Harry really could not pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for his mate changed. It might have been that one afternoon when he had rested with his head cradled in the veela's lap, while said veela fed him slowly, easing bites of fruit past his lips with a tenderness that left Harry feeling loved.
Or even that one time when, completely frustrated by how far behind he was with his assignments, he had retaken his habit of pelting his books. Draco had brought him up short, grasping his raised hand before peering down at him with a masterful look that did little to chasten him but rather made his inner veela stir curiously.
Yet again, there was that evening when he had been so reluctant to part with Draco for even those scant thirty minutes it would have taken him to shower. For the first time in weeks he had wandered out of his bedroom and into his mate's, only to feel his cheeks darken when his dominant wandered out without his shirt, tousling at his hair. There was something about the image he presented that had left him stammering for several minutes, his flush only increasing when Draco shot him a lazily indulgent smile.
No, the exact moment was not discernable, but if there was one thing that Harry knew for certain, it was that he did not feel the same way towards his mate as he always had. There was something deeper in his emotional reactions to his mate, something that he had yet to fully grasp but still welcomed, and he placed it as another change in the dynamics of their relationship. Getting used to his new Draco – or dominant as he found himself referring to him more and more with time was a daunting task.
In the first week or two after he had been given a new lease on life as he tended to look at it, he had done little more than recover. It had taken almost three weeks before the healer pronounced his body to be in a stable condition. That fact had shocked Harry to his very core. Since when did potions not offer a quick fix? It only proved how badly his body had been hurt. But what was worse in Harry' opinion was the fact that his magic had been affected by his prolonged exposure to Voldemort.
It was not as if his powers had decreased, it was all there and available to him. The problem was that Harry could not quite make it work up to his normal proficiency. He had been unable to heal himself at all, and, his first attempt to transfigure his pillow had been paltry at best. However as time passed his control of it was improving, to the point that he was certain that he would be up to his usual standard whenever they returned to Hogwarts.
Draco had been most understanding in that first and hardest period, shushing him gently on the nights when he had been afraid to sleep, still not fully trusting that his mind was secure. That same veela valiantly made the seemingly endless amounts of potions he required daily seem like a less than arduous task, distracting him by kissing him tenderly after each vial was drained. That thoughtfulness and consideration still existed to this very day.
Even now, his veela was out persuading their parents that Harry would not come to harm going onto the grounds for an hour or two. Yes his immune system was still woefully fragile, but surely with a bubble charm or the sort completely surrounding the gazebo, germs could be held at bay. Harry had little doubt that his dominant would not get his way. Draco was a stubborn veela, more so now that all of his instincts were awakened and therefore, what his submissive wanted, his submissive would get.
That thought brought a small smile to Harry's mouth. Mama had warned him that Draco would not always be this flexible. His indulgence to Harry's whims was based solely on the fact that he found nothing threatening in their current environment. With little danger on the horizon, he saw nothing wrong with spoiling his mate with the leniency that he was denied in school. If Harry did not feel to complete his essay then so be it, he could do it another day. If he wanted chocolate for breakfast, well, it was not as if he did not have a good few pounds to regain.
In fact, in recent times, the only sign of his stricter mate, the one who something made Harry want to bop him a good one or two, came when he acted out to an extreme level, such as his episode with his text. And even then, Draco's annoyance had been directed more to the fact that Harry had been expending needless energy that could set back his progress more than any true anger towards his actions in itself. The veela had a one track mind these days and that was getting Harry back on his feet and racing around the manor like the little hellion he was.
This mature Draco was a person Harry loved to look at, and luckily for him, his mate facilitated it. He was fascinated by Draco's new form; there was no other way to put it. It was not as if he found it strange and too different from how he was accustomed to seeing him, it was the fact that now that he had seen his mate as such, his human self seemed...inadequate. It seemed almost unnatural and restrictive to see his mate's pure beauty secreted away behind his wizarding appearance.
Not that he was any less impressive then, but there was something about the way he carried himself in his true form. He exuded a radiance and aura around him that immediately made him the most noteworthy thing in a room, something that one could not turn their eyes away from. And those wings, those silver delights that Harry giggled over as he ran his hands along the feathers, embedding each contour into his mind. They were personally his favourite new toys, especially the way Draco teased him with them, fluttering them against his face in a gesture that tickled, or otherwise creating an unexpected gust of wind when Harry least expected it. And of course, there was that one day when Harry had looked out his window to see Draco flying a few feet above the ground, his mother by his side as she taught him control.
Few veelas bothered to learn the task; indeed, his mama had mentioned that quite a few chose to have their wings magically removed to add inconspicuousness to their appearances, even when transformed. Harry would have hexed his mate seven ways to hell had he even mentioned it. Those wings were a part of his nature and there was no way he would see them removed. Some wizards – well veelas in this case – were extremely lazy. Two days previous their mother had started to teach Draco how to retract his wings into himself, only bringing them forth when needed. It was a tiring exercise and took remarkable concentration to keep the massive wings hidden away within his flesh. It was why most chose the easy way, but Draco was learning it regardless.
The door was opening now, and Harry turned his head, a smile playing at his lips when Draco entered. He was dressed casually in a dark blue trousers and a plain white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, with the first few buttons undone. His mate had reached the age where he was starting to take pride in his body. Even though his maturity had toned his frame, Draco had taken to sparring with whomever was available so that his body was slowly taking on a lean yet muscular hue that was admirable. The fact that Draco refused a robe in order to show off his firmer frame was proof enough of that fact.
"Mother says that we may go," he said easily, even as he scooped the veela mate into his arms, chuckling softly when Harry gave a shocked gasp before wrapping his arms securely around his neck. "We are to take care of course, but then again, I always take care of you."
The tone Draco used, a mixture of authority, casualness and even teasing brought forth a soft flush from Harry that the veela could not help but comment on, earning him a mild glare before Harry dropped the gaze. He did not even protest against being carried like this while Draco strolled through the manor, and out onto the grounds, heading in the general direction of the gazebo.
"You are good to me," he murmured softly, his fingers playing through the ends of the blonde's hair before he rest his head against his shoulder. He could have walked, he acknowledged, but undoubtedly he would have been exhausted by the time they reached the gazebo. Besides, he rather liked his position, cradled against his stronger, more resilient mate. He felt surrounded and secure, as if his whole existence had narrowed down to simply being the two of them. It was a feeling he would willingly experience forever.
"What was that sigh for?" Draco asked as he glanced downwards at him, bending his head slightly to nuzzle Harry's cheek for a moment with his nose. "It was a happy one I assume?"
"A contented one," Harry corrected, rubbing his face against the shoulder he was using as a pillow. "This feels nice, being here with you."
"It does, doesn't it?" he asked rhetorically as he climbed the few steps until they were shaded away from the summer sun. The elves had worked quickly, Harry noted as he looked around. They had put a nice seating arrangement for the pair. It vaguely reminded him of his own arrangement months before. He squeaked when, rather than placing him down, Draco carefully sat, manoeuvring him so that he was using the veela's lap as his seat, a position he relaxed into immediately.
His back was to the fifteen year old's front, his head reclining backwards against his shoulder as he trusted the veela to support his weight. Draco's arms were loosely wrapped around his waist, and the blonde dropped his head so that he could inhale the scent wafting from Harry's hair before he rubbed his cheek against the softness, feeling a wave of love for his little submissive rise up. The feeling overtook his entire being as he went about instinctively showing his mate that he was loved.
Harry's breath hitched when Draco's hand moved. His left remained curled gently around his middle, with enough pressure to offer comfort, while the other rose, first stroking his arm gently before moving up so that the warm appendage was pressed against the opposite cheek. Harry sighed in pleasure when the hand rose to run through his hair while Draco shifted slightly so that he could kiss the tip of an ear, murmuring words that seemed nonsensical to Harry but yet, the meaning was still clear. Eventually he found himself becoming overwhelmed with the feelings Draco's hands and words were evoking, and as gracefully as possible, he turned so that he was facing his mate, staring into silver eyes dark with love for several seconds before he leaned forward, his emerald eyes closing gently as he pressed his fuller lips against Draco's.
The kiss was sweet and full of love, and for several seconds, time seemed to freeze. There was no other movement between them. Harry was still too young to understand that there was a whole other dimension to kissing than just pressing their lips together and Draco, who had not yet experienced such, but whose nature gave him a vague understanding, knew that neither of them were ready for anything more than what they were currently doing. So while gentle and expressive, their kiss lacked the fire they would someday experience and instead, was just a way for them to express fully their love for each other.
Eventually Harry pulled away, his cheeks rosy. The shade increased substantially when Draco smiled at him in a way that had him looking away. There was an indulgent love in that gaze that met his. Something in that look revealed how Draco felt about him. He was his precious mate, adorable and feisty in his own special way, but still delicate enough to respond so beautifully to their bond. Draco loved indulging him and would do so eternally were it possible.
Unconditional love was promised in that gaze and Harry hoped that that look would never fade away.
Harry gently ghosted his hand along Draco's face, a contented smile on his face. Today, on the afternoon of August 9th, his veela had decided upon a nap and had promptly used his lap for a pillow, repayment undoubtedly, for all the time Harry had taken advantage of him thus. However, forty minutes into the veela's rest, Harry could understand why Draco never complained.
He looked completely relaxed as he was now. Draco looked innocent, his hands curled slightly in sleep even as his nose crinkled occasionally. His breathing was even and there was such an atmosphere of tranquility around him that Harry could almost wish for him not to wake. Something had stressed the veela he knew, something that had brought him into his bedroom a good hour before time, leading him to uncaringly toss aside the essay Harry had been working on before claiming his lap like this instead, asking him to talk of anything arbitrary until his temper cooled.
And Harry had done it, his hand gently sweeping through the hair that framed his mate's face, brushing at it lightly before moving on to soothingly stroke his face until Draco had sighed deeply once, in that second losing whatever anger he had felt. He had offered no explanation and Harry had not asked for any. His dominant had sought him out to escape whatever it was. He would not press him for anything that would make him distressed.
Consequently, when Draco had yawned before snuggling deeper against him, Harry had only bent and kissed his cheek softly, whispering his love for him into his ear before summoning a novel (smiling broadly when it only faltered once before it reached him) before in his best voice, read aloud until his mate was lulled asleep to the words of Wordsworth, a muggle poet he could not help but be fond of.
He had read on longer than was strictly necessary, breaking off only when Dobby had appeared (thankfully quietly) with his potion and a cup of tea to wash it down with. Resignedly he took it before banishing the elf, not wanting anything or anyone to interfere with the current situation. He wanted his dominant fully rested for him. As such, he let his mind drift in the remaining time it took him to rouse, and analysed the veela and his own reactions to his mate.
He could only come up with one possible action for his feelings, and that was that he liked his mate. Not in the 'Draco-is-so-good-to-me-I-love-him' way, but instead in a 'he-makes-my-heart-grow-warm' one. It surprised him to say the least, because in his own honest summation, Harry found that he was not acting like how Ginny and Luna said people who liked someone did. Yes he blushed and was slightly shy around his dominant, but in his own opinion no more so than before. He was not stuttering or tripping over things around him, nor did he find himself checking out his appearance before his mate appeared.
But then again he mused, normal teenagers did not have what he did with Draco. He had lived with the veela for years after all, and they had seen each other at their best and worst times. There were no games between them that persons who liked each other played, no acting elusive or mysterious. There was no need for that. Harry would readily admit that the person who knew him inside out was Draco and the veela would most assuredly say the same.
And so, that was why Harry was surprised by his feelings for the veela and he thought hard about it before dismissing it. It seemed a natural progression. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always acknowledged that one day he and Draco would be like mama and papa. Currently he could not see himself like them, not in the way they tended to snog each other senseless when they thought that no one around, nor the glances they shared that he had no clue how to interpret but seemed to have the other adults rolling their eyes at them. But he knew that one day their relationship would be similar, and he did not doubt that at that time, it would seem as natural to him as the transition he was going through currently felt to him.
Draco was his veela, his mate, his dominant. Their relationship would constantly change. When he had first met Draco, the seven year old had been his hero and mentor. He had latched onto him from the get go and heeded the blonde's every word as if it were law.
Eventually, as he became more comfortable and sure of his environment, Draco went from being mentor to friend – his 'bestest' ever friend as he used to say then. That Draco had mucked around besides him, despite his reservation aided in sneaking frogs into Narcissa's dressing room and then smirked secretly at him from his corner while Harry struggled not to chortle in his as the blonde woman had still been scolding them.
That friend Draco had eventually become the big brother who had guarded him as if he was his very own. He stayed by his side whenever they ventured into public and was prone to release the Malfoy wrath on any of the other children who dared speak an unkind word to him at social gatherings. That was the Draco who had given him a piggy-back ride when he had skinned his knee and was yet too distraught to heal it himself.
From there they had entered Hogwarts and big brother had become a strict yet loving companion, a mixture of all the above. And none of those transitions had seemed even remotely daunting to him, indeed, looking back Harry was shocked to find that he could barely discern the change. It was not as if, as they aged, he had lost parts of Draco, the same way, he knew that Draco still saw hints of that frightened five year old in him. No, nothing had changed, it was just that those aspects of their younger days seamlessly blended into each other, adding layer upon layer to their beings, making them whom they were today.
And that was why Harry had not noticed that his love for Dravo had changed slightly. He was not 'crushing' on him as Ginny and Luna put it; at least not in the traditional sense. While Draco could indeed leave him several shades darker, it was only at small instances, during the times when Harry acknowledged him fully as dominant. But that was not all Harry saw him as, and thus his reactions to Draco changed to suit. He could still tickle his mate without the slightest compunction if he chose to, would do little more than giggle if Draco pounced on him, growling lightly in that playful way of his. But in the same light he could blush and look away, overwhelmed momentarily by an awareness of his mate and the station he played in his life.
Draco was Draco, Harry finally decided, as the blonde's eyelids fluttered, and while it was true that his feelings were slowly changing, it was nothing to put to much attention on. Whatever was meant to happen would, and worrying would do nothing to change that fact.
"Finished," Harry breathed in relief as the final roll of parchment wrapped itself up before moving to his desk. He was now caught up with his work, well ahead of his peers given the arrangement his family had made.
It was worth the stress he decided. The sacrifices he had made now would ensure that his workload was considerably lighter come the new school term, barely a week and a half off from now. He had even finished it all before schedule, a fact that ensured that he and Draco would have the days completely to themselves now for the next few days.
He was really looking forward to it. The past weeks had been like the best vacation ever for him. Draco was hardly away from his side, like a shadow he did not want to get rid of. He loved it, the feeling of constant companionship. It was a good feeling, a wondrous one even that he did not want anyone to disturb. Not even his secret friend.
As such, he shot the book an apologetic look before he locked in away once more in his desk. It was glowing almost constantly, but still he did not answer much less read what was in there. He was sorry yes for ignoring him. Undoubtedly Viktor was sending possible ways for them to meet each other, but currently Draco was his world and nothing else particularly interested him. He would deal with all the realities of life eventually, but eventually was yet to reach. All of the concerns of the real world were beyond him now, and at the moment he would not dwell on them. He ceased thinking at all once he entered Draco's room, smiling at the mate who patted the space besides him invitingly.
No, nothing mattered now for Harry except being in his mate's embrace. Everything else could wait. All he wanted was Draco and because he had him and refused to release him anytime soon, the world's concerns would just have to wait in line until he, Harry Potter, chose to listen to them.
