Title: Draco Malfoy, A Fatal Leech
Author: Naatz
Beta-reader: Hota. Thanks!
Rating: PG, for implied situations.
Warnings: Very mild slash, very mild violence.
Disclaimer: I wish I could make some witty comment about Harry Potter not being mine, but the bottom line is still "Harry Potter is not mine".
Summary: Draco is no normal wizard; a half-breed of the veela race by surprise is more like it. He's forced to touch his bond mates to stay alive . . . but it seems to be a problem to keep them alive.
Author's notes: This idea attacked me after seeing a lot of stories where Draco was part veela/vamp/something else, and thus taking me out of my year quietness in this fandom. . . . . Giving credit to Frizzy's 'Magnetic Attraction', since apparently it was the first one to start all of this. This is a satire of the trend. I hope you'll all like it.
Dedication: My Nee-chan, Calendar, for being such a sweetie and encouraging me.
The entire population of Hogwarts knew about veelas. After all, how could they not, when they had a half veela within the student body? They were warned to be wary of Draco Malfoy, as the staff did not know what qualities the young Malfoy had received from his combined heritage.
The students perfectly knew that Lucius Malfoy had killed himself after discovering that his wife -- Narcissa -- had tainted the pure Malfoy blood when Draco's sixteenth birthday arrived and his less dilated veela heritage showed up.
Not that Narcissa knew what her body held deep within her blood, no. She was just as surprised as her husband to see that her family wasn't as pureblooded as everybody assumed.
Narcissa, however, chose to cope with the situation and learn about half-breeds as much as possible, in order to know what will happen to her precious, only son. It was when she was busy in the different libraries researching that Lucius killed himself by overdosing on his slightly poisonous ink, instead of the poison he'd prepared himself -- and was in the vial next to the one that held the ink. He died a slow, painful death. Narcissa understood that Lucius was angry with her so she'd stayed away from his study, only to be told a week afterwards by her house-elves that her husband was found decomposing inside said study.
Wrinkling her nose, she told them to bury him in the yard, clean the room and to fetch her dearest Draco to the library, so she could break him the news about his now deceased father.
She hadn't found much during the summer holidays. Only that any ordinary half-breeds, like dogs, took unexpected qualities from both parents and mixed them to something that was uniquely their own. Under her glare the book immediately burst into flames as her magical energy crackled about it with Narcissa's anger. Petrified, Narcissa immediately took out her wand and doused water on the fire, but the book was forever ruined; it was not readable any longer. Thus any information she could obtain was lost, and Draco was sent back to Hogwarts with no knowledge to what he should be expecting.
As the staff explained all of the above at the beginning of the next year, Draco's sixth, the things that registered in the students' minds were: "Veela. Unexpected events. Attraction. Bond. Death. Life. Half-breeds. Dogs." Considering that those mere words could not describe the events that actually happened, the students were understandably confused.
All except for one, that is, that knew most of the things that were said. Draco Malfoy himself woke up on the day of his sixteenth birthday with a red thread on his little finger of his right hand, which throbbed gently to an unknown heartbeat. Great longing flooded his heart while as great sense of irritation invaded his mind. The bloody thread showed him how much time he had left to live. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was not supposed to die in one year, anyhow.
When he saw Harry Potter at school in potions about month later, his left eye twitched with annoyance. The Boy Who Lived clearly had the other end of the red thread on his own right pinkie; it was obviously annoying him, because Draco saw that Potter tried to remove it by scratching several times. He studied the way his own pulse shot at Potter just as Potter's shot at him, synchronising in the middle, stopping for a bit, and then moving on to tease the other end of the connecting thread. The Life-O-Metre (as Draco called it) showed longevity, so the twitch of his eye turned into an involuntary tick, which attacked him in constant waves of five seconds. Draco, whose life would end in three-hundred-and-nineteen days, was envious of Harry Potter.
After potions, he brushed accidentally against Potter, his palm touching the other boy's. The violent pulse that passed through the thread caused him and Potter to stumble. Draco looked at the thread that was tied to his hand with annoyance, only to have his eyes widen with surprise. The Life-O-Metre showed three-hundred-and-twenty days. Potter eyed him dubiously, but some doubt lingered in his face. The mudblood and the weasel shoved him away angrily, and grabbed Potter away from him.
In other times afterwards he rubbed his skin against Potter's, before he was pushed away by either his subject of life who gave him days -- weeks! -- more to live without knowing it, or the subject's sidekicks. Draco however, wanted more contact with Potter. He noticed that the longer they touched, the more intimately, the number of days he had left to live jumped upwards much more drastically.
. . . which was how Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter became an official and sexually active couple in the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Draco had woken up one night, feeling that something was horribly wrong with the red thread; it was beating a little faster than it should have been. He shrugged it off and went back to sleep.
During breakfast he searched for Potter, whom he expected would sit at the Gryffindor table. Potter was not there. He looked at the red thread to show him where Potter was -- it showed that he was at the table. Draco's eyes widened at the Life-O-Metre, as it was back to one year left to live. Looking at the Gryffindor table, he saw the line joined to someone else. It was impossible. How could it have happened that Granger was his mate? The mudblood! After all the time he'd put into getting Potter he now had to go after Granger! The nerve!
Dumbledore arrived at the Great Hall, looking morose, gloomy and miserable. He announced then that Harry Potter has been killed by the Dark Lord, whose reign still continued. It had taken awhile for Draco to comprehend the news and he stood up snarling, and left the Great Hall for the Slytherin common room, feeling betrayed by Potter, who had dared to die while knowing that Draco needed him to survive.
He conversed with Granger later that day and explained some of the situation rigidly. The mudblood was horrified to discover that she had been marked to bond with Draco Malfoy, but her good, pure heart could not just let him die and rot, so while she was still dating the weasel that she loved, she had slept with him willingly. It had disgusted him to sleep with the mudblood, but Draco Malfoy wanted to preserve himself. He could not die. He would not die.
Three years later, Hermione Granger-Weasley had died at childbirth, delivering twins, who were obviously descended of different fathers. Weasel had given him the babe that was his and warned Draco to stay away from him.
Draco was ready to explode. A second bond mate lost, and he had yet to look for a new one, or he'd die. All of that with a baby in his arm.
Draco Malfoy surmised that it was getting ridiculously tiring, to find new bond-mates to live off from. His veela heritage had done something entirely unexpected, he'd told his mother while she was dying, only connecting him to a person so he could live. While he was fond sometimes of his bond mates, all they needed to do was fuck each other.
Had he mentioned bond mates, plural? Yes, which was the reason Draco was becoming more and more resigned over the years. The first one had been Harry Potter, who died at the hand of Voldemort. Second had been Hermione Granger, who died at childbirth. Third had been Bella Goodday, who had fallen off a cliff. His fourth bond mate slipped over a banana peel, and did not survive the treatment he was given, as his face was entirely shattered into his skull. The fifth developed a fatal disease. The sixth cut her wrists open to make Draco care; he despised the little bitch. His seventh had been raped, murdered and mugged. His latest, a somewhat pleasant wizard managed to die due to snakebite. Was his own 'unique half-breed situation' causing all his bond-mates to drop dead like squashed cockroaches? Suck their life and then they die, only to leave him to search for a new bond-mate?
The last bit of news reached his ears by one of his younger children, Sarah, who was taken by Ben to a field to gather ingredients for a potion Ben had wanted to make. While looking for herbs they'd moved the stones. The season being spring, the snakes started to awaken. One became angry when Ben upset its rest and shot up and bit him. Sarah had been terrified, and kept crying for hours while Ben was dying, not thinking once to go call for help. Her common sense wasn't the best one in the family.
Draco then pondered whether or not he'd go search for a new bond-mate, and decided that yes, he would go to find a new one. No, he didn't want to die. If he wished to live, he would have to have a bond-mate; simple as that.
But he couldn't find one.
It took him months to get to the country he needed to go to -- South Africa -- and then the area -- Eastern Cape -- and the city -- Port Elizabeth, just to get this close. Now he had to search all over the place for the witch or the wizard his body wanted to bond with.
Which was how he got to a small caf? with a view to the sea. She was there, dark and seductive. She also looked like she wouldn't give a damn that she could save a poor half-breed's life. Draco marched to her with an air of regality, and sat down by the same table as she did.
"Good morning," he said.
"It was, until a minute ago," she replied.
Not giving up, he introduced himself. "My name is Draco Malfoy."
Her eyes narrowed. Draco didn't notice it. "You must've heard about me."
"No, 'fraid not."
Not missing a beat, he continued to speak. "I require your help," he raised one of his hands and caressed her skin lightly. "What is your name?" He asked.
Her eyes were turned into slits when she said, "Latro Venator."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Venator."
This time, Latro Venator was the one who didn't miss a beat. "Mrs. Venator."
Draco's speech was taken from him; this wasn't going right. "Pardon?"
"I'm married."
"Oh."
"But I can still spend time with you," Latro smiled coyly. "I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind."
Draco smirked at her, and rose up to his feet. He offered his hand to her, and she took it after placing a hat on top of her head and sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright summer sun.
No one but Latro Venator knew how Draco Malfoy died, that day. Latro Venator was also one of the two people who knew who he was, until one of his children came to identify him. All that Draco knew when she led him into a deserted alleyway was that this would be unforgettable.
Latro Venator wasn't who she introduced herself to be. Her real name was Beauty Harr, but she thought that the name was hardly fit for an assassin who was a vampire. Of course she'd heard about Draco Malfoy, who made the Earth want to kill him, but couldn't because of his superior powers; so it settled down on killing his bond mates instead, hoping to be a pain in his rear. She knew Malfoy had collected a few enemies throughout his life, and wasn't ashamed to contact Harry Weasley -- Ronald Weasley's son through his first wife, Hermione Granger-Weasley -- offering to get rid of the half-breed, once she discovered the dreaded red thread wrapped around her pinky, one of the things wizards dreaded the most, nowadays.
Her bank account was a wee bit more full than it had been a few hours ago, before she met Malfoy. All in all, Malfoy hadn't sucked his life out of her, it was the other way around.
. . . She kept telling herself this until one day, when she trekked through a forest and a land leech attached itself to her foot. She died of an extreme allergic reaction during the same day.