See chapter one for disclaimers/summaries/warnings. Others will be added as I see fit.

This is a STORY, it is FICTION. Don't like it, stop reading it. I am not twisting your arm nor your eyes. For me, this is a stress reliever in the midst of my hectic life.

PREVIOUSLY: Harry's professors advised him to visit Madam Pomfrey, but to continue hiding his creature nature, Harry avoided it for three days. When Severus Snape orders him to visit the Headmaster, Harry decides to ignore that and runs, only to find himself trekking along with Professor Terius and Snape with an injured Draco and Calida to see Madam Pomfrey at the Headmaster's request.

Harry woke in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in unfamiliar arms, surrounded by a somewhat familiar scent.

He stiffened as he realized he was shirtless, though thankfully his lower half seemed to have retained a pair of pyjama bottoms. The hands splayed over his chest and torso were warm and soft to the touch. A tiny thought nagged him in the back of his head, taunting that he should know where he was and who was holding him.

Harry didn't dare move yet, trying to remember what had happened before he'd blacked out. He couldn't recall anything specific, just walking through the dungeons and feeling extremely tired. He thought maybe it was after he'd left Potions Class, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't remember. What he did remember was the lovely scent wafting over him, its source being the one holding him from behind.

Megan.

He twitched faintly, in shock. This was one of those odd fantasies that had played out in his dreams. He'd never thought of something like it could ever occur in real life. This had to be a dream. It would explain why he couldn't remember anything and maybe, just maybe, he could have a few moments of sanity—enjoyable sanity—where he could be himself without anyone trying to kill or maim him.

As if sensing his morbid train of thought, the arms holding him close, tightened.

Harry swallowed hard. He squinted up in the darkened surroundings and puzzled it out. From what he could make out, he was comfortably tucked into a bed in the Hufflepuff dorms. The abundance of black and gold made it impossible for it to be anything else but Hufflepuff. Thankfully, the curtains were drawn shut around the bed and only a sliver at one corner near the head, allowed a trickle of light to show in.

Huh. He'd never had a dream that led him to the Hufflepuff dorms before. Most of his sleepwalking had confined him to the Gryffindor common room, once Percy had discovered that and the eldest Weasley, though a prat, had managed to speak to McGonagall about setting up a ward to keep him from wandering too far. Harry never let on that it didn't work after the first few weeks.

He shifted enough for a bit of cold air to slip down the blanket and it brought a shiver. Harry wrinkled his nose. Cold was bad. He much more preferred it be warm and soft.

Hm.

Warm and soft.

There was currently a very warm, comfortable thing snuggled up to him—a thing that didn't make sense, until said thing moved and a confused Harry equated it to a person.

Megan.

It was really her, it had to be!

This could turn out to be the best dream ever!

There was a chuckle from somewhere behind him and Harry twisted in the arms holding him close. His first reaction was to run and the second was to stay. The reactions battled it out between themselves as Harry tensed for the outcome.

"You're thinking too hard." Megan's soft, lilting voice whispered in his ear. "And you are most certainly not dreaming. I can see it on your face. I am no dream, surely this feels real enough?" She wriggled faintly, against him.

All thoughts of running promptly extinguished themselves.

If he dared to think this wasn't a dream, then he'd hold onto this for as long as he could.

Megan shifted and somehow Harry found himself half-sitting up and held comfortably to a soft silken bosom. He had no complaints as the older girl shifted to cuddle him properly. Regardless of her statement, it did seem too nice to be real. But it was comfortable and comforting and he needed it. His sleep-fogged mind suggested that if it wasn't a dream, he ought to go back to sleep.

Harry nearly rolled his eyes, but that seemed to take too much energy. He was tired. Again. It felt as if he'd slept and the sleep had helped, but he was tired, as if the rest hadn't helped at all. Everything was so mixed up!

Megan? He tried to say. But instead of actual words, a faint whine of distress came out.

A soothing rumble sounded nearby. The chocolate-haired beauty leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Harry's forehead, just beside that troublesome scar. Her long fingers curled and stroked as they carded through the messy mop of black hair.

Harry felt his eyelids slide halfway closed. Dream or not, he didn't care. This was nice. So very nice. A soft, purring sound bubbled out as he yawned and buried his face back in the softness of that silk-covered chest. He was still tired, but now it didn't feel quite as bad, more like just a happy tired. He winced as a spike of pain shot through his right shoulder.

"Harry?" Megan pressed her lips to his head, breathing soft, warm breaths though the tufts of hair as her hands shifted to rub in soothing strokes over the tired body draped over her. "You've been out for a while. We need to talk. How are you feeling?"

Harry began to move in answer and stopped almost at once when putting any pressure on his shoulder made the pain intensify. He didn't remember that and it hurt! It really hurt! His mouth opened and again, instead of words, a panicked trill turned into a pained whimper.

"Ah, I almost forgot." Megan murmured. "I am sorry about that. I couldn't help myself. Not when you called like that. I don't think anyone could've resisted." Her warm hands stroked up and down, inching upward to the aching shoulder before it skittered lightly over the sensitive soreness.

To Harry's surprise, it took the edge off of the sharp darts of pain. He made another muffled sound, a mixture of confusion and surprise.

Megan smiled. "You were irresistible, like a precious treasure."

Harry blinked up at him. Me? A Treasure? No. Megan certainly spoke of someone or something else. Harry stifled a shudder. He didn't like that thought. He didn't want her thinking of anyone else. Not when she held him close and spoke so kindly. He shivered.

"Still cold?" Her soft voice held a hint of amusement and she drew the blankets up around them, careful to leave it off of Harry's aching shoulder. "Better?"

Harry couldn't stop the purr that came forth once more, especially now that he was warm and mostly comfortable again. Everything was delightfully mixed up and confusing, but he didn't care. If this was a dream, then he'd enjoy every last second of it to his heart's content. He sighed and snuggled closer, the tension slowly leaving his body. His shoulder twinged faintly and suddenly, the warm stroking hands, began to move and shift him.

A distressed whine was his only protest, until Harry realized that Megan had shed her dressing robe and now wore a simple, shift. Her skin was creamy paleness and free of freckles or marks.

Huh.

He liked that new adjustment.

Willingly sinking back into the welcoming arms, Harry nestled himself in the new warmth and breathed deeply. The scent was more discernible in this state. It was something faintly of vanilla and lavender and perhaps a hint of steel. His mind argued that someone couldn't really smell like steel, but Harry didn't care. If that's what Megan smelled like up close, then that was exactly what Megan smelled like. His nicely ordered thoughts could go take a hike if they intended to mess up his dream! He took another good whiff, breathing deep. The lavender scent was perfect.

Probably some girl thing, Harry thought, tiredly. He yawned against the smooth skin and without thinking, licked it.

At once, he was awake.

The taste was exotic and sweet, nearly exploding on his tongue as his sleep-fogged mind bustled into activity. He liked that taste. He liked it very much. Harry tilted his head and took a bigger, more experimental swipe of his tongue, to feel the arms cradling him, tighten quite nicely and a soft hitch of breath from somewhere above his head.

Ooh, that reaction was nice.

Harry did it again.

Megan shifted.

Harry almost laughed.

"Har-ry." The name was breathed as a groan. "Don't…tease, I haven't the patience for-"

Harry blinked innocently up at her, even though he knew that the older girl couldn't quite see him. Megan shifted and Harry was suddenly presented with a perfect bicep just in reach. His eyes twitched and flickered and he knew they were shifting to their natural, Dragel state. He couldn't be bothered to worry about it, because—just as suddenly—his fangs were morphing out of his gums and the only thing he really wanted to do was to take a good bite out of that arm…

Megan flinched when the fangs sunk into her flesh. The bite was awkward and inexperienced, but she really wouldn't have it any other way. The moment Harry was completely engaged, she shifted her attention back to the bite she'd inflicted the day before. To seal the claiming mark, she needed to tend to it after Harry had reciprocated in kind. She licked, sucked and kissed the abused, inflamed patch of skin, noting that there was a perfect, round circle instead of two crescent shapes. That was nice. She thought, absently. She'd taken a long time to decide on a specific formation for her own marks. She'd never dreamed the day would come so quickly that she'd be able to find a Dragel Submissive.

The redness on Harry's shoulder faded, the pain disappearing with it as the mark remained, though paler than it had been before. It would be sensitive to her touch, always—and would provide her with the opportunity to provide greater pleasure or comfort to her new bonded mate.

"That's enough, Harry." Megan tapped gently on the head, trying to ignore the feelings stirred up by the faint sucking motions and Harry's equally soft lips. It wouldn't do for her body to respond to the tender ministrations just yet.

To Harry, blood wouldn't taste like blood to a creature that was literally half the essence of blood magic. It would be more like Ambrosia. Megan flexed her hand, waiting. She wanted to have some time with Harry before their instincts took over, at least. She wanted him to have time to prepare before their circle expanded and her body changed to take on all the dominant alpha traits, once Harry selected a suitable beta.

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, happily drawing on the wound.

Megan sighed. She caught one pale ear between two expert fingers and gave a light twist, just enough to catch the boy's attention.

At once, Harry's fangs slid free and he leaned away from the touch, eyeing her suspiciously. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he?

Megan chuckled at the adorable expression. "That was fine. You didn't do anything, I just needed to do this." She traced one finger in the bloodied bite and drew a circle, adding a few dots and then crisscrossing it with three lines. She muttered softly beneath her breath and Harry twitched, faintly. The bleeding circle turned instead, to a complicated tattoo done in a deep, red ink. The wound melted away to clear, unblemished skin and only the tattoo remained.

Harry's eyes grew wide and then he hissed, as a burning sensation rippled on his formerly aching shoulder.

"Harry, Harry, shhh!" Megan soothed, drawing herself up and catching the flailing arms and legs, effectively trapping the smaller body beneath her, the strength surprising. "It's fine. It's fine. Harry, love, please! Everything is fine." She soothed, layering, gentle kisses along Harry's face and neck, before finally nuzzling the new tattoo in experimentation. Harry went boneless beneath her, with an audible chir of pleasure. Megan chuckled, a knowing look settling over her angular features. "Oh, you like that, do you?" She repeated the caress. A flurry of happy noises came from Harry, punctuated by a little wiggle and followed by a sudden, perplexed frown. He really wanted to talk and yet, his voice simply wouldn't cooperate. Another laugh came from the grey-eyed girl. "You cannot do that, until I do this…" Her elegant hands found their way a little lower than before and Harry's eyes grew wide.

For a moment, he turned his head away, pressed into the sheets, turning red with embarrassment and shame as the long-fingered hand slipped into his pyjama bottoms and straight into his pants where they fondled and stroked, taking interest with a rather sensitive portion of his anatomy. The long fingers handled him with expert care, pulling, teasing and fisting with just the right amount of pressure. His body burned pleasurably as Megan's head bent to his neck and bit down, lightly, on the tattooed mark.

That was all Harry needed.

He keened in pleasure as he came to completion and his body arched upwards off the bed as his mind happily blanked out for several blissful moments. When he returned to himself, a fierce, mortified blush danced over his face and he couldn't quite look the other girl in the eye. But even as he looked away, he was willingly soothed and adored by Megan's magic hands. The embarrassed red faded to a manageable pink flush all over his pleasured body.

"Say something now." Megan suggested. "I believe that should've done it."

"Done what?" Harry said, hoarsely. His green eyes grew wide as he heard his own, rich voice and then realized that he really was speaking and not in the jumble of sounds he'd been making since he woke. He sounded quite different now.

"That." Megan's laugh sounded again and she shifted to settle them comfortably together. "Until I show I care for you in an intimate way, your Dragel side would have you resort to more drastic measure to grab my attention, seeing as I am your first dominant." Her grey eyes were sharp and intense. "Your Alpha. When you are marked for claim as you were, it temporarily pushes your Dragel instincts to the front and forces you to communicate in your natural way. It means I cannot ignore you." She smiled at the look on Harry's face. "Not that I'd want to, really. But it does ensure that no unclaimed Dragel of dominant nature would be able to refuse you like that. You are quite lucky it is a weekend, you know." She said, conversationally. "If it were any other day of the week, this might not have been so easy—and thankfully, I am good friends with our resident prefect."

Harry wriggled faintly in response. He had to ask, even if it came back to bite him later. "So I'm really not dreaming am I—ah."

The expert fingers dug gently into the sensitive skin and wrung a pleasured moan from the smaller body. "Definitely not dreaming, love." Megan whispered. "Go to sleep, Harry. I'm sure you have many questions and I will be happy to answer what I can. But that did take quite a bit." She yawned.

Sleep? Harry wanted to protest. His head was brimming with questions. His mind was a lovely, jumbled mess. His body was all but screaming for something that literally made him feel as if his face was on fire and Megan wanted him to sleep? He could have cried and laughed at the same time.

But the same expert fingers gently stroked that sensitive mark and Harry yawned. A wave of tiredness washed over him and his eyelids began to droop.

"Sleep." Megan hummed.

Harry was out like a light.

A/N: Hello dear readers! As some of you may have heard, some very personal and upsetting things in RL life recently that had me place all fic-writing on hold for a bit. Thankfully, they are smoothing out enough so I can breathe again and also write just a little bit. My sincere thanks and appreciation to those of you who PM'd to make sure I was alright. Thank you very, very much, your kindness is appreciated!

~Scion