A/N: Thank you Drone 233248 for your constructive review. I will be explaining why Draco attracts both genders, and not just girls, in this chapter. Without you, however, this conflict might've been left unnoticed and unexplained.

A/N II: Although there are implications towards possible MPREG, I won't be writing about male pregnancy in this story. If anyone wants that kind of stuff, maybe a sequel? Hmm.

8. Black Maria

It was eight o'clock in the afternoon. Harry Potter was bustling and fussing in the middle of his dormitory room, carelessly tossing his belongings into his trunk that would shortly be delivered down the staircases and into the Slytherin dungeons.

"I can't believe this, mate," Ron shook his head. "So soon!"

"It's my own fault, Ron," Harry grunted. "Maybe Malfoy's right. I am bloody stupid."

"No, you're not," said Hermione, who was currently visiting the boys' dormitory. "You were just trying to act accordingly to our plan."

"Yeah," Ron chorused, patting Harry's back. "You had only good intentions. You were just trying to do that git a favour!"

"A real favour it was," Harry huffed, looking sombre. "Nott almost… No, I don't even want to think about it! Eurgh!"

"Why is it that Malfoy attracts men in the first place?" Ron asked, frowning. "You know female Veela do not affect girls, so why would a male Veela affect the both genders?"

"It's because of their unique physique," Hermione knowingly started to explain. "Female Veela can't produce children with another female, it's just impossible. But it's different with male Veela. You see, male Veela can be both the father and the mother for a Veela child. That is why the range of their sex appeal is wider than that of the females."

"Talk English, 'Mione," Ron rolled his eyes.

"What I am saying is that, in addition to the obvious fact that Malfoy can conceive a child with a woman, he also can get pregnant himself, and have a child with another man. That's why he attracts also the male students in our school."

Harry grimaced. "That... That's gross."

"Very disturbing," Ron looked seriously ill.

"Well, it's the fact, believe it or not," Hermione crossed her arms and looked smug. "Male Veela are so very rare that this ability was generously given to them by a long-term evolution. And, to return to our previous subject, this is exactly why you did quite the right thing, Harry, for letting Theodore try his luck with Malfoy. Malfoy may not think himself gay, but if his mate really happens to be a male, he can't help it, and he definitely should check out the boys, too."

"Uh… I guess you're right," Harry examined his almost-full trunk with dismay, furrowing his brows. "But I should be more careful. I don't want anything to happen to him. I'm sick and tired of getting into trouble because of him."

"We must make a plan," Hermione looked eager, rubbing her hands together.

Harry looked disgusted. "I am disgusted."

"Well, how many weeks it is until the medicine arrives?" Ron started to count. "Three? Four?"

"How the hell would I know?" Harry spread his arms in despair. "All I know is that I want to get rid of this job right now! I don't exactly fancy the idea of spending the next month in the dungeons, living among those sick and twisted Slytherins… How the hell can I live through that time? Do I have to keep my wand ready under my pillow every time I go to sleep?"

"That could be wise," said Ron, looking at Harry seriously.

"Aaaaagh! This is getting plain ridiculous," Harry moaned, and dropped his tired body flaccidly on his bed. "How can I protect both Malfoy and myself down there and survive this school year though? My grades are in danger."

Hermione looked extremely worried. "You have a good point there, Harry. Your school will suffer. Imagine that you already had to change your subjects because of that irritating, snobby slime ball. Unbelievable! I sometimes wonder if there's any logic or reason with the policy of this school. I don't understand half the decisions Dumbledore makes."

"Don't even try," Harry spoke into his pillow.

"So, anyway… here's the plan," Hermione smiled and stood up, starting to pace back and forth in the room. "Ron and I will start gathering names."

"Names?" Ron looked confused. "Hermione, don't include me to anything I might not like."

"We'll gather the names of those students who are interested in Malfoy," Hermione explained. "And then we try to arrange proper situations."

"No list is needed," Harry dully remarked, "Unless you plan on listing the whole school, from the youngest first year to Dumbledore himself."

"Ew," Ron shoved his tongue out.

"Well, we must start somewhere, now don't we?" Hermione looked indignant.

Harry turned around and met her determined, hazel eyes. He sighed. "Alright, fine… Whatever."

Just as Hermione was about to start talking about her plans again, the door of the dorm room swung open and Professor McGonagall stepped in. "Are you ready, Mr. Potter?"

Harry rose up from his bed and smoothed his robes. "As ready as I can be, Professor."

"This is very unnerving," McGonagall looked actually sorry. "But I cannot help you. These are the Headmasters' orders."

"I think I can manage, Professor," Harry waved his hand dismissively. "After all, I was pretty close to being sorted into Slytherin in the first place. Now I only get to know if I really could've made it there."

McGonagall didn't seem to understand completely what Harry was saying, but Hermione and Ron rolled their eyes in dismay. Harry looked just smiled tensely, and grabbed Hedwig's cage that was now empty. "Shall we go, Professor?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Get your trunk, Mr. Potter, and follow me. Professor Snape is already waiting for us in the Entrance Hall," McGonagall turned on her heel and marched out of the dormitory.

Harry raised his wand. "Locomotor trunk," he pointed at his trunk, and guided the floating chest out of the dormitory. "Uh… bye then," he nodded at his two best friends, smiling sourly. Then he hastened after McGonagall.

"You'll be hearing from us soon, Harry," Hermione shouted after him, encouragingly. "Don't give up!"

"And remember to keep your wand close to you," Ron reminded.

"Yeah, yeah…" Harry shook his head, and sulked all the way down the stairs.

"Don't look so discouraged, Mr. Potter," McGonagall tried a smile. "It shall only be a few weeks."

Harry sighed. McGonagall was right. Maybe he really shouldn't feel so miserable about this all. He had no real reason to be so pessimistic, had he? After all, he should've gotten used to this kind of bad luck by now. Wasn't it already a fact that Harry Potter's every school year had to be anything but normal?

Harry braced himself, and straightened his pose.

He wouldn't give up. He would live to tell the tale. And keep his sanity, as well.

**

Draco was crusty and irascible. He was standing next to Professor Snape in the Entrance Hall, desperately trying to not bite his nails in nervousness and anger. He was wearing nothing but black, to match his current mood.

"Professor, this really isn't necessary," he tried, the thousandth time. "I don't need Potter down there. Honestly."

"Mr. Malfoy, how many times do I have to tell you?" Snape looked pained. "It is not my decision. It is the Headmaster who decided this. Rest assured, if Potter's fate rested with me, I would be more than happy to lock him up to the Gryffindor tower for the rest of his life!"

Draco conjured up a little whirlwind, to amuse himself, and directed it over Snape's head. The gentle wafts tousled the Potions masters' oily hair and the crook-nosed man cursed. "Drac… Mr. Malfoy, would you please behave yourself!"

"Aw, Sev, come on," Draco whined, leaning sullenly against the wall. "I know you can do something about this. Talk to Dumbledore. Please? I'm sure, if he thinks about this real hard, he will notice that the Slytherin dungeons are not exactly the right kind of place for his golden boy to live in."

Snape grunted, flattening his greasy hair back to its usual, lank position. "Alright, fine. I will try. But I cannot promise you anything."

"Good enough," Draco diminished the little whirlpool and attempted a little grin.

"Here they are," Snape muttered, taking an arrogant pose and turning to face the stairs that led to the upper floors of the castle. "Minerva… and Mr. Potter," he greeted with his most acidic scowl.

Draco glared at Harry. The Gryffindor was wearing a horrible, red turtle-neck pullover under his robes, which almost made Draco vomit there and then. The delicate Malfoy eyes could not hold the offensive sight any longer than a couple of seconds and, shuddering with abhorrence, Draco turned his attention to McGonagall.

"You will take Mr. Potter down to his new room, Severus?" McGonagall spoke rigidly, eyeing the Potions master sceptically.

"I will," Snape answered, his lips curling lopsidedly into a small smirk. "And I will give him a short presentation about the habits of his new house, too."

"Slytherin is not my new house!" Harry protested.

"Silence," Snape snarled. "Slytherin is your new house for the next few weeks, and you will behave like one of us. Rule number one: don't ever speak to the Head of the House –that is me –unless especially given permission to do so."

"Aye, sir," Harry answered, mockingly.

"Mr. Malfoy, how are you doing?" McGonagall asked suddenly, eyeing the blonde in a curious way.

"Peachy," Draco grumbled, derisively.

McGonagall took a few steps closer to him. "You… Are you… sure that…?" she started, but then her irises started to dilate in an eerie way, and she couldn't speak anymore. Timidly, the old woman raised her hand to touch Draco's radiant white hair.

"Aargh!" Draco shouted and jumped out of McGonagall's reach. "Professor!"

Harry was trying to bite back his laughter, however not doing a very good job.

Snape looked at McGonagall most disapprovingly. "Minerva, come into your senses," he snapped.

McGonagall, however, wasn't hearing him. "Mr. Malfoy…" she said, in a soft, far-away voice, and tried to go after Draco, "…what a beautiful boy you are…"

"Eeeeew!" Harry and Draco gagged simultaneously, Harry also laughing.

"Minerva!" Snape waved a hand in front of her face. "Minerva!"

In vain; the poor old woman was completely under Draco's tantalising influence.

"Draco, go out of sight, you're killing her," the Potions master sizzled. "Her pulse cannot stay this way; she'll get a heart attack. Potter! Take your stuff and follow Mr. Malfoy into the common room. Now!"

Draco, being very disgusted with the idea of having Professor McGonagall drooling over him, hastily obliged. Harry followed him close, levitating his heavy trunk behind him.

"Wait, Malfoy!" Harry panted, running down the staircase, trying not to stumble over his feet. "What was all that?"

"What was all that?" Draco echoed the question, whirling around, looking at Harry furiously. "Didn't you just see her? She went wild! Over me! And she's five times my age! Out-and-out revolting!"

"Uh… yeah," Harry tried to maintain a straight face. "It was kind of… um… disturbing."

"You were laughing at us, you perverted beast!" Draco growled.

Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing right then and there, again. "Yeah… whahahahaha… I was… hahahahaha!"

Draco cracked his knuckles, "I am warning you, Potter…"

"Hahahahahahaa…" Harry clutched his stomach and laughed even harder. "It was so… Eurgh!… Hahaahaaahhaha… But w-w-why wasn't S-s-snape drooling over you? Hahaha!"

"For your information, you twat, Snape made a potion for himself," Draco looked very irritated. "It's a really difficult potion to brew, and the ingredients are really rare, but he made it just for this day, because we needed to talk."

Harry tried to gather himself together. "Umm… talk? What about?"

"Hardly any of your business, scarhead," Draco grunted. "Now get your lazy ass moving and drag your stuff into the common room. We must wait Snape there."

Still chuckling, Harry complied, and they walked in a relatively peaceful silence at the Slytherin portrait.

"Lanigiro," Draco told the door, and it opened.

"The password's changed?" Harry asked.

"Yes," answered Draco, shortly.

"Okay," Harry shrugged. "Better than the old one, anyway."

"Yes."

"Am I going to move in the same room with you, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini?"

"Yes."

"And I guess that I will have to spend my evenings with you guys from now on?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask Ron and Hermione for a visit, sometimes?"

"No! Potter, stop asking stupid questions and be silent, will you!" Draco was in the verge of going mad. "You're giving me a head-ache."

"Okay," Harry said, and sat down on one of the green, plush arm-chairs.

"Good," Draco sat in the chair next to him. "Now, we'll wait Snape."

**

Harry stared at the small book of rules in his hand, eyes wide. "A Slytherin's Guide to Irreproachable Behaviour?" he asked, turning to look at Draco in bewilderment.

Snape had just left the two of them in the common room alone, after a fifteen minutes' lecture about how Harry should behave himself down in the Potions Master's Kingdom.

"It's rather interesting, really," Draco smirked at Harry's appalled expression. "Snape's written it himself. You might want to take a look at the page seventeen."

"What's on the page seventeen?" Harry was curious, and started to flip through the pages.

"See for yourself," Draco was amused.

Harry turned the last three or four pages, and finally reached the right entry. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he read the headline. "Refined Sexual Behaviour? He teaches his students sexual behaviour? Um, I mean, he teaches his students sexual behaviour?"

"From the very first year on," Draco chuckled.

"May I just ask you, how in the hell does he know anything about sexual relationships?" Harry sniffed sarcastically. "It's not like he had a wife, or anything."

"Maybe he sleeps with the students, occasionally? Or with McGonagall?" Draco joked.

"God-awful!" Harry gagged.

Draco started to snigger, and Harry turned his attention back to the book. He read some of the advice, unable to believe his eyes.

"Aww… is ickle Harrykins blushing?" Draco giggled. "Is the text too shocking? Has our little Hero Boy never heard before what there is under the girls' robes?"

Harry, who indeed had been blushing after reading some of the advice, felt suddenly very angry.

"You're one to make fun of me, Malfoy," he said, scornfully, and smirked. "Being an expert in the field of sex yourself, and all."

Draco outright gasped with fury after hearing the insult. Then he felt his cheeks going very, very hot with embarrassment. "You… You…!"

"Yes, my oh-so-dear and virginal Draco-buns?" Harry twisted his mouth into a sweet smile.

"I'm going to kill you!"

"Now, now, Ickle Draco-pooh," Harry sounded irritable as hell. "Who would protect you then? Without me, you might well experience your first-ever time with, for example, Trelawney. Now that would be just thrilling, wouldn't it?"

"You audacious, dim-witted wench!"

"Virgin!"

"How dare you! Low-class half-blooded tramp!"

"Cherry!"

Draco couldn't help it; he was too infuriated and embarrassed to remain calm and collected. He leapt up from his chair, and jumped on Harry, bitch-slapping him on the left cheek and trying to rip his hair out.

"You… Fucking… Gryffindor slut!" he yelled. "Apologise me at once!"

Harry cried out in pain when his jaw was hit yet another time, but managed to grab the Slytherin's wrists in a death-grip after a few seconds of fighting and screaming.

"God damn you Draco!" he shouted, "Control yourself, for Merlin's sake!"

After hearing Harry's commanding words, Draco immediately stopped acting like a rampant wild cat, and obediently calmed down.

Harry was now totally confused. "Wow," he said, "Uh… That was… easy?"

"Shut up," Draco sounded dangerous.

They looked each other in the eye for several, quiet seconds. Draco was cursing in his mind, hoping that Harry would not notice what kind of authoritative power he had over the Veela. With a single forcible command, Harry was able to make him do almost anything; the idea of which brought the most disturbing images in Draco's head.

Harry, instead, was trying not to feel warm when feeling Draco's breathing on his face. Simultaneously, he was wondering if the Slytherin Prince was always this erratic and mad in his behaviour.

"Um… Malfoy? You're sitting in my lap," Harry finally croaked out.

Draco flinched, and threw himself backwards so fast that he fell down on the floor in his panic. "Not anymore," he said, sounding very edgy. "Not anymore!"

"You're weird, Malfoy," Harry glared, massaging his aching jaw. Luckily no bones were broken, and no joints were out of place. "And you're a lousy fighter, too," he grinned in conclusion.

"Fuck you," Draco muttered.

"Alright, let's forget this whole mess," Harry said, standing up. "I'm sorry I called you names. Shall we go to our bedroom, then?"

Draco's palate went dry after hearing this statement. "W-what?"

"Our dormitory room, you stupid dick, are we going to take my stuff there or not?" Harry looked at the ceiling, trying to be patient and polite.

"Oh… right," Draco scrambled up from the floor, cheeks ablaze. "Of course."

Harry raised his brow. He did not even try to understand the blonde's behaving. He just levitated his trunk and followed Draco through the damp corridors into the dormitory room that was now going to be his new bedroom, too.

**

Draco lay in his bed, thinking. Potter was driving him crazy. And where was Nymphadora's answer to his letter? Draco was sure that his cousin was deliberately keeping him waiting, out of pure malice. But, then again, Tonks was not an evil person, not really, and Draco knew this. Perhaps she just didn't know what to say? Whatever the case was, Draco was still desperate to hear from her. After all, she was the only person who knew the secret about his true mate, and Draco really wanted to talk about his painstaking state of affairs with someone.

Draco's mind then turned to other issues. He had had a conversation with Snape earlier that day, after the classes. They had talked about Draco's situation, and Draco had told him about his transformations in detail. Snape had been worried about Draco's health, but Draco had dismissed all his worries; after all, they were Draco's classmates who should be afraid for their health, if anything from Theodore Nott's case was to be learned. Snape had promised to find out a way for Draco to control his transformations, so that they wouldn't become so abruptly and cause more chaos.

But that wasn't the biggest worry in Draco's mind right now. No… The more interesting part of their discussion had been concerning Harry Potter, his secret mate. Snape had wondered the reason why Harry was completely immune to the Veela's attraction, and asked Draco if it really was true. Sighing mentally, Draco had admitted that this was the case. Then, Snape had started to pace back and forth in his study, thinking really hard. The Potions master had been sure that he had seen Harry slobber over Fleur Delacour two or three years back. This thought seemed to convince him that there was something really important that Dumbledore was hiding from them. Draco had agreed, and together with his favourite professor, the Veela had decided to find out what the secret factor was.

Draco was genuinely curious. What was the reason for Harry's immunity towards him? It worried the young Slytherin somewhat, to know that even if he'd wanted to charm Harry and have the Gryffindor as his mate, he wouldn't have succeeded. Not that he had ever had any such wishes, though.

In any case, Snape had promised to visit the Ministry archives to find and search through Harry's file. They needed some details if they wanted to get forwards in their investigation. Maybe it was something in the hero boy's heritage that made him so special, yet again?

"Malfoy?"

Draco groaned tiredly, turned on his other side, and faced his new room-mate. "What now, Potter?"

"I'm bored."

Draco gaped at him. "…and?"

"Care to play cards with me?"

Draco gaped more. "…eh…what?"

"Play cards with me," Harry looked frustrated. "I've got a deck of Self-Shuffling Playing Cards in my trunk. Asshole? Casino? Black Maria?"

"…how about no?"

"Come on!" Harry whined. "It's not like any of your buddies down there in the common room want to spend their time with me… so I am stuck here with you."

"Ask Blaise," Draco offered.

"Don't bother, Potter," Blaise answered from the bed that lay next to Draco's. "I'm reading a book."

"See?" Harry asked, poking Draco's bent knee with his index. "You must play with me."

Draco scowled. "Potter, read my lips: fuck off."

Harry crossed his arms and pouted. "Fine."

Draco watched the Gryffindor stomping out of the room. He narrowed his eyes, killing the red pullover at the same time with its wearer. But oh! So very soon after the door has been closed after Harry, a rising panic started to stir in Draco's chest. His breathing became rapid and shallow, and he started to take frequent, nervous glances at Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, who were the other occupants of the room. Blaise seemed to be thankfully absorbed in his book, but Crabbe and Goyle…

Draco bolted up when the two sidekicks turned their heads in his direction, licking their lips. Then he ran out of the room, after his guardian angel. "POTTER!"

Harry was leaning against the wall just outside the room, and Draco ran straight into him. Harry managed to grab Draco from the waist before the Slytherin had the time to fall on his nose.

"Missed me?" Harry grinned, and let go of the blonde.

Draco looked mortified, but relieved. Harry's touch was still lingering on his skin, and he felt very hot. With great effort, he controlled himself and swallowed down the pull of his instincts. "Come back in the room," he mumbled. "I'll play the sodding cards with you. Black Maria."

"You didn't trust Blaise enough to let him take care of the situation if it went out of control?" Harry smirked.

"Not yet," Draco admitted. "He's been behaving really well, but I don't trust him that much, yet."

Harry pushed the door to the dorm room open, and they walked back in. "And do you trust me?"

Draco looked murderous, but still managed to hiss a silent 'yeah'.

"Black Maria it is, then."

**

Draco yawned. "This is getting boring."

"This is only our fourth match, Malfoy, this can't get boring," Harry narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"I'm getting bored because you never win me," Draco drawled, and yawned again.

They were sitting on Harry's bed, cross-legged, the playing-cards spread out in front of them.

"Yeah, well you insisted upon playing the wizard version of the game… I haven't had the time to get used to it, yet," Harry complained.

"What's there to get used to?" Draco wondered. "It's not that much different from the Muggle version, from what I hear from Parkinson."

"The Black Maria talks and flirts with me!" Harry grimaced. "It's very disturbing!"

"Bad excuse," Draco yawned the third time.

"Well, all right… I guess I just need some kind of spark to win this game," Harry explained, "you know, some kind of… a goal. What do I get if I win you?"

"Ah, so you want a bet?" Draco's lips turned into a smirk. "That's the way we Slytherins always play cards."

"Yeah, well, how about it?" Harry asked, biting his lip.

"Hmm," Draco mused, "Why not… But why do you have to get something if you win? It would be more interesting if you had to do something… something really disgusting… if you lose."

"Disgusting like what?" Harry looked suspicious.

"Like… Something really nasty," Draco's eyes gleamed. "Like, for instance, you must go and give a deep French kiss to Snape if… sorry, when you lose."

"Eeew, no way in hell!" Harry looked sickened. "That's too disgusting!"

"You're a homophobe?" Draco raised his brow. He suddenly realised he was slightly afraid of the answer.

"No," Harry said, indignantly, "I just don't fancy Snape too much."

Draco sighed with inner relief and smiled. "How about Trelawney, then?"

"Keep it to the human beings, please!"

Draco laughed. "Goyle or Crabbe?"

"Would you honestly like to see me kissing them?"

Draco thought about it. "Er… no, thank you."

"That's what I thought."

"Then who?"

Harry chuckled. "Does it always have to be about kissing someone?"

"Of course it does," Draco huffed. "That's a tradition."

"Tradition?"

"Yeah, tradition," Draco leaned his back against the pillar of Harry's bed. "For example, last year, Parkinson had to kiss Flitwick, and Nott had to kiss Filch."

"So sick!" Harry declared. "You Slytherins are really twisted people!"

"Aren't we?" Draco beamed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay… fine. Kissing it is, then. But hey! You said to me that you'd never kissed anyone before Seamus attacked you in the library! You were pulling my leg, weren't you? There's no such tradition, is there?"

"Oh, yes, there is," Blaise put in, without averting his eyes from the book. "Draco just always wins the games."

Harry looked at the dark-haired Slytherin eyes wide. "He has never lost a game?"

"Quite true, Potter," Blaise drawled, and turned a page. "He has never lost a game."

"How about that bet then, Potter?" Draco smiled sweetly.

Harry couldn't help starting to think it was a very, very bad idea. "Umm…"

"Scared, Potter?" Draco wriggled his brows.

"You wish!" Harry frowned, and crossed his arms. "You're on."

"Okay," Draco looked triumphant. "The loser has to kiss the winner's fingers… each one of them… suck them in his mouth… and look like as if he was really enjoying it."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "I'm not going to suck your fingers!"

Draco laughed. "Then you better not lose, either, hmm?"

"You revolt me, Malfoy… But… I… I agree. It could actually be nice to humiliate that cockiness out of you, for a short period of time."

Draco grinned and ordered the deck of cards to shuffle.

Blaise snorted, but Harry bravely decided to ignore him.

**

…TBC…