AN: Thank you so so much to everyone who read/favorited/followed! Much love especially to KaneWolfe for reviewing literally every chapter, you're making me blush! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Please, please review! It means so much and it's very motivating for putting chapters up sooner...

Enjoy!


Changing Scenery

Chapter 6: Machinations

The pain started on Wednesday. The warmth from his meeting with Potter on Monday had faded throughout the day on Tuesday, and for the most part Draco had been relieved, but a small, traitorous part of him that he pretended didn't exist had been disappointed. When he'd woken up, he'd felt an all-over ache as though he had the flu. Just like the warmth, he'd decided to ignore it and hope it went away.

He spent the rest of the day trying to distract himself by reading through the books on Veela again and working on controlling his wings. He successfully managed a short flight outside in the garden; he did not manage a successful landing. He was very glad that no one had seen except for one of his father's peacocks.

By the end of the day on Wednesday, he managed to work out how to sheath his wings. Although he was rather fond of them, and had spent more than an hour standing in front of the mirror admiring them, they were somewhat of a nuisance to have out all the time. It wasn't quite comfortable to have them tucked away – his back felt oddly out of shape and his skin felt too tight, even though there was no noticeable sign that he had wings besides two raised red lines running vertically beside his shoulder blades – but it was nice not having to try to compensate for the added weight. He'd nearly fallen on his face walking down the stairs more than once.

When he woke on Thursday, the ache had turned into actual pain that no potion seemed to dim. He'd read as much as he could to discover what was happening. He'd found what he thought was the answer and he was both pleased and displeased. When Blaise dropped by early in the afternoon, he was more than happy to have a distraction.

He met him in the Blue Parlor, which was the most comfortable when he had his wings out, as he did most of the time. He really didn't like the feeling of having them pulled in.

"Blaise, how are you?" Draco asked, walking into the parlor.

Blaise looked up from pouring a cup of tea. "I'm well, Draco."

Draco sat as elegantly as possible, spreading his wings behind the couch. "And your mother?"

"On her honeymoon," Blaise replied dryly. "So I imagine she's perfectly content. For now."

Draco smirked. Madam Zabini was infamous for her string of husbands, although Draco knew that it was a bit of sore spot for Blaise. "So you have the estate to yourself then?"

Blaise smiled slightly. "Yes, for the most part."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I have, most generously, been sharing it with a certain female friend for a couple of months now," Blaise said in his low, smooth drawl.

Draco kept his overt surprise hidden. "A couple of months? That seems unusually long for you to keep a…female friend around."

Blaise smiled again, but softer. "Yes, normally, but she's quite special I assure you."

Draco made a soft noise of agreement and inquiry that Blaise apparently chose to ignore.

"But enough about me, how are things with you? Exponentially more interesting, I presume," Blaise said, a slight dip of his head indicating the wings.

Draco smirked. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." He settled back into the couch.

"I heard Daphne and Astoria were over here the other day."

"Yes. Daphne hasn't changed, as I'm sure you know. Astoria is a sweet little thing, though."

Blaise quirked a brow. "Not like her sister, then?"

"Not at all," Draco said, keeping his face neutral when the pain in his abdomen became stabbing as he talked about Astoria.

"I'm sure your mother is pleased you find her sweet."

Draco only barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I'm turning into Potter. Although his eyes are a lovely shade of green… fuck. With an effort he dragged his mind away from Potter and back to Astoria. "She was quite pleased with the luncheon, I believe."

"Were you?" Blaise asked, as if the answer didn't matter all.

"It was agreeable," Draco lied. He only just managed to keep a wince off his face when his back started spasming.

Blaise idly picked up his teacup and took a sip. "My mother has been hinting, ever so subtly, of course, that it is time I thought about producing an heir."

"My mother has similar aspirations," Draco said. He tried to imagine producing an heir with Astoria. The nausea he'd felt after kissing her hand returned tenfold, and the pain in his chest became blinding. Dots started blotting out his vision and he couldn't keep himself from hunching over to try to minimize the pain. His wings curled over him, blocking the light from the window.

Why is this happening? I don't really want to marry her!

Dimly, he was aware that Blaise was calling his name.

"Draco? Draco!"

All he could think about was the pain. Bloody Veela heritage!

"Draco, mate, what the hell is wrong with you?" Blaise grabbed his shoulder. When did he get over here? "Should I call a Healer?"

Draco moved his shoulder to get Blaise to let go. It was barely more than a twitch, but he seemed to understand. "I'm fine," he gritted, forcing himself out of a ball and flexing his wings. "Let's talk about something else."

Blaise returned to his seat, staring at him warily. "Sure. Let's start with what the fuck just happened."

Draco rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the cramps that had developed. He tried to think random thoughts to take his mind off…her. He ran through the financial figures he'd reviewed this week, then mentally counted off all the animals currently on Manor grounds. By the time he'd finished, the nausea had passed and he was able to sit up straight without wincing.

Draco took a deep breath. Blaise was his closest friend, he could tell him. "I think I'm having mating pains," he muttered.

Blaise frowned. "Mating pains? Is that a Veela thing?"

Draco shrugged a shoulder. "An unfortunate side effect. From what I've read, after I've transformed, once I meet my mate, or mates, I will experience increasing discomfort and pain unless I am in close proximity or physical contact with them until we've bonded," he quoted. He scowled. "And apparently, I experience discomfort and pain when discussing those who are not my mate in such a context."

Blaise grimaced. "That's shit luck. I take it your mate is not one of the Greengrass sisters?"

Draco's wings flared without conscious thought. "Definitely not."

Blaise eyed his wings for a moment before turning his attention back to Draco. "Do you know who your mate is, then? You can't have met that many people since you transformed."

Draco rolled his shoulders again. He was fairly certain who they were, but he absolutely did not want to believe it. Maybe it's just because they're the people who rescued me? That must be it. He ignored the fact that they hadn't actually been the ones to find him. "I know who they are."

Blaise's eyes widened, as Draco had thought they would. "They?"

Draco tried to smirk but it fell flat. Instead he shrugged again. "It happens, sometimes."

"How many?"

"Two."

Blaise leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Triads aren't that common anymore." He pointed a finger at Draco. "You're special."

"Of course," Draco drawled.

Blaise smirked snidely. "So you know who your mates are, but you haven't claimed them?" He cocked his head to the side.

Draco took a sip of his now-cold tea. "They aren't the sort of people to be receptive to the old ideas about Veelas and their mates."

Blaise frowned. "Not purebloods then. Even though the lot of them would never admit it, they're a bunch of romantics about Veelas. My mother used to tell me bedtime stories about soulmates. Utter nonsense, of course."

Draco smirked. Daphne certainly seemed intrigued. "It's not exactly romantic, no. But you are correct, not purebloods."

"Well that narrows the list down considerably. How many people who aren't purebloods do you interact with anyway? It can't be many."

Draco shrugged. It was true, after the war he hadn't made an effort to expand his social circle. "It's not."

"Merlin's balls, Draco. How many Muggle-borns can you possibly have met in a week?"

Draco noted that Blaise hadn't said Mudblood. Not that Draco himself was comfortable with the word anymore. Too many bad memories, too much hypocrisy. His wings fluttered slightly in what could have passed as a shiver. "I don't have to have just met them," Draco replied, deciding to give Blaise a little help.

"Ah." Blaise tapped a finger against his lip. "Still not helpful. It's not like I know your schedule. I have an actual life." Blaise smirked at him.

Draco gave in and rolled his eyes. "Unlike you, I actually run my own estate."

Blaise grinned. "Why on earth would I involve myself in paperwork when I can hire someone to do it?"

Draco decided a lecture on fiscal responsibility would be wasted on Blaise. "Well if you're really seeing someone then I doubt you have as much of a life as you used to."

Blaise shrugged. "We're not exclusive."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Does she know that?"

"She suggested it." Blaise sighed. "She's perfect."

"Spare me the details."

Blaise smirked. "She's in town this weekend; you should come out with us."

"No, thank you," Draco said dryly. "I have no desire to tag along on your date."

"Not a date," Blaise said. "She's inviting a few of her friends. Might as well invite a few of my own."

"How many of our 'old friends' do you still speak to?" Draco inquired.

"Well, not many," Blaise admitted.

"Then invite the others and I'll think about it."

Blaise smiled slightly. "Good. But don't think I've forgotten that you never told me who your mates are."

"Are you giving up already?" Draco mocked.

Blaise gave him the look of bored disappointment that Draco was sure he'd learned from Madam Zabini.

Draco flicked his fringe out his face. "Fine. They're Potter and Granger."

Blaise leaned forward and gaped, seemingly struck dumb. He sputtered before managing to form words. "Potter? And Granger? Oh, mate, you are so fucked."

As he lay in bed that night, Draco thought about what to do. Blaise wasn't entirely wrong. I am fucked. But hopefully it's not all one-sided. Telling Blaise about his mates had helped him admit to himself that he did know who they were. Of course, he'd known from the first moment in that safe house as he stared down at them. He just hadn't wanted to admit it. Part of him, the part that still clung to the hope that he would wake up the next morning with no wings, hoped that if he denied it, it wouldn't be true. But the pain had only been getting worse and he was fairly certain he had a fever.

In the darkness and privacy of his room with his wings curled around him, Draco could admit to himself, finally, that he was pleased to have found his mates. His thoughts after he'd been rescued had still been controlled by the Veela and when he'd looked at them it was as though they were surrounding by shining halos. They hadn't been, of course, but in the eyes of his Veela they had both looked utterly perfect. Neither of them had been far from his mind in the days since then, although he'd had better control after the Veela had subsided back into the recesses of his mind.

When he'd gone in to see Potter on Monday, the Veela had come out to play and the urge to go around the desk and wrap Potter up in his wings had very nearly overtaken him. He'd been too stressed and in too much denial to admit what he felt, and he'd masked it with annoyance and anger. The reading he'd done during the week had only confirmed what his Veela had already known – Potter was his mate.

He hadn't known that Granger was also his mate until after the luncheon with Daphne and Astoria. After that, it was obvious. He had wanted to scrub himself raw after kissing the Greengrass sisters, even though it had been the most proper of kisses, and on their hands, no less. But the feeling of wrongness hadn't abated until after a long shower. And the driving urge to go find her hadn't abated until he'd turned the water as cold as it could get.

He fell asleep that night thinking of green eyes and curly brown hair.

In the morning, Draco sent off an owl to Blaise letting him know that he would be at the club Blaise had mentioned before leaving the day before. If the girl Blaise was seeing was inviting her own friends, that meant they weren't Blaise's friends, which meant they were almost certainly not Slytherins or purebloods. And that meant there was a solid chance they would be Gryffindors. Even if Potter or Granger weren't there, the night may prove useful as a way to start ingratiating himself with their friends.

He went down to breakfast with a lightness he hadn't felt since returning to the Manor. His mother was already in the solarium, sipping a cup of tea and staring out into the gardens. A place had already been laid for him across the table with a copy of The Daily Prophet lying beside his plate. He sat down and gently placed a linen napkin in his lap.

"Good morning, Mother."

She turned and smiled at him. "Good morning, Draco."

"How are you?"

And elf popped in and placed a plate of fresh scones and various toppings on the table.

"I'm well," she said, delicately selecting a scone. "How did you sleep?"

Draco helped himself. "Quite well."

Talk subsided as they ate a few bites. Draco started reading the newspaper. It was mostly nonsense, but occasionally there was something of substance. So far, nothing about him or his case had popped up. He should really give the Aurors more credit. Thinking about the Aurors called up visions of Potter and he had to push away those thoughts or he'd need another cold shower. He was getting rather tired of those.

"Was that Blaise who came to the house yesterday?"

Draco glanced up from reading the Prophet. "Yes, it was. He dropped in for a visit."

"That's nice," his mother said neutrally. She'd never much liked Madam Zabini, but the Zabinis were purebloods and therefore couldn't be snubbed.

"Yes, we had a nice chat. I'll be going out with him tonight."

"Hmm." She eyed him over her teacup. "How have you been, dear?"

"I'm…better now. I was feeling unwell but I think I've solved the problem." It was true. Ever since he'd told Blaise about his mates, the aches and pains had diminished and his fever had disappeared.

His mother frowned, as close to outward concern as she would get now that the war was over. "You were unwell? Why did you not tell me?"

Draco set the paper aside. "I didn't wish to worry you."

"I am not a wilting flower, I am your mother." She gave him a look. "Next time, you will tell me."

Draco smiled at her indulgently. "Of course, Mother. But really, it was nothing to worry about. I told you, I've solved the problem."

His mother took a delicate bite of her scone. "And what was the problem?"

He shrugged. "Mating pains."

His mother sat bolt upright. "Mating pains? You mean, you've found your mate?"

Draco calmly selected a scone off the plate, cut it in half, and then spread marmalade evenly across one half. When he looked up again at his mother, he was certain her look would have caused one of the society pureblood witches to flee. Draco smirked. "Yes, I have. Two of them, in fact."

She leaned forward. "Two? You have two mates? Oh that's wonderful, Draco! There hasn't been a triad in more than two decades!"

"So Blaise informed me." Draco took a bit of his scone.

His mother looked at him disapprovingly. "You told Blaise of this?" The before me was implied.

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.

His mother settled back in her chair, back perfectly straight, and took a sip of tea. "Who are they?"

Draco grinned. "Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

The sound of china shattering on stone echoed through the room.

Draco made his way to his study upstairs after breakfast. He settled into his comfortable leather chair, a satisfied grin making its way onto his face. His mother might be in shock now, but he was sure she would warm to the idea and turn her mind to ways of this information to their advantage. He was looking forward to that discussion. An owl arrived to interrupt his thoughts. He recognized the handwriting and opened it to find a short note from Blaise with instructions on how to Apparate to the club that night. It was in London, quite far from Diagon Alley, but that probably suited the proprietors and visitors alike.

He spent the rest of the morning working on estate business. When the Wizengamot had revoked his father's title as Head of House, the burden had fallen to Draco. In order to keep up with the many investments, properties, and businesses, he had to spend several hours a day looking over reports, even with several teams of highly qualified businessmen and lawyers to oversee most of the Malfoy interests. He found it far more interesting than he had originally anticipated, but it was still tiring work.

After reviewing a monthly report from the wizard in charge of the Arithmancy Division at Malfoy Enterprises, Draco sat back. Like the last three reports from that wizard, it had been disappointing. Although couched in fancy language, it essentially said that, so far, he had yet to accomplish anything. Draco had hired the man a year ago and he had proved to be entirely disappointing thus far. He needed to replace him. No one immediately came to mind and with a sigh, he set the report aside to be dealt with later.

Lunch came and went before he finished early in the afternoon. He set aside the last sheath of parchment happily. Now that business was out of the way, he could focus on pleasure.

He had a seduction to plan.

Draco Apparated to the club at half ten. Early enough to enjoy a few drinks before the masses descended, late enough to make a statement. He hadn't been to this particular club before, but he'd been to many like it. He walked up to the door and used his wand to open it. Once inside, people parted before him as he strode up to the front of the line. The stares he received were entirely because of his name and his looks; he'd tucked away his wings for the evening. He'd chosen his outfit carefully this evening to highlight all of his best features and apparently, it had worked. The bouncer took one look at him and bowed him past. The coat witch in the next room took his outer robes and then directed him up a small hidden stairwell.

The stairwell, like everything else he'd seen of the club, was completely black, illuminated only by small witch lights. The door of the top of the stairs opened into a luxurious office, where Blaise sat on a white couch near a bank of windows.

Blaise looked up at his entrance. "Evening, Draco."

Draco looked around and then raised his eyebrow in question.

Blaise smirked. "Did I forget to mention? I own this place."

Draco went over and took a seat on the couch opposite Blaise. "It's nice." He glanced down at the dance floor through the window. "Busy."

"Business is good." Blaise raised his tumbler. "Drink?"

"Yes, please." Blaise Summoned a glass and poured Draco a drink from the decanter sitting on the table between them. He offered it to Draco, who took it and then saluted Blaise.

"What are we drinking to this evening?" Blaise asked, swirling the amber liquid.

"To success," Draco drawled.

Blaise smiled, raising his glass. "To success."

They clinked their glasses.

Draco took a sip and felt the warming effects of Firewhisky fill him from toes to crown. They sat in silence for a moment before Draco looked over at Blaise, who was staring down at the dance floor below. "Is your witch here yet?"

Blaise nodded. "She arrived over an hour ago. She and her friends are in one of the rooms upstairs. My treat."

"How magnanimous of you."

Blaise slid his glance over to Draco. "She had a very interesting friend with her."

"Oh?" Draco took another sip of Firewhisky.

"Indeed. It seems as though Miss Granger has decided to patronize my club this evening."

The Veela leaped to attention in Draco's mind and he had to exercise a great deal of restraint to keep his wings from exploding out of his back. "Is that so?" Draco choked out.

"She looked particularly…mouthwatering, tonight."

Mine! Draco glared at him murderously.

Blaise grinned. "You've got it bad."

Draco scowled, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension there. "Well it's not exactly voluntary."

"Would you change it?" Blaise asked idly. "If you could?"

No! Mine! My mates! Mine! Draco forced himself to think beyond the instinctive reaction of his Veela. While he wasn't particularly pleased about being forced into mating with them, they were far from being the least appealing candidates. If he were honest with himself, something he rarely strove to be, he'd found them interesting long before his transformation. "No, I don't think so.

"Interesting. Well, in that case, let's go find your mate, shall we?" Blaise downed the rest of his drink.

Draco finished the last swallow in his glass and then stood.

He followed Blaise down the stairs and to the bar at one end of the large room which held the dance floor. They both ordered drinks, which were delivered promptly. Blaise got another Firewhisky. Draco ordered a Silver Sickle. When he turned away from the bar, his gaze was immediately drawn up to one of the large windows that lined the second floor. A gaggle of witches were very nearly pressed against the glass, but his attention was focused solely on a certain curly-haired brunette hanging back from the group. He made eye contact with her. He could feel his Veela take hold and only the barest remnant of control kept his wings from unfurling.

He took a slow sip of his drink, never taking his gaze from her. She was wide-eyed and he had to agree with Blaise's assessment. She did indeed look mouthwatering. I want to take her to bed and stay there for the rest of eternity. He could see himself peeling off her dress and kissing and licking his way down her body. I want to taste every inch of her. When he lowered his drink, a single drop hung on his lip. His Veela had already formed a connection with her mind, and when he licked his lip, he could see when she felt it by the jerk of her shoulders. She brought a hand up to touch her lip. He winked.

Oh yes. You're mine.