Prologue

Draco had dreamt of this day. He had dreamt of peace, of freedom, of being able to live. He had fought for survival, crawled his way through dirt, mucked up the family name to stay alive and breathing. Even now, his claws were out scrabbling in disbelief that he was here with both his father and mother. But in all of his days spent in fear and wishful thinking, this had never been one of them.

Draco stared silently at the long sweeping wings that sprouted from his back. They were an iridescent pearl grey, a colour lighter than his eyes, but glimmered in different shades and hues when light struck them differently. His mind was still trying to play catch up on what in merlin's name was happening to him, his own eyes staring blankly at the mirror. When it finally did, Draco made a noise that sounded like a dying whale as he breathed out a vulgarity, hands clutching at the sink.

"Fuck…" Draco hissed, bringing a hand to pull at his fringe, the harsh tug on his hair similar to his mind pulling him back into reality. This was not good, and Draco knew it. Creature inheritance usually occurred when said person reached maturity at seventeen. And for veelas, the wings spent their entire time growing inside the body until the witch or wizard was seventeen. But Draco was eighteen. It had been eight months after the battle of Hogwarts, and yet only now did he get his wings. When he hadn't received them while still in the presence of Voldermort, Draco had thought he was lucky, and that the veela gene had skipped his generation again.

He was wrong.

"Draco dear? What's wrong?" His mother's voice echoes from behind the bathroom door, and Draco swears lightly as he realises that the house elves must have notified her that he had been stuck inside for close to an hour.

"Mother, I… It seems that I may have received my creature inheritance a year late." Draco finally answers, eyes downcast as he slowly pulls open the bathroom door, revealing his folded wings. Narcissa's eyes widened, her mouth forming an 'O' as she stared at the grey wings that seemed to have miraculously appeared overnight. Mother and son gazed at each other before Narcissa took a step forward, hand reaching out to touch Draco's wings to ensure it was real. Draco's shudder was all Narcissa needed as she swept to the doorway of his bedroom.

"Lucius, we may have a slight predicament!"

Slight? Draco bit his lip. If he told his mother and father about the other downside of his creature inheritance, bloody hell it wasn't going to remain slight. The soft steps of his father were soon heard, the man having served six months in Azkaban, and having to spend the remaining eight years under house arrest. It was a merciful sentence, partially due to the fact the elder Malfoy was hardly called on for duty and hadn't had a wand. It was sheer luck and risk which none of the Malfoys ever wanted to experience again, and Lucius' expression softened as he took in his son's worried expression.

"Not a predicament Narcissa. In fact, it's going to be fine. Come Draco, we'll talk about this together." Smiling softly at his son, Lucius gently steered him by his shoulders, Narcissa following, patting Draco's cheek reassuringly. For all their pure blood ideals, there was one thing the Malfoys held in higher regard, and that was family. To care, to protect, to kill if necessary. And even the wizarding world couldn't overlook that one saving grace in their parole. It also helped that Harry Potter had graciously stood up for them, and this time, the elder Malfoy was determined to get it right.

"Draco, you are a very special person, and not because you have wizarding blood flowing in you. Nor is it because you bear the Malfoy name. You are highly intellectual, shrewd beyond comparison, and being a veela is just an added quality to it." Narcissa whispered, squeezing her son's hand as they sat down in the living room of the small cottage they had rented.

"The veela blood has ran in our families, both the Blacks and Malfoys for centuries. You are undoubtedly aware that at times these genes skip certain generations, and appear in others." Lucius continued, pouring a glass of Sherry as he spoke.

"But I'm eighteen!" Draco protested shakily, falling silent as his father passed him the glass, frowning slightly at his outburst.

"Yes and I do have a probable theory for it. Your veela wings and aspects had fully developed last year. But because of all the added… Pressure, putting it tactfully, your body withheld your inheritance." Lucius took a small sip from his own glass before looking at his son calmly, "Your veela inheritance was ready, but you, were not."

Draco fell silent as he tried to process what this meant, even as his father continued speaking. If this was true, it meant that he had fully developed all of his veela characteristics last year.

"It is natural for you to experience certain emotions and to look at things with a different perspective." Narcissa murmured softly, brushing her son's fringe.

"Indeed, throughout last year you may have experienced events that threw you off guard. Your priorities may have shifted and instinct could have started influencing your decisions. The most common sign of the veela's inheritance are the dreams of course." Lucius spoke briskly, settling down beside Draco, refilling the empty glass.

"…Dreams? What kind of dreams?" Draco had paled, fingers digging into own palms as he stared at his father in dismay, Narcissa immediately running a soothing hand over his back.

"They mostly show veelas their mate. Certain distinct features that could help them in their search, although most veelas instinctively know and have usually met their mate beforehand. After which the veelas themselves would feel a pull on their baser instinct to be close or to protect their mate. It can be ignored of course, and would have been easily unnoticeable for you since your creature inheritance did not fully manifest."

Emerald eyes were warm and cajoling as Draco shirked away, eyes wide and fearful. He could feel the magical presence of the man before him, and it was strong enough that Draco could feel himself getting drunk on it. It was dangerous.

Or at least it should have been, Draco thought as hands carded through his hair, and a soft whimper left his lips. Those very hands lifted him up, and he could feel warmth enveloping him as dry slightly chapped lips brushed his own. Letting out a whine because the darkness wouldn't let him see this strange familiar man holding him, Draco could feel himself tearing up. Like a child throwing a tantrum due to the unfairness of it all, and a soft chuckle sounded at his ear.

"I've got you Draco."

And Draco froze as the darkness lifted, revealing a very familiar lightning shaped scar, and green eyes.

He had that dream repeatedly going on in his mind the entire time Voldermort had stayed in the Manor. Every night when he was frightened and grateful for being alive, Draco had gone to sleep with images of Potter taking care of him. Holding him close, and keeping him nights it varied, and on particularly bad nights when Draco went to sleep shaking with silent tears running down his face, the Potter in his dreams had enveloped him in warm hugs and kissed him until he woke up with liquid fire running in his veins. Initially he had been disturbed at having such dreams about his arch nemesis, but as time passed, Draco secretly began to look forward to falling asleep. Because there he was safe, and there, with Potter's warm hands, no one, not even Voldermort could harm him.

It's him. It's Potter. Draco feels sick as his aunt hisses into his ear to confirm if it is indeed Harry Potter, his father's fear driving the elder to ask him to identify Potter properly. Even with his face stung badly, Draco knows he can recognise those green eyes anywhere. Right now they stared at him, anxious, but proud and guarded.

What was he supposed to do? If he lied and the Dark Lord found out, his family would be facing a death sentence, and if lenient, an entire day of the cruciatus curse. But if he didn't lie, they would hand over Potter to the Dark Lord, and that mere thought sent Draco's insides lurching. They would kill Harry, his Harry. Something bubbled inside of him, hissing as he drowned in those emerald eyes, and all Draco could hear or think of in his mind was no.

Glancing at that familiar face once more, Draco stuttered out a soft, "I can't be sure." Before he breaks eye contact, hands trembling as he got up from kneeling. There's anxiety roiling in his chest, snarling, and the fear is ten times more prominent than before. Potter, Harry escapes, and Draco doesn't know to be happy or fearful.

That night when he's finally allowed to sleep after enduring the cruciatus curse, Harry is there, soft lips caressing all the cuts and bruises. He's buried in Harry, Potter's chest, sobbing softly as warm hands ran over all the bandages and bruises.

"Thank you." Harry breathes into his ear and Draco can't help the delighted smile that breaks across his face, even as tears welled up in his eyes, every part of his body stinging from the torture.

"Draco? Draco dear?" Narcissa shook her son and watched through narrowed eyes as he choked, lips parting as his hands clutched at the glass, knuckles white.

It was Harry Potter. His mate was Harry fucking Potter. Did some deity up above or merlin himself find joy in making Draco's life difficult? He could live knowing that he was obsessed with the other ever since he was a small child. He could live knowing he had a crush on the other throughout his time in Hogwarts. He could live knowing that Harry only loved him in dreams and nothing else. But to burn it into him with desire, need and magic to love, care, protect, and sacrifice for?

"Oh dear… Who is it Draco? Who is it?" Narcissa whispered, hands reaching up to brush away the stray tear that had leaked out of her dear son's eyes. Draco blinked, glancing up at his father's impassive face, the anxious aura present, even with that cold mask on.

"It's Potter." Draco finally answered, voice muffled as he fell into his mother's arms, tears flowing freely because bloody fucking Harry Potter who he could never ever have-

Bloody fucking Harry Potter.

Hello~ Please leave a review if you can and if you have questions fire away! I hope you give this story plenty of love and that you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank you and see you at the next chapter hehe