Miss Lesley – Draco's mum gave him the veela genes. Please can you see if you can remember the name of the story? It's driving me mad!
Kyra2 – yeah, it is a bit like that, almost. But then, veela only bond to people who will love then and care for them. It gets better in this chapter… hehe. Harry acts kinda OOC, but it's funny! I can actually imagine them doing what they did in this chapter, if it was possible in Hogwarts.
AzureLuna – ok, I'll see if I can get you some sarcasm! Lol. I love sarcastic Draco as well as sweet Draco. But as for the Sirius/Remus, well, Sirius is gone in this fic. *sniffs* sorry! And yes, Harry was a jerk. He's got over himself now. He's the OOC one in this chapter!
Litharalen – THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!!!! *dances around room in delight* My mum thinks I'm crazy now. Oh well. Thank you so much! I'll remember it now! Thanks again, you are the best!
Shania Maxwell – don't worry, I will. Thanks for the review!
Witchy-Althea – It's Circles of Influence, by Marysia. I feel bad for Dray too, but it's all in a good cause! Lol. Bad plot bunny! Bad!
SailorBaby16 – Thanks for the review! I thought I'd be original and not have Ron be unaccepting, just for a change!
Gizachick – yeah, its on schnoogle. Thanks for the tip anyway. I'm glad you like this fic!
Yana5 – thanks! Um… I don't think I need help with anything, although what you'd like to happen between Harry and Draco would be cool. Give me some ideas of what you want?
Makalani Astral – Siri is unfortunately no more in this fic. *sniffs* Sorry. Thanks for the review!
Cherie – Thanks! Yay! I get called Evil! Hermione is being a bit cruel, isn't she? Poor girl. Ok, I'll get to the bit with Narcissa soon. I'll give you a bit of inside info: Narcissa's coming early! Dun dun duh!
Brenna8 – Thanks. You know, after all the time I spent looking for that fic, I'm wondering now why I didn't just post a note on here in the 1st place! Lol.
Xikum – ok, here we go again. Narcissa is the part veela. Neither of the elder Malfoys love each other – it is a convenience marriage. Narcissa is a lesbian, but because of the need for a Malfoy heir, well, think magic IVF, ok? Lucius loved Lily. (poor guy). Narcissa is the big baddie in this fic.
WITCH WERE – I thought I'd be original! If you look in the books, Hermione doesn't accept that the house elves are happy – see, I have evidence! I'm not talking/writing completely off the top of my head! This fic is slightly possible! Voices – but what about the whole H/D relationship? Me – shut up! Lalala! I'm not listening!!
Eadon – ok, my brother now thinks I'm nuts cos I just yelled out 'Ah! I just got called a sweetie!' at the top of my voice. Lol. Thanks for the review, and the rating for this story seems to be rising. Don't worry about finding the fic, I now have it! The Marks that we Bear and Circles of Influence. Gods, I have been searching for months for those!
This chapter deserves a slash warning. More so than the last chapter. If you don't think you can cope, stop reading. There have been warnings from Dumbledore and Remus that things are gonna get more intense!! (Those slashers who love shower scenes, we have a mild one. Lime, not Lemon)
Hey! It went all dark at the end without me meaning it to! See, that's what happens when I write long chapters. You think its going to end happily, and then bam! It goes all sinister.
Beta'd by Luna Shadowsong and Tasselhoffella. Love you guys!
Italics indicate telepathical thoughts between Harry and Draco.
Harry and Draco decided not to try to face the school again that day – once was more than enough! Instead, they asked Dobby for dinner in their room. The chirpy house elf readily complied, and the pair were soon tucking into minestrone soup with fresh baked ciabatta and lemon meringue pie for dessert.
They didn't talk much over the meal, concentrating more on eating. Harry was avoiding looking at Draco, and the part-veela was still reeling over the shock of kissing Harry. He was very aware of the warmth of Harry's leg pressed against his own, and the scent of the dark haired teen. Harry smelled of fresh air, spices and some sweet scent that was unique to him. Draco knew that girls love it when guys have their own, nice, scent, and he suspected that Harry's would drive then mad. It certainly did funny things to his insides. He stole a glance at the green eyed Gryffindor, and noticed anew the neat way in which Harry ate his food. He didn't rush, but ate quickly and carefully, almost as if he wanted to get the meal over as quickly as possible without being rude. Draco knew that the Gryffindor always ate like this – he had been watching him at the Gryffindor table for the past week or so – so he figured it was something about his past that made him eat that way. He promised himself that he would ask the raven haired Gryffindor when he got the chance. He just hoped that he wouldn't spark a painful memory. He knew that Harry's childhood hadn't been the best, and he didn't want to make Harry remember things that he would rather forget.
Once they were finished eating, they headed into the study to get started on their homework. It was pleasant room, quite small and filled with books. There was only one desk, but it was wide enough for two people. A house elf had taken away the wet towel that Harry had flung over the chair, so there was nothing in the room to remind them of the disastrous episode after lunch. They had some Transfiguration practice to do, and a potions essay due in the next Friday, which they wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible. The essay was on an invisibility potion. Draco already knew how to make the potion, and had already used it quite a lot, but he was willing to bet Harry relied on his invisibility cloak too much to have learnt about it, or made it, before.
The essay was easy, all about the process of making the potion, its properties, any possible side effects and an evaluation of the usefulness of the potion. Draco had written a few paragraphs before he looked over at Harry, needing to see if the other boy was there. The chairs were to far apart for them to touch. He considered moving closer, but then abandoned the idea almost immediately; Harry wouldn't like it. But he had to. He was cold; he needed Harry close. He shifted his chair quickly, and leaned against the other boy, breathing quickly. Harry shifted and turned quickly, looking at Draco in concern.
"Are you ok?"
"Yes. Just needed to be closer," Draco explained.
"Are you right or left handed?"
"Left. Why?"
"I'm right handed. As you're sitting on that side, we can hold hands." Harry said, offering the part-veela his hand. Draco grasped it gratefully, and continued writing. But watching the other boy was a far better pastime than writing an essay.
He could see that Harry was having trouble, looking at his textbook with an (adorable) frown on his face and chewing on the end of his quill. However the Gryffindor would probably be too proud to accept help. But then, there was no harm in trying. So Draco reached out and tapped Harry gently on the shoulder.
"Hey, need any help?" he asked.
Harry looked up, astonishment written all over his face. "What?" he questioned.
"Do you want me to help you?"
"Sorry, I forgot just how different you are," Harry said, still staring.
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, puzzled.
"The old Malfoy would never have offered to help. Never."
"I'm not that Malfoy, I never was. It was all an act. Now, do you want help?"
"Please."
***
While the two boys were writing their essays, Hermione and Pansy were in the Library, glaring daggers at each other.
"Just because I need your help, doesn't mean I like you, Granger," Pansy spat.
"Likewise. Let's just get this over with," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "We want the restricted section."
"Do you have a note?"
"Yes. I told Flitwick I wanted to research the fairies some more, but there was a particular book that was so old and frail that it was in the restricted section. He gave me a note."
"Ok, ok, spare me the process. I'm not interested in how you hoodwinked the teachers; I just wanted to know if you had the note!" Pansy snapped.
The two unwilling partners gave the note to Madam Pince and began searching the shelves. Hermione found what they were looking for, and they retired to a window seat to read the large, dusty tome.
The book was written in Old English, which was why Hermione had needed the Slytherin, who could read, write and speak the old tongue fluently. Hermione had known this for a while, as Pansy would boast about it in Potions, or whenever she got the chance. Hermione had considered learning it herself; most of the really interesting history books were written in it. But she wasn't willing to wait until she had learnt the language before she had done something about the current problem.
Harry and Malfoy could not be together. Harry was not gay. Therefore Malfoy had put some sort of spell or something on Harry. Or, if the veela story was correct – and Ron seemed to believe it – she needed to do something to make Harry stop tolerating Malfoy.
There were several spells in the book which they could try. One was a 'detect enchantment' spell, another was a 'hate' spell. There were also a few others for backup if the first two failed.
"These will do, Parkinson. Read out the instructions, and I'll write them down," she said to Pansy.
The Slytherin read out the instructions. The 'detect magic' spell was easy, merely involving a incantation. The 'hate' spell was a potion, with a chant to set it working.
"Well try the 'detect' spell tomorrow, when we see them," Hermione said.
"Tomorrow's Saturday, and a Hogsmede trip too. Somehow I doubt that they'll be around," Pansy pointed out scornfully.
"Whenever we next see them, then. I'm going now," Hermione said, getting up.
"I'll contact you Tuesday. Do the spell by then, and we can see what else we have to do. I'll get the note this time."
"How?"
"That's for me to know and you to never find out," Pansy said, smirking in a manner reminiscent of Draco.
"Keep to the deal."
"Oh, don't worry, I intend to. You get your friend back, I get my future husband. It would never do for the Malfoy heir to royally screw up such a nice match with the Parkinson's by bonding with a male, would it?"
"Just as long as anything we try doesn't hurt Harry, we have a deal."
"I remember, I remember. Now, I'm going. I suggest you go find your luuver boy. I bet he's been missing you."
"Me and Ron aren't like that."
"Maybe not, but I know he sure wishes you were."
With that final jab, Pansy left the library. And left Hermione thinking deeply. She knew that Ron liked her. Maybe even loved her, although she's given him little reason and no encouragement. After the Tournament and the whole business with the ball and Viktor Krum, she had thought that he had written her off. Obviously not. Oh Dear! Could things get any more messed up? She wondered hopelessly as she climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor tower.
***
After Draco had helped Harry complete the essay, they had little to do. Draco was aching inside, but he had it under control, or so he hoped. He also hoped that Harry would suggest something to do soon, or he was pretty sure that he'd so something he'd regret.
Harry was taking it wonderfully, not objecting when Draco wanted to sit right next to him and hold his hand as they worked. But Draco wanted more. He knew that he could hold out for a few days, but not much longer. The more he was around Harry, the more he wanted to kiss the Gryffindor, and the harder the urge was to suppress.
His thoughts began to wander, and he jerked himself back to reality quickly. There was no way that Harry would be lying on the bed in nothing but boxers in the next few minutes, so it was no use wanting it, he told his brain sharply. He had the strong impression that his brain stuck its tongue out at him as it replaced the mental image of Harry on a bed in boxers with one of Harry in leather on a motorbike. Only there wasn't a lot of leather in the image.
"I'm having a shower," He told Harry quickly. "Can I have a hug before I go?"
"Sure," Harry said, wrapping his arms around the part veela. "See you soon."
"Yeah," Draco replied, climbing the stairs, his brain already debating the important issue; hot or cold shower?
Hot, he decided. He hated the cold.
He left his clothes in the dirty clothes basket and walked into the bathroom, remembering a towel. He turned the shower on full pelt, and the magically heated water sprayed out at once. He washed quickly, then took his time while shampooing his blond hair. Once he was clean he rested one hand against the tiles, checking to see how cold they were. But apparently the tiles were heated too, and he was able to lean against the wall without any discomfort.
He was about to start, sliding his hand over his chest, when an image of Harry sprang into his mind. He couldn't do it himself; he had to have Harry. It was Harry's job. Harry should be there, he shouldn't be alone. Never alone. Draco was scared; he could feel all rational thought slipping away. He needed Harry there, now. That very minute. But he wasn't. Draco groaned in despair, and crumpled against the side of the shower, resting his head on his slick knees, his hair plastered to his head by the water.
Harry he thought, hardly realizing he was doing it. Harry, I need you, now…
From downstairs, Harry heard the thought, and came running. He hoped that Draco wasn't still in the shower. No such luck. The bathroom was steamy, and at first he couldn't see anything – his glasses had misted up. Muttering a charm to clear them, he searched for the blond, eventually spotting the still form huddled in a corner of the shower. There was nothing for it. Harry shrugged out of his t-shirt, and slipped out of his shoes and socks. He took of his jeans, but kept the boxers. He wanted to have some semblance of privacy.
The shower was warm, and whatever soap Draco had been using smelled nice. Harry squatted down in front of the blond and ran his fingers through his sodden hair. Draco stirred slightly, and looked up, his grey eyes confused.
The next thing Harry knew was that Draco had flung himself on top of the Gryffindor and buried his face in Harry's neck. He mumbled something unintelligible.
"What is it, Dray?" Harry asked gently, trying not to think about the fact that he was half lying in a shower with a wet, naked part-veela hugging him. A part-veela who had already kissed him once that day. And, to make it worse, it felt good.
"I thought you'd never come," Draco said again.
"I'm here. And you're soggy."
"Sorry," Draco said, sniffing.
"Don't worry, I'm drenched too."
"So we're soaked together?"
"Yeah."
"Harry?"
"You called me Dray," Draco said, his grey eyes wondering.
"Oh, sorry," Harry apologized, blushing slightly.
"No, no, I liked it."
"Oh, ok… Dray. What do you want to do now?"
Draco mumbled something again, looking down and focusing on a spot just over Harry's left shoulder.
"What?"
"Kiss you."
"Do you have to?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic.
"I think… yes. Please Harry, let me! Please!!!" Draco pleaded frantically.
"Ok, ok. You can kiss me," Harry said reluctantly, wondering what he had got himself in for. And wondering why a part of his brain was… pleased?
Draco's lips were warm and slick with water. He didn't try to deepen the kiss, and seemed to be ok with the slight contact. Harry couldn't know that Draco was fighting with every fiber of his being not to deepen the kiss. He didn't want to scare Harry, but the urge was strong. He tingled all over.
Draco pulled away as soon as he could, but one look at Harry's slick, wet, muscled body and he couldn't help himself.
"Oh, fuck it," he muttered, before leaning forward and capturing Harry's full lips again, pressing against the Gryffindor and parting his lips to let his tongue sweep slowly over the Gryffindor's. The raven haired teen tasted wonderful.
At the touch of Draco's tongue, Harry unfroze and yelped, jerking backwards and falling out of the shower.
"Ow," he stated, rubbing his behind.
"Sorry," Draco said, stepping out of the shower and diving for his towel. He purposely didn't look at Harry, knowing that the sight of the dripping wet, half naked teen would make him kiss him again. "I really am. It was the shower."
"That's right, blame it on the poor inanimate object," Harry joked, grabbing one of the blue hand towels and rubbing his hair.
"Are you ok, then? You're joking. You don't hate me?"
"It wasn't your fault. And I guess I really should be flattered – you picked me over everyone else. And, well," Harry slowed down, his cheeks flushing. "I guess I've always wanted someone who would love me for me. There never seemed much chance of that; everyone sees me as the Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World. They want that, not me. This veela thing, well, you chose me for me, not my image." Harry grinned wryly. "Pity you're a guy, otherwise all my dreams would've come true overnight. But I guess I can live with you being a guy."
Draco looked at him, standing in the middle of the bathroom in a pool of water, wearing nothing but a pair of very wet black boxers, a sopping towel clutched in one hand, and swallowed.
"I'll get you a towel," he said, exiting quickly.
Once they were dry and dressed, once again they had nothing to do. It was too cold outside to fly, and they didn't want to face the rest of the school. They sat close on the sofa in the main room and looked into the fire.
"Dray?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you collapse in the shower? You weren't gone for that long."
"Um… I missed you."
"Huh?"
"Do you really, really want to know?"
"Yes. Tell me."
"Ok. Sitting next to you, spending time with you, hell, looking at you was getting to me."
"Am I that bad looking?"
"Exactly the opposite."
"Oh, I get it. You were horny, so you decided to fix that in the shower," Harry stated bluntly, too used to the other Gryffindor's coarse language to be embarrassed.
"Um, yes. And it didn't work," Draco said, blushing.
"Why ever not?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"I needed you there. I couldn't do it alone. I guess it's one of those veela things. You weren't there, and it wasn't right. It's sort of hard to explain."
"Ok. Well, I'm ok with the hugs, and, well, that kiss wasn't all that bad, but I refuse to go further."
"Ok. I hope I can cope with that. I should be able to," Draco said, sounding as if he didn't have much hope that his statement would be true. His silver eyes stared deep into Harry's emerald ones. "Harry? … I think I need another hug."
"Hey, I have an idea," Harry said, hugging Draco.
"What?"
"I think I see something familiar in that cupboard over there."
Harry walked over to the cupboard in question, and opened it. He turned back to the blond with a huge grin on his face.
"A TV!! YES!!"
"A what?"
"Television. Look, I'll show you. There's a DVD here. This thing better have a DVD player… yes! We're in business!"
"What are you talking about?"
"We are going to snuggle on the sofa and watch a movie. The choices are: Merlin, Finding Nemo, the Fellowship of the Ring or Velvet Goldmine."
"Huh? I get the bit about snuggling, but what are you taking about?"
"Never mind. What sort of mood are you in? Want something funny, mystical, action packed or sexy?"
"I'll go with the Lord of the Rings one. I know the story to that."
"Ok. It's just the first book. I've always wanted to see this. I never had enough money. This is going to be like a play, only in more places with better scenery. It's been recorded, and they did a really good job on the movie, its got most of the stuff from the book in. They cut out Tom B. though. Not enough time. Now, here we go!"
He grabbed the remote and flung himself back on the sofa, grinning. Zapping the remote at the screen, he sighed happily. Draco snuggled against him, and they sat back to enjoy the movie.
***
"Is the next film out yet?" Draco asked once the film had ended.
"No, not yet. It will be soon, it's nearly Christmas."
"That was great."
"Yeah. Haven't wizards got some form of this?"
"Not that I know of. We have plays, but it's much better to get one of those pensives."
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? You can buy these pensives with memories of great events, like goblin wars or people being crowned, stuff like that. People sell their memories of the events, and you can buy them. The pensive lets you go to the battle, but you can't be seen or hurt or anything. Or, well, there's an underground trade in pornographic pensives. People hard up for cash will sell memories of having sex with someone beautiful."
"How do you know that?"
"I'm a Malfoy, of course. My mum is one of the main sellers. Hell, I'm even in a few of the movies."
"How come?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Draco, please tell me."
"Ok. I'm beautiful, or so they say. So my mother thought it would be a good idea to make people sleep with me, and sell the memories."
"Why?"
"Because she is a sick, mother fucking bastard. And she hates me. She even gave me a copy"
"Why? Was there even a reason?" Harry asked, horrified at the picture he was getting.
"Birthday present. It's got me, dad and a few others. Want to see? It's easier to show you than tell you. But, if you do, remember one thing. Blaise and I were doing it on pain of death, ok?"
"Ok, but you don't have to show me if you don't want to."
"I do want to. I want to share everything with you. It's right that you should know this. You should know what I have been forced to do," Draco said desperately. This talk was dragging up memories he had thought were behind him. But Harry had to know.
"Blaise… Blaise Zabini? I thought you were friends."
"We are. We just happened to have very similar, very unhappy, childhoods. We also have other stuff in common. We stick together."
"Gods… And I thought I had it bad."
"You had it worse."
"What? From what I've heard, you've had it far worse," Harry said, confused.
"Ah, but my father loves me. And I had friends growing up. I was never starved, and I was only in the dark when I wanted. I look better in candlelight, apparently. According to my mother. Do you want to see, or don't you?" Draco asked his eyes empty of emotion. Harry hugged him, and hesitantly pressed a kiss on the blond's cheek, hoping to snap Draco out of it.
"It's late. We should go to bed. It's, like, 1:00 am. We can do it tomorrow. Come on, you're tired. Let's get some sleep," Harry said softly, leading Draco up the stairs. "It'll be better in the morning."
"It will never be
better," Draco said dully as he allowed himself to be led into their room.