A/N: Ok, people. I have thought a lot about this...and have come to a conclusion. I have become a big fan of Harry/Draco fan-art in the past few months, and am quite interested in how some of you may respond to what I'm about to say. Igive permission toanyone who wants to makefan-art about this story. HOWEVER...there is a catch. If you so chose to do fan-art about Veela Child, Moon Child, I would like to be informed, first. Anyone who wishes to take up my challenge, may, only if they tell me they wish to in a review. From there, I will contact them with permission. They must put their E-mail address (so I can contact them) in their review, and in return, E-mail me a copy of the fan-art they create. My E-mail address is not on the site (for my own personal reasons) so I will have to contact you with my approval.

Anyway, I just wanted to put that out there, just in case anyone has ever been interested. I'm sort of curious as to the responses, though...hehehe. Well, I'll let you all enjoy the story, now! Thanks for listening to my chatter, and please...Review!

Veela Child, Moon Child

by: Twilight Goddess7

Chapter 9: The Breaking of the Veela.

Classes at Hogwarts were very different than they had been at Domyoji. The students were required to switch classrooms for each of their lessons, as opposed to staying in one classroom and having the teachers come in to teach them.

There was also the openness to talk about teachers behind their backs, that students at Domyoji did not usually partake in. Sure, there was the occasional warnings about a certain teacher that you might have, but not the outright gossiping about their actions that Hogwarts students seemed to accept as everyday news.

Severus Snape was very hard on them, especially when he realized that most of the Domyoji students were capable of making any potion that he taught about. Harry soon realized that he was rather prejudiced against Gryffindors, and that they liked him just as much as he liked them. But he noticed that the teacher also used a backwards way of making sure he got the best out of all his students, whether it be though cruelty, favoritism, or even silence.

Professor McGonagall was a stern, but fair teacher, though she too, seemed a little prejudiced towards her own house. She punished each student as they deserved, but also made exceptions if the student had a plausible excuse.

As for the other students, Harry found them all to display traits from their own houses. The Ravenclaws were studious, the Hufflepuffs were loyal, the Slytherins were cunning, and the Gryffindors were brave. There were a few exceptions to this rule and a few people who openly displayed other traits from other houses, but on the all they were sorted well.

One thing he was beginning to dislike, however, was the fact that his parents were teachers here. It was bad enough, receiving letters every week asking him if he was happy and healthy. Now he had them coming to him every day, trying to get him to 'open up to them' as they put it. He loved his parents, no one could question that, but for so long he had had little interference in his daily actions. To suddenly have them here, wanting to be a part of everything he did and wanting control over everything he did, was a little much.

Dumbledore seemed to find the situation hilarious, especially when Harry found it necessary to take refuge in his office for a while to get rid of his over-eager parents. Adrian also found it funny, teasing Harry whenever he got the chance to. Both of them understood Harry's need to be independent, however, and the reasons for this.

But it was Draco Malfoy, that made this stay at Hogwarts all the more enjoyable for Harry. He knew that Draco was becoming suspicious of his knowledge of their bond, and also that he was driving the other boy crazy pretending he was ignorant. More often than not, waves of annoyance and suppressed lust would fill the veela's scent, causing Harry to barely contain himself from laughing.

It was fun teasing Draco, and even more fun to find out it was working. The frustration that he was feeling would continue to build up for as long as Harry kept up the game, and when it was finally released…Harry couldn't bring himself to even think of what would happen.

"I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate…"

"WE GET THE PICTURE ALREADY!" Blaise and Pansy chorused, watching as their friend banged his head against the wall for the umpteenth time.

"I really do hate my life…"

"Ok, Drake! We understand!" Blaise sighed, walking over to the blonde boy and grabbing his head so he could do no more harm to himself.

"Why do you hate your life, Draco?" Pansy asked soothingly. Draco groaned.

"He teases me. He always teases me. He's everywhere, but I can't touch him!" He whimpered, sinking down onto one of the black leather couches of the Slytherin common room. Blaise and Pansy shared a startled looked, and then sat down on either side of their friend.

"Wait a minute…you…you're in love!" Pansy gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. Draco nodded.

"To someone…a male someone…other than the Potter girl," Blaise continued. Draco made an affirmative noise.

"Who?" Pansy asked. Draco moaned and buried his head into the cushions of the couch next to her legs.

"My mate," he mumbled.

"Mate?"

"Yes, Blaise, mate! I'm a veela, alright!" Draco finally cracked, his control finally cracking. His friends looked dumbstruck.

"How…how long have you known? Do your parents know?"

"Last year, and no. And you won't tell them, either," he snapped.

"Well…why don't you tell to this mate of yours?"

"He knows. I know he does. He pretends not to but he does. He just likes teasing me…" Draco said in a suffering voice.

"It sounds to me like he's trying to make you crack…and it's working. He's waiting for you to come to him," Blaise said carefully. Draco growled.

"He wants me to submit. I don't know who he thinks he is, but if he thinks for one moment that I'm going to submit to him…"

"Draco, I hate to burst your little control-freak bubble, but you already are. Submitting, I mean. The fact that he's getting to you just proves it," Pansy said, an amused tone in her voice. Draco looked up, startled, and then allowed his head to drop with another groan.

"NonononononoNO! This can't be happening. I'm a Malfoy! Malfoy's bow to no man! Malfoys do not bend to the wills of Potters!" He raved.

"OH! Then your mate is Adrian?"

"NO! Harry!" Draco admitted. There was an amused snort from Blaise.

"Oh, you're lost, mate! Not only do I highly doubt you will be the dominant figure in the relationship, I also doubt he's going to let you get away with your high and mighty attitude!" He laughed. With an angry roar, Draco was on top of his friend, pounding Blaise's chest as hard as he could, while the other boy laughed helplessly.

"We'd better rename you two, Pansy. You'll be Draco now, and he'll be the pansy!"

This only gained him another person trying to beat him to oblivion.

Draco grumbled angrily as he stalked through the halls, his frustration flowing off of him in waves. He had been aware for quite some time that he was not the controlling factor in the almost non-existent relationship between Harry Potter and himself. No, Harry was calling the shots and he was left to pick up the pieces of his slowly shattering reality.

At first he had been outraged. Not only was he a veela, he was also five months older than the youngest Potter. This should have been more than enough to have control over the matter.

Unfortunately, fate liked to play with Draco's life.

He had no control over what was happening to him. Harry would play with him, allowing him to believe one thing, and then he would pull the blindfold away revealing something completely opposite to what he had expected. A brush of shoulders in the hallway could mean anything from 'get away from me' to 'come get me, I'm yours' for all Draco knew.

And he knew the effect he was having on the blonde, too. Oh, Draco knew that much. The seemingly innocent glances at him betrayed his plans of torture. The 'accidental' touches were warnings of what was to come. Showing Draco exactly who was in control and warning him not to attempt to fight it.

Oh, yes. Harry Potter knew what he was doing. He knew just how to break Draco and just where to strike to make sure he cracked. He knew just how to act to make no one suspicious and how to react to Draco's attempts to make him eat his actions.

Harry Potter was the dominant party in the Malfoy/Potter relationship.

And Draco was beginning to submit.

Draco didn't know how long he had been outside, only that the moon was already high in the sky by the time he even thought about going back in to bed.

As he got up from his seat on a rock near the lakeside, something caught his eye and he looked up above the Forbidden Forest. A dark shadow flew in front of the moon, silhouetting the creature in a beautiful way.

It had an almost human shape, save for the large wings that sprouted from it's back. It glided gracefully through the air, dipping low over the trees before flying back up and drifting across the moon again.

This went on for quite some time, the figure sometimes going out of sight before reappearing once more in a different place. Almost as if it were playing the muggle game 'Hide and Seek'.

Finally the figure seemed to tire, gliding effortlessly down until it touched the ground a few feet away from the school. Draco stared, shock raging through him, as the wings fluttered and then disappeared. Then he got his first good look at the thing…person he had been watching.

It was Harry Potter. His long braid swayed gently as he climbed the stairs to the Entrance Hall, apparently unaware of his mate watching him. His skin seemed to almost glow in the moonlight, and as he turned his head slightly before going inside, Draco saw a peaceful look filling the face that was usually so neutral.

It was then that Draco knew.

His mate was no ordinary wizard. There were only two species that could possibly dominate a veela. And he knew which one his mate was.

Harry Potter was a Draconian.

Draco struggled uselessly against the hand that held his arms above his head. Another hand was running gently over his chest, pinching at his nipples and twisting them lightly.

A persistent mouth sucked at his neck, occasionally nipping at his throat to punish him for his futile attempts to escape. Finally, the lips trailed up, ghosting over his jaw on their way to his ear. Teeth tugged at his lobe, causing a gasp to tear from his mouth.

"Fighting me does no good, Dragon."

Hot, sweet breath tortured his cheek as he closed his eyes against the urge to just give in. A warm, wet tongue traced the edge of his ear, causing him to moan and buck against his captor. A soft chuckle made him shiver in delight.

"Give in. You cannot fight me, nor do you want to," the voice rumbled. Draco whimpered in despair. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to feel so out of control.

"Let me love you, Dragon. Let me touch your every inch. Let me fill you full. Let me."

"N…no…" Draco whispered, his voice breaking. The hand now trailed down to his thigh, touching everything but what needed the most attention.

"Let me thrust into you and make you scream. Let me fuck you until all you feel is oblivion. Surrender, Draco. You cannot win. I will overcome you, you know I will. Submit to me."

"No…please…" he choked, tears of frustration coming to his eyes as the hand trailed closer and closer to his need. Then, it gently parted his legs, allowing it's owner to settle between them.

"Dragon, my Dragon, submit. Submit to me," the voice soothed. Draco wreathed against the weight that was slowly lowering onto his body, and he moaned helplessly.

"You are already lost, Dragon. You are mine."

With a quick thrust, his lover was in his body and Draco was sobbing for release.

Draco's eyes flew open and he choked on he cry which had escaped from his lips at the emotions that dream sent raging though him.

Oh, yes. Harry Potter was definitely the dominant one in their relationship.

"I don't see why you're playing with him like this," Adrian sighed, as he watched Draco glance over at the Harry once again, and then quickly look away. Harry ignored the veela and looked his brother in the eye.

"He needs to be broken," he said simply. The older boy smirked.

"And you enjoy every minute of his fall," he chuckled. Harry made no comment but went back to eating his breakfast.

"He saw me flying last night. He knows what I am," he finally said. Adrian looked up, startled.

"He knows you are a Draconian?"

"Yes. And he knows it is futile to fight me for dominance. It was the one thing I didn't plan, but it was also his final undoing. He may pretend to fight, and he may not like it, but he knows his place," Harry said, his voice showing nothing. But his brother sensed that he was pleased about his mate's present position.

"You are a wicked person, Harry Potter," he finally laughed. Harry looked up, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh, no. I'm just persistent," he retorted. Adrian gave another bark of laughter and together, they walked to their first class of the day, Potions.

As usual, Snape began with yelling at Gryffindor for being noisy. Then he began to announce the partners for the potion they would be making that day.

"Granger, Parkinson. Weasley, Crabbe. Longbottom, Zabini. Potter Adrian, Bulstrode. Potter Harry, Malfoy…"

Harry worked to keep from smirking in triumph as an almost frightened look crossed Draco's face before disappearing behind a mask of indifference. He obediently walked over to where Draco sat and took the seat next to him. Draco looked anywhere but him as Snape began to write the instructions for the potion on the board. The whole time the two sat in silence, Draco shifting uncomfortably and Harry sitting calmly beside him. Finally, Snape finished and motioned for them to get started.

"I'll go get the ingredients," Draco muttered as he quickly left for the front table.

Harry smirked at how openly nervous his mate was acting. He watched as the boy reached for the ingredients with slightly shaking hands, and how his eyes remained glued completely on his task. When Draco returned, Harry had the cauldron ready and the fire started beneath it.

The potion was made in silence, Harry doing half while Draco did the other half. In the end, it turned out perfectly, unlike most of the other potions. Harry was surprised to see that Neville Longbottom (a rather shy and clumsy boy from his house), had managed to make a descent potion. Of course, that may have been because Blaise Zabini was leading him through the process the entire time, whispering reassuring words to him when he almost made mistakes.

When the class was over, Draco was one of the first out of the room, a grinning Blaise and Pansy Parkinson following him closely. Harry shot Adrian a triumphant look and his brother attempted not to laugh.

"I don't want to know what just happened," Rosalie said quietly, as she and the other Domyoji students followed the two boys out of the room.

Draco was in a rage the rest of the day.

How dare he tease him so openly! The Potter boy had enjoyed every second of Potions, and he knew it!

Draco knew full well that he was being broken. Every day that passed meant another part of him being chipped away with the artful chisel, wielded by his ebony-haired mate. He was falling apart, and his growing need to have his mate put him back together was torturing him.

But that was Harry Potter's plan, wasn't it? Break the mate, make him submissive, make him obey!

Wasn't he broken enough? Submissive enough? He was already bending under his mate's daily torture, and it was even worse coupled with the dreams he had every night that depicted him in confusing and erotic situations with the youngest Potter.

Draco wanted release from this torment! He wanted to know that his mate felt the same way about him as he did about his mate. He wanted Harry's assurance that this game was just that…a game. One that would dissolve into something more when he grew tired of it.

Damn, he loved the boy! But why did he have to love him so much?

Why did he have to love Harry Potter?

That night, Draco wandered the halls aimlessly, his mind lost in his inner turmoil. He didn't see where he went, nor did he worry that he would get caught. It didn't matter anyway. He was already a lost cause.

He was startled out of his thoughts, however, when he spotted a portrait hanging open a few feet away. Curious, he moved closer and peered into the room beyond, his eyes widening. The room was Japanese style, with many pillows of blue, black and gold scattered around the room. The decor was mostly a mix of those colors, with amber and white added here and there for effect.

But the most surprising thing was, the room was filled with his mate's scent! Everywhere he turned he was bombarded with it, causing him to unconsciously step into the room and look around more thoroughly.

He never noticed the portrait closing behind him, nor the quiet opening of a door behind him. He was too entranced with his surroundings.

"I take it you approve?"

Draco bit down a yell and twisted around, shock and fear entering his system before he could thwart them. His breath hitched as he caught sight of the majestic person behind him.

Harry Potter's hair was loose, allowing it to fall into it's natural curls. He wore gold silk pajama pants, and a luxurious Japanese-style wine-red silk over-robe that fell to his hips alluringly and was tied with a thin belt of gold silk. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and his emerald eyes twinkled with amusement as Draco stumbled for something to say.

"I would ask what you are doing here, but then again, I already know so it would be futile, would it not?" The dark haired boy asked, speaking as though he wasn't aware this was the most humiliating moment in the blonde's life.

"You…you lured me here!" Draco finally choked out, offhandedly wondering if this was, in fact, true.

"You came on your own," Harry said quietly, still standing in the doorway.

"I wouldn't have come in if you hadn't left the portrait open!" The Slytherin retorted.

"Ah, but I didn't. It opened on it's own, because you wanted it to."

"I didn't!"

"You were thinking about me. The portrait opened because it sensed my mate thinking of me as he neared."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but found himself unable to think of a response. He looked at his calm mate, and saw nothing that could indicate he had anything to do with this.

"I hate you," he muttered, turning away. There was a delightful chuckle that sent shivers up his spine and he felt the boy move closer, his scent swirling around the flustered blonde.

"You wish you hated me, but you can't," whispered the deep voice. Warm, sweet breath caressed his cheek and Draco closed his eyes to keep himself from responding. Damn Potter! Damn him to…

He never finished his thought, because a pair of soft, breathtaking lips met the skin of his throat and all thought and reason swam from his mind. Harry's lips trailed slowly over his neck, drawing helpless moans and whimpers from the blonde as he found overly-sensitive places. Then the talented, graceful hands began trailing up and down his arms, making his skin tingle at each and every touch.

Draco floated on a haze of sensation, his body reacting to each of his mate's advances without his consent. He struggled to maintain some control, and he finally grasped a tiny thread of it and clung for dear life.

"You…you can't do this…this to me…" he breathed, his voice coming in heavy pants. A chuckle rumbled in the other young man's chest.

"I can and I am," he whispered. "You are mine, Dragon. You are mine."

Draco wasn't sure how he left that room so soon after the dark haired boy's words, but minutes later, he was on his way back to his own rooms, his relief boundless. He had to think long and hard about what had just happened.

Merlin curse him if any of those dreams returned to night. He didn't need them! He had just experienced a taste of the real thing.

And frankly, that was all he was ready for right now.

"What wasss that?"

"I simply wanted to test a theory," Harry said quietly, as he sat before the fire and gazed as the closed portrait hole that his mate had just left through.

"What theory?" Alasha asked from her perch on the pillow next to him.

"I believe that my Dragon is just about ready to submit. He still fights, but his resistance is crumbling."

"Be weary, Massster. Do not break him beyond repair," Alasha hissed.

"I won't. I still want there to be fight left in him. It makes things more exciting," he announced.

"That iss more than I wanted to know," she muttered. Harry's eyes twinkled at her but he said nothing.

"Why do you want him to fight you?" Shadaren questioned in his young way, his eyes wide with curiosity. The snake hissed in laughter as Harry's cheeks flushed the lightest of reds.

"I will tell you when you are older, foressst child," Alasha giggled. Harry shot her a disapproving look, before gently picking the snake up. She wrapped around his neck, freeing his hands to attend to lifting the Kneveral.

"I think it is long past all of our bedtimes," he muttered, sliding open the door that led to his chambers and walking through. He walked up a short flight of stairs and then through another door, shutting this one gently behind him before setting the cat-like creature down on the large four-poster bed.

Collapsing down upon it himself, he waited for the snake to slither off onto one of his other pillows, before resting his head down with a sigh. Shadaren jumped up on the bed beside him and snuggled close, purring as Harry gently stroked him to sleep.