit of armor at the foot of the stairs and sprinted down to the lower levels, knowing that he was probably making much more noise than was wise. Mumbling incoherently and shaking, he finally approached a set of double oak doors just past the entrance hall, which he yanked open feverishly and practically threw himself into.

After shutting the doors and locking those, he scanned his eyes over the towering shelves of hundreds of thousands of books and padded over to a particular shelf at the far end that held numerous spines of thick, dusty, and unused looking volumes, all with silver lettering on them.

He ran his fingers over each of them, until he came to one that he was familiar with. He'd read it before. He knew that it was the one that held the answer to his fate. Yet, at the moment, he couldn't quite remember what it'd said about.... about catastrophe's like these....

His palms were sweaty and his collar was drenched in perspiration as he crouched down and let the book fall open on his knees.

I need light. He thought urgently. And just as he was about to mutter, Lumos', his wand sputtered and a bright white light was emitted from it's tip. What the fuck? His mind whirled in astonishment.

Nevermind. He brought his eyes back to the yellowed pages and thumbed through quickly, searching... searching...

Until ten minutes later, he finally found what he was looking for:

Their magical blood can be used in many different potions- those including the Power Potion, the Wealth Potion, the Fortunate Potion, and the Love Potion, and is relatively safe to handle unprotected. But in the case where another Wizard interacts with them in an action where the blood is exchanged between the two bodies, then the Wizard becomes affected internally and permanently.

With the case of sexual intercourse between the Wizard and the Veela, they are bonded to each other with a power that cannot be undone by any type of magic or potion. They become soulmates and will be literally blinded by lust for each other.

In the case where the blood enters the Wizard's body in any other way excluding sexual intercourse, then the Wizard becomes cursed with the powers of the Veela, therefore turning into one himself within four hours following the exchange of blood. But this is highly unlikely to happen as the Veela do not willingly give their blood to humans without the intent of sexual intercourse....

The heavy book slid from Draco's grasp and the noise of it hitting the ground echoed deafeningly through the empty Library.

This has got to be a nightmare... were his last sane thoughts before his mind blackened out and he collapsed to the floor.

TBC....

A/N
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