AN: Oh you darling dears, I apologize for the long wait on this chapter, especially after that cliff-hanger! Thank you so, so much to everyone who favorited/followed, even though there was a long delay. And sparkly hugs for everyone who reviewed, your words are what motivates me to write when real life does its best to instill writer's block, so extra special thanks to: ArielNicholas913, anjiepotter05, kanewolfe, LightofEvolution, flames4thought, kkcnelson2002, Rainmask888, cochran4444,lmm2369, meerkaat, JLLove, her-my-own, Lydia-Rashel, Cecily Mitchell, Black Banshee, Ardentlyadmired, and guests!
For various reasons, I decided to go with Harry's perspective for this chapter, so Draco will be up next again :) Enjoy!
Changing Scenery
Chapter 17: Mates
Harry looked back and forth between Malfoy and Hermione, bewildered. Malfoy was smirking and Hermione looked shocked.
They'd been having what Harry personally thought was a really satisfying and long overdue snog and now Hermione seemed to have forgotten about him entirely. She was staring at Malfoy and practically panting when she remembered to breathe, drawing his eye to the low neck of her gown. He was pretty sure she never would have bought something like this normally. I'll have to send Ginny flowers.
"What's us?" Harry asked when no one had said anything for nearly a minute.
"Uh…" Hermione stopped and bit her lip.
Becoming aware that it wasn't really comfortable to be half-leaning forward, he leaned back a little, half his weight on the knee that had somehow ended up on the couch next to Hermione's leg. He could feel the feathers of Malfoy's wing brushing against the back of his robes.
He looked at Malfoy and raised an eyebrow in question.
"Do you know anything about Veela, Potter?" Malfoy asked, dodging the question.
Harry frowned. So this has something to do with Veela? He wished he'd paid more attention when Bill talked about Fleur, but their wedded bliss could get overwhelming and he usually found a reason to be somewhere else when Bill started waxing poetic about Fleur's many charms. There was a reason he'd brought in Hermione for Malfoy's case.
"Er, not much, actually."
Malfoy didn't look surprised and the smirk hadn't left his face. "We're quite special, as you can see." He flexed his wings, ruffling his feathers and making them flash in the firelight.
"Yes, so?"
"So, one of the things that makes Veela so special is having a mate."
"What does that have to with me and Hermione?" he asked, annoyed. The heat inside the cocoon of Malfoy's wings was a bit intense, and a bead of sweat was starting to gather at his temple. He was pretty sure that wasn't why he snapped a bit, though.
"We're his mates," Hermione blurted.
Harry stared at her. "We are?"
She bit her lip again. "Yes."
He shook his head. "That doesn't make sense."
Malfoy scoffed. "Of course it does."
Harry glared at him. "I didn't ask you."
"You didn't ask anyone," Malfoy pointed out, and even though the smirk was gone, the infuriatingly helpful expression that replaced it wasn't better.
Harry sneered, but Hermione interrupted before he could respond.
"He's right, Harry. It does make sense – all Veelas have a mate, or two, in Malfoy's case."
Of course Malfoy's fucking special. "And why does this make sense? I don't see why it has to be us."
"It's not a choice, Potter," Malfoy drawled.
"More's the pity," Harry snapped.
Malfoy had the nerve to be unaffected. And bugger it all, why does he have to look so fucking perfect? He could have stepped off the pages of a muggle fashion magazine, or out of the pages of Witch Weekly, which had done a story on him last month. Not that he'd read it.
"Harry," Hermione said, reproachful. "Malfoy's right."
Hearing that for the second time didn't make it sound any stranger.
"So we're just supposed to accept that we're his mates?" Great. Just fucking great.
"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "We do have the right to refuse."
"And if we do? What happens to him?" Harry purposely didn't look at Malfoy while he waited for Hermione's reply.
Hermione hesitated before replying. "He won't die, but he would get progressively more uncomfortable until eventually the mating pains started to fade, but every time he saw one of us, or thought of us, or heard about us, they'd come back."
"And since we're in the news all the time…" Harry murmured.
"Right. And if they progressed too far, they could drive him mad."
"A pleasant prospect," Malfoy muttered.
"So we don't really have a choice." Harry rubbed a hand through his hair, ruining what was left of the neat arrangement he'd managed to get it into.
"We do, Harry," Hermione said, taking his hand.
Harry sighed and looked at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He'd lost the easy confidence he'd exuded from the first time Harry had seen him that evening and was now eyeing him warily.
"Convenient that you didn't mention any of this earlier," Harry said mutinously.
Malfoy sneered. "And what would have done if I had? Run into my arms?"
Possibly. "No. But you tricked us!"
"How did I manage that?" Malfoy asked, smirking again.
"You…you tried to seduce us! First at that club and then again tonight!" Harry said indignantly.
Malfoy leaned forward, all trace of amusement gone, replaced by heat and just enough darkness to have Harry shivering in something that definitely wasn't fear. "And did I succeed?"
"Uh…" Harry leaned back, but found himself enclosed by Malfoy's wing. He knew very well that if he really wanted to, he could pull out his wand and leave, but he was equally sure he didn't want to.
"Did I entice you? Did I seduce you?" Malfoy leaned further forward, and Harry could feel his warm breath puffing against his lips. "Did you think of me?" His voice lowered. "Did you think of her? Did you think of us?"
Then Malfoy's lips were on his, all anger and lust. He felt Malfoy's teeth against his lips and then his tongue was there and Harry let him in and he felt his eyes roll back even as his eyelids fell shut. Malfoy tasted like champagne and chocolate. One of Malfoy's hands was on his shoulder and the other had found its way to his hip underneath his dress robes, the heat burning through his shirt. Harry wasn't sure how, but one of his own hands had ended up cupping the back of Malfoy's neck, his fingers twisting in the strands there, and the other was clutching Malfoy's upper arm.
He could still feel Hermione's thigh pressed against his lower leg, but he was surprised when he felt her hand settle on his thigh. He was more surprised when he felt her lips against the side of his neck. He moaned at the feeling, and he would have felt embarrassed if Malfoy hadn't moaned a second later when he somehow managed to get his hand under Harry's shirt.
Harry tugged harder on Malfoy's hair, angling his head so that he had a better angle to snog Malfoy and Hermione had a better angle for the maddening nibbling she was doing on his neck. He managed to get the hand he'd had on Malfoy's arm around Hermione, slipping his fingers underneath the low back of the dress that had been teasing him all night. When she'd danced with Malfoy earlier, he'd wanted nothing more than to pull her into a dark alcove and have his way with her. Well, both of them, if he were honest with himself.
Considering he was currently locked in a three-way snog, it seemed a little silly to deny that he desperately wanted both of them. No matter how infuriating a git Malfoy is. An infuriating git with an extremely talented tongue.
Harry groaned when Malfoy's hand slid down over his groin, brushing against his erection. He'd been half hard since he saw Malfoy whispering into Hermione's ear on the dance floor, and having both of them under his hands had only made the problem worse. Malfoy stroked it, and he bit Malfoy's lip in retaliation, drawing a groan from him.
Beside him, Hermione moaned softly, and Harry managed to open his eyes enough to see that Malfoy had his other hand on Hermione's breast and was flicking his thumb over her nipple, which was poking out against the silky fabric. He couldn't help but slip his hand further down her back, his fingers grazing against the top curve of her arse underneath her dress. When she moaned again, he felt himself somehow get harder.
Harry went back to kissing Malfoy with renewed vigor, taking out his annoyance at being left in the dark, at being left alone in the club, at being teased relentlessly for weeks now, on him. He thrust his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, garnering another groan. He noticed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Malfoy's wings had closed in around them, blanketing them in heat and energy and desire.
Harry wasn't sure how long they'd been there when there was a thump against the door, and then someone jiggling the doorknob, and then the muffled sound of giggles fading away. He pulled away, breathing harshly.
"We should stop," he managed to say.
"Fucking hell, Potter," Malfoy said, voice raspy.
"We're…we're practically in public, Malfoy," Harry said, shaking his head slightly to clear it.
"I don't care," Malfoy snarled, grabbing the back of Harry's head and smashing their mouths together again. Harry lost himself for a moment before jerking back.
He panted heavily. "Public, Malfoy. There are people everywhere!"
"Locking spells, Potter." He ran a hand over Harry's erection again and Harry felt his eyes flutter shut for a moment before he forced them open again, pushing Malfoy's hand away.
"This is your party, Malfoy. People will miss you," Harry argued.
"I guarantee no one cares," Malfoy replied. "They're probably all doing the same thing we are. Or were," he tacked on, clearly resentful.
Hermione seemed to come back to herself. "Maybe Harry's right. And besides, we shouldn't go further until we've talked more about what this means," she said, motioning to the three of them.
That wasn't quite what Harry had been thinking about, but he supposed that was true as well.
Malfoy smirked. "This is what it means." He leaned in and kissed Hermione, snogging her thoroughly, both hands on her breasts. Harry watched, mesmerized, as Hermione slowly fell apart underneath Malfoy's hands. Malfoy turned his attention to her neck, nipping down the length of her throat before sucking a bright red mark on the curve of her shoulder. Harry adjusted himself half-consciously.
Malfoy looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Still want to stop?" he murmured, pinching one of Hermione's nipples until she moaned.
Harry swallowed. "We should," he said, voice husky. That sounded convincing. He cleared his throat. "Yes, we should stop."
Malfoy glared but pulled back, although he left his wings surrounding them.
"Well, Potter?"
"Er…"
Hermione sat up straight, adjusting the neck of her dress. Harry made a concerted effort not to stare.
"We should talk," Hermione said firmly.
Malfoy's wings rustled. "About what? I think it's fairly straightforward."
"For you, perhaps," Hermione reproached.
Harry had the distinct feeling he was the only one who didn't know what was going on. He felt like he was back at Hogwarts.
"Someone explain," he demanded.
"I already did, Potter. We're mates. It's not complicated." Malfoy finally pulled back his wings, tucking them behind his back.
Harry returned to his seat across from them. "But you didn't explain what happens now."
"We have to decide whether or not we accept him," Hermione said softly.
"Right now?" Harry asked, panicked. He was not ready to make that choice.
"No, but probably soon," Hermione replied.
"That would be preferable," Malfoy drawled.
"What would happen if we did accept him? Accept this?" He gestured between them, glancing at Malfoy, who was sitting with his arms crossed.
"We'd probably move in together, and then we'd go through a bonding ceremony."
Harry frowned. Bonding ceremonies were sometimes part of cases at the DMLE, and rarely in a good way. "What kind of bonding ceremony?"
"It would be a lot like a traditional wizarding wedding," Hermione replied.
"So, we'd be married?"
"Essentially." Hermione leaned forward. "It's not dangerous. Bill and Fleur went through the same ceremony."
"Then how is it different from a traditional wizarding wedding?" It sounded like there was another shoe waiting to drop.
"It's for life."
There it is.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "What if we go through with all this and we hate each other in five years? We live in the same house and don't speak to each other?"
"You think you'd hate us?" Hermione asked, clearly hurt.
Harry sighed. "No." But life sentences aren't exactly comforting.
Hermione seemed to realize what he was thinking. "We don't have to do everything all at once. We're not in a rush."
Malfoy scoffed quietly, his first contribution to the conversation. Hermione glared at him.
"We're not," she insisted. "Are we?"
Malfoy sneered, but then he sighed petulantly. "No."
"You see?" she said brightly, turning back to face him. "We can just treat this like a normal, uh, relationship." She blushed.
Relationship? Oh bloody hell. It made sense of course, but he hadn't thought about this as being a relationship. As something involving feelings. He'd only just worked up the nerve to tell Hermione how he felt, and he'd had plenty of time to work out his feelings for her. With Malfoy…
"Can three people even have a relationship?"
"Absolutely," Hermione replied immediately. "You, Ron, and I were all friends weren't we? It's just like that. But with, uh, with love." Her voice grew squeaky on the last word.
Love? Harry looked over at Malfoy, who was now glaring at the fire. How on earth could this possibly work?
Harry rubbed a hand a hand through his hair. "Do you want this, Malfoy? Er, want us, I mean? In a relationship, that is. Not, uh, in, in that way." Harry flushed, but he hoped it just looked like heat from the fire. It was pretty clear that Malfoy wanted them in that way.
Malfoy sighed deeply, unfolding his arms. "Yes, probably."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"It means I don't know, Potter. I don't have all the answers. My Veela is perfectly happy to bond with you right now, to lock you in my bedroom and keep you there forever. But the rest of me knows that we've barely spoken a dozen words in the last six years. And the words before that…" Malfoy paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well. We don't exactly have the best foundation for amicable coworkers, let alone a happy marriage, do we?"
It was weirdly comforting that Malfoy sounded just as confused as he was.
"So then what are we supposed to do?"
"We could try dating," Hermione suggested.
Malfoy snorted. "Dating."
Hermione frowned at him. "What's wrong with dating?"
"I wouldn't…" Malfoy sighed again. "Dating is a bit of a muggle thing. And besides, Veela don't date, they court. Manners and tradition dictate that I, as the Veela, should court my mates. Dating is much too casual."
"You want to court us?" Harry asked skeptically.
Malfoy shrugged, shoulders stiff.
"Er, I suppose that's alright."
Malfoy looked at him sharply.
"I mean, I don't really know what that means, but it's worth a try, I suppose." What the hell.
"It's traditional, like muggle practices in the past. Very formal," Hermione added.
"It's less formal now," Malfoy corrected. "Purebloods aren't exactly up-to-date, but the traditions are less strict than they were four hundred years ago," he added wryly.
"So, that's settled, then?" Harry asked after an awkward pause.
Hermione nodded. "I think it's a good place to start."
They'd returned to ballroom after reaching their agreement, Malfoy grumbling under his breath during the trip, but more time had passed than Harry had thought, and most people had either gone home or disappeared somewhere. Only a few people were still dancing, with a few more were scattered around the edges, drinking and nibbling on the remnants of the nearly-empty buffet table.
Catching sight of a distinctive set of robes, Harry jerked. Fuck. He'd completely forgotten that he was in charge of security for tonight. Muttering an apology, he rushed out onto the balcony, catching up to the patrolling Auror.
"Bennett, report?" he requested, just barely out of breath.
Bennett's face was blank, not indicating one way or the other what he thought of Harry's sudden appearance, and what Harry could feel were his slightly swollen lips.
"All clear, sir. No unusual disturbances."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Unusual?"
"There were, of course, the usual disturbances to be expected on Samhain." His poker face slipped a bit with the twitch of his lip into a hint of a smile.
"Ah, of course." Harry now knew quite intimately what those disturbances entailed. "Thank you, Bennett."
Bennett nodded his head and returned to his patrol, looking out over the dark gardens.
Harry went back inside, seeing Malfoy talking quietly to Hermione against one wall. Harry rejoined them.
Hermione smiled at him. "I was just telling Malfoy that it might be time for me to go home."
Harry glanced at his watch, noting that it was nearly two in the morning. "That's probably smart. Are you going in to work tomorrow?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I have too much to do now that I've officially resigned to miss a day."
"Makes sense. I'll see you there, then. Lunch?"
Hermione smiled. "Yes, sounds good. Good night, Harry." She turned to Malfoy. "Would you mind showing me where the Floo is? I'm a bit too tired to Apparate."
Malfoy held out his arm to her. "Follow me."
Harry watched them leave, wishing he could follow but knowing he had to deal with the Aurors. He groaned.
There wasn't enough Pepper-Up in the world to make him feel at all ready for work the next morning. Harry dragged himself out of bed at eight and barely made it in on time.
He went through two cups of coffee while he worked through the reports from the night before. All the Aurors who'd worked last night had the day off today, but he didn't get that luxury since he had to report to Robards. Besides that, Dunham's trial was scheduled to start that afternoon with an initial hearing of the Wizengamot. They'd just be going through statements, and fortunately, the only people who had to be there were the lawyers. Before the war, the case would have simply gone before the Wizengamot and been decided, but Robards, with the help of the few Muggle-borns and half-bloods in the Ministry, had pushed through reforms to the DMLE to modernize it and make the justice system more fair. Hermione had been very involved.
Harry prepared the last of the statements for the case, double-checking them, and then sent them over to the legal office of the DMLE with the paper-plane charm.
At eleven o'clock, he went into Robards' office to deliver his report on the Samhain ball.
Robards let him in after he knocked, waving a hand to indicate he could sit.
"Potter." He nodded his head in greeting. "How was last night?"
Harry handed over the collection or reports. "Good, sir. There were no disturbances. Everything went smoothly."
Robards quickly skimmed the write-up Harry had put on the top of the pile. "Very good. Any trouble with the Malfoys?"
Harry fought down a flush. Not that kind of trouble. "No, sir. They were very hospitable."
"Hm." He flipped through the reports before setting them aside. "And the Dunham case?"
"The first hearing is this afternoon at two o'clock. I've already sent over the statements."
Robards tapped his fingers against his desk. "Did Dunham hire a lawyer?"
Harry shook his head. "Said he didn't need one because he wasn't guilty." Harry resisted the urge to grimace.
Robards shook his head. "The mad ones are almost worse. Well, keep me updated."
Harry nodded and left.
When he showed up at Hermione's office at half-past twelve and knocked, he wasn't at all surprised to see her buried in work. He knocked on her door again to get her attention. Her head jerked up and then she blushed.
"I promised myself I wasn't going to forget." She looked down at her papers and sighed as she stood up. "I swear it multiplies when I'm not looking."
Harry laughed. "I feel the same. Still, paperwork's worse on an empty stomach. Come on."
He grabbed her coat off the hook by the door and then held it out for her to slip into.
As they walked to their usual café, Harry wondered whether he should take her hand. Their fingers brushed as they walked, but he wasn't sure if they'd reached that point. Her words from last night looped through his head, but it was one thing for her to say she felt the same in a haze of champagne, and another for them to hold hands in the Ministry.
Best not. He satisfied himself with pulling out her chair at the table after they'd picked up their sandwiches from the counter. That's a bit boyfriend-y, isn't it? She smiled at him as he sat across from her, so he figured he'd done something right.
All through lunch, they avoided the topic of the night before, limiting themselves to discussing work.
"I'm glad I'm resigning," she said as they were finishing up.
Harry tilted his head. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "I feel a lot, well, freer, I suppose. I didn't realize how stressful work had become until it wasn't stretching ahead of me forever anymore."
"Have you thought of what you'd want to do instead?"
She frowned. "Not really. I might take some time off. Not too much, but some time for myself might be nice."
Harry couldn't keep the thought of how, or if, he'd fit into that plan, from flitting through his mind. And what about this thing with Malfoy? "Well it's not like you ever take time off," Harry said instead.
"I –" she paused. "Well, I suppose you're right."
Harry laughed. "That doesn't happen often."
Hermione grinned. "Don't sell yourself short, I'm sure it happens at least once a week."
"I hope so, otherwise Robards is going to fire me any day now."
Back in his office, Harry felt lighter than he had in a while. Even the mountains of paperwork he had to wade through weren't enough to bring down his mood.
When an owl landed on his desk a little after three, he assumed it had to do with the Dunham case, and so he was surprised to realize it had a package in addition to a letter. He untied both and then gave the owl a couple treats from the dish on his desk before it flew away.
He opened the letter first, curious.
Potter,
I quite enjoyed our night last night, despite your insistence on postponing our activities. I'm sure you won't be surprised if I tell you I hope it will happen again soon. You are both surprisingly…enjoyable company.
I realize you probably aren't very aware of Veela courting customs. It consists partly of meetings, which are a bit like muggle dates, or so I've heard, and partly of gifts. You needn't fear – as the courter, I am the one who is responsible for arranging meetings and sending gifts.
I admit that I am not familiar with your preferences, so this first gift may not be to your taste. If it is not, I would ask that you tell me so that I may avoid such a faux pas in the future.
-Malfoy
P.S. I would ask one gift of you – please call me Draco.
Harry read through the letter twice, lingering on the postscript. Somehow, he couldn't imagine calling him Draco, even though it was, actually, his name. And I suppose I ought to be on a first-name basis with someone courting me.
He shook his head and then picked up the gift. He unwrapped it quickly, revealing a small box that fit in the palm of his hand. He opened it to find a small phial nestled in a bed of black velvet. When he picked it up, he could see a thin, silvery, wavering thread inside. He gaped. Malfoy – Draco – had sent him a memory. Of all possible gifts, that hadn't even been on the list.
Harry stared at the phial for a minute before finally going over the wall and tapping the hidden knob with his wand to open the cabinet that contained his personal Pensieve. Tucking his wand back into his sleeve, he opened the phial and then gently tipped the memory into the swirling grey liquid.
Taking a deep breath, he dipped his head into the basin.
Harry was surprised when he found himself in Hogwarts. For some reason, he'd expected a more recent memory. He turned around and finally spotted Malfoy – Draco – standing, peeking around a corner to look into the hallway Harry was standing in. He turned to face the direction Draco was looking in and was only a little surprised to see himself, standing with Hermione, leaning against the bank of windows lining one side of the hallway. It was during eighth year – Harry could see the line on Hermione's neck from Bellatrix's knife. They were talking, although their words were muffled; Draco must not have been quite in hearing distance.
He turned back to face Draco and watched his face. Draco looked…wistful.
The memory dissolved, and then reformed into the Transfiguration classroom, again during eighth year. He was standing in the back of the classroom next to Draco's desk. Draco was scratching something on his parchment while looking forward and across the room to where Harry and Hermione were sitting next to each other. Harry looked down at Draco's parchment and saw a little sketch of the two of them.
The memory dissolved again and this time he was in the Quidditch stands. He remembered this game – the last match of the year against Ravenclaw for the Cup. He was in the Slytherin stands and Draco was next to him, looking up. Harry saw himself, he was just starting the dive that would take him to catch the Snitch. Harry looked at Draco and was shocked to see that pinned to the inside of Malfoy's robes, open over his uniform, was a small red-and-gold lion's head pin. Draco didn't cheer when Harry caught the snitch, but Harry saw the brief smile that flitted over his face before it was replaced by his usual sneer.
The memory dissolved again, and apparently it was the last one, because Harry was returned to his office.
Carefully, he retrieved the memory, returning it to the phial. He put the phial back in its box and then tucked the box inside one of the cubbies within the cabinet before returning the Pensieve to its hiding place.
Harry went back down at his desk and then sat there for a moment before he picked up his quill and dug out a piece of parchment. He had a letter to write.
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