I didn't know what he had done, that summer, to cause him so much pain. I assumed it was Voldemort, tried to ignore the darkness that was so…him. I was in bed for three weeks, comatose, unwilling to live if it meant living without him.

I've loved him since the first day I laid eyes on him.

I was supposed to be inducted into the Death Eaters that summer, but my…condition didn't allow it. Voldemort himself came to my bedside once I awoke.

"Heal quickly, young dragon. Once you have your awakening, come see me. It will do well to have a fully trained Veela in my ranks."

I was amazed.

"You would let me take the ethereal from my father?"

"Of course," he answered. "Your father is…less than desirable, both as a follower and as a Veela. He refuses to learn what he can."

He turned to leave, but paused at the door, turning to me and pinning those blood-red eyes on mine.

"Who do you hate, dragon?" he asked.

I laughed inwardly. He thinks to know my mate by my hatred. Little does he know. The first Veela Shrine in the Malfoy family in a thousand years.

"Parkinson," I answered, full of truth.

I hate her. She's nothing like my Harry.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed with triumph and he left. Pansy Parkinson, a faithful Death Eater already, from a pureblood family with dark leanings. He thought to make her mine. Little did he know. He knew nothing about Veela Shrines, knew nothing about the Order, knew nothing about my true loyalties.

~*~*~*~*~*~


I dreamt that night, dreams I knew I was sharing with my soul mate. I dreamt sunrises and sunsets, dead bodies, rivers of blood, the angel of death, an eagle, a raven, fire, ashes, the two colors swirling into each other. The thought of a scab came into my mind, as I knew it went into Harry's - a thing that begins life red, but ends black.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When school resumed, I could see the change that had come over my beloved. He was finally letting out the darkness in his soul, finally becoming true to himself. He hid it well so as not to scare the people he lived with, but for those who exist in the darkness, it was obvious. He started taking classes with Severus, classes in the dark arts that only ate more at his soul. He excelled at them, to the point of scaring his professor with the Golden Boy's ruthlessness and hatred. It never scared me, as besotted with him as I was. I reveled in his darkness, rejoiced in his soullessness, for it brought us closer.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I watched him over Christmas. He was the only Gryffindor at the school, and I the only Slytherin. We reached a truce, Harry too empty to continue an empty enmity. I was close to him, the one I loved. We spent a lot of time together, playing one-on-one Quidditch, studying, sitting in silence. He told me once about the Sorting Hat, how he thought he'd come to think, over the years, that he'd made a mistake. I brushed his doubts aside. We are the perfect match, beloved, I thought inwardly. The dark Gryffindor and the courageous Slytherin.

It was the best month of my life, December of my seventh year, but the New Year came all too quickly.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the seventh of January and the night of the full moon. I felt the call of the Awakening and crept outside. I made my way to the middle of the Quidditch field and stood basking in the moonlight. My arms stretched out of their own accord and I found myself kneeling.

"Ethereal!" I screamed, my voice beyond my control. "I wake!"

In some part of my mind, I could feel my father screaming in pain, saw the blood running out of back, heard the wings falling off of his back and landing on the floor.

The next instant, I was surrounded by a dark mist.

"You are my next host?" I heard.

"Yes," I replied.

"You are sure?"

"Of course."

The mist seeped into me and spread through my body. I knelt on the field, an excruciating pain in my back forcing me to close my eyes and scream unnaturally. I keened until I was hoarse and the pain in my back became bearable. I reached back to scratch my shoulder and felt wings, covered in liquid. I pulled out a feather and stared at it uncomprehendingly. Silver. Blood.

"You are a true Veela," I heard in my mind. "You have been Awakened. I am your ethereal spirit."

"We are a true Veela," I murmured, still staring at my feather. "We have been Awakened. We are ethereal spirits. We are a Veela Shrine. We love Harry."

~*~*~*~*~*~

When I could stand, I pushed the wings into my back and muttered a quick cleaning spell. I stalked down to the dungeons, went to see Severus. I knocked on his door and he bade me enter. He took one look at me and knew.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Graduation came all too soon, and with it my induction into the Death Eaters. I spied for the Order even as I tortured Muggle and wizard alike.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three years passed and then my father died the same night as ten others. I could feel Harry's fury, his bloodlust. It made visions dance across my mind. I felt the urge of destruction. Voldemort let me out and I went crazy, killing indiscriminately until Harry calmed himself.

When I returned, Voldemort was pleased with me. The dark lord introduced me to the sexual appeal a Veela could wield and I used it against all those I could. It drove them insane. It drove me halfway to madness being so far away from my mate, with the unfulfilled lust of a Siren and a dark ethereal. It broke something inside of me, destroyed my defiance and my pride. I needed him, needed my soul mate, and Voldemort kept me away from him. Without Harry, I was never happy, never filled. There was a void in me that threatened to linger indefinitely. I could feel when he was hurt, could feel when he was angry, could feel the cold darkness that radiated off of him in battle. When his soul and mind left his body, I was confused. I knew he was alive, but he wasn't in one place. His body was fine, safe, but his soul grew heavier as his mind grew larger. I felt his pain once, and feared him dead. His body was changed. He wasn't my Harry any longer.

I kept fighting, stayed alive. I knew he would need me.

They captured me, held me in a prison of my beloved's making for months. I didn't complain. He needed me. I was the only one that could save him from what he had become. I saw him everyday, the ethereal in me communicating somehow with the magic that bound me. My Harry was powerful.

My Harry. The one who had the right to kill me. Had anyone told him what I'd done? I had to live, had to do it for him, so that he could live again.

 My love. The only thing that can keep my sanity.

And I am the only one to keep yours.

~*~*~*~*~

He came. I knew he would.