Chapter 4: Don't need a Hero.

Draco observed Potter in History of Magic. A slight frown was placed upon his face as he stared at him. How had he never noticed that this guy was pretty good looking? He had spent over five years looking at the git and suddenly he looked good. He sighed but continued looking anyway. When Potter saw him staring he sneered; the simple motion brought a pang to Draco's chest. He turned to look at Professor Binns but found his head turning involuntarily towards the other.

He started scribbling out words on his parchment without thinking, words that meant nothing; he then realised the mess he was in. It meant something, something big; it just didn't make sense. He looked at Potter and internally, he still hated him, but part of him wanted to be close to him. The fucking part that felt bloody empty without him. Granger leaned over Potter's parchment, accidently touching his arm. Draco could actually feel shivers on his own skin. He gritted his teeth till the end of the lesson.

He caved in. During lunch hour he went to the room of Requirements, which he was very happy to have found the previous year. He went in and completely collapsed. His whole body started shaking and trembling, he felt cold and lonely. He fell to his knees from exhaustion. He was so tired, so fed up with keeping it up, with staying at a safe distance. His entire being screamed to be close to Potter, he needed it.

He banged his head against a cupboard, tears falling from his pale blue eyes. He hit the wood with a frustrated yell of, "Damn it!"

He was tired of this. He wanted to stop, go away, and move as far away from Potter as he could. At the simple thought the mark on his side started burning up. He lifted his shirt and looked at it in the mirror. It had spread; it was lasering a way through his skin, carving delicate shapes and scars deep in curves of his body. It was beginning to look like a maze, or a web. He then paused for a minute and truly looked at the mirror. He knew this mirror. It was the mirror of Erised, and he saw nothing. He was there by himself, only he wore a smile – which in fairness he found odd on his face – and that was all. This mirror is supposed to show what a person wants. Surely, Draco must want something in life?

And he realised that the mirror could only show the deepest desires of his being, something that his subconscious had decided upon. His subconscious was probably as confused as his conscious.

Draco crossed Potter in the hallway between classes. The Slytherin had his glamour firmly in place, his clothes were impeccable and he looked for the entire world, like Draco Malfoy should; but when Potter looked at him, he felt like he could see right through all that.

They stared at each other just for a moment before Potter said, "Hey Malfoy, do you have something to hide behind that make up or are your eyelashes naturally that long?"

Draco realised that between them nothing had changed. They were soul mates, the two halves of a coin, but nothing had changed. Something was only different in Draco's genes, not even in his heart.

He willed his brain to act like a Malfoy and rolled his eyes in superior fashion as he replied, "It's not because you walk around looking like you dresses in the dark that he all have to, Potter, unless of course you plan to defeat the Dark Lord with bad fashion. Perish, the thought," he added as an afterthought.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Scared that your Lord might actually lose to a peasant?" he retorted.

People looked between the pair, remarking that a spark between them was gone. Draco simply couldn't bring himself to truly get angry at him. He was only figuring this out and his mark burned already at the half hearted insults.

Potter rolled his eyes and added, "Yeah whatever," before walking onto class, bumping into Draco on the way.

The latter froze on the spot. A jolt was sent through his veins and he felt weak at the knees. He felt whole. He'd gotten so used to being this half person that being whole took his breath away. His vision blurred an instant and all he could see was Potter; Potter who wouldn't even spare him another glance. He felt faint at the loss, all his thoughts were gone and he felt lost again. I don't want this, his mind screamed, take it away.

Suddenly he turned and his hand grabbed Potter's sleeve against his better judgement. He could breathe again. He stopped falling in this huge pit and there was light again. They looked each other in the eye and Draco's heart skipped a beat. He was at a loss. He felt complete, like he'd been dying and now he lives; he felt right. But it wasn't right.

He straightened up and aggressively said, "Fuck you, Pothead."

The mark started to burn heavily and he doubled over with a sharp outcry. He could feel it tracing his ribs like a needle carving into his skin, digging so deep it pierced through his lungs and stopped his breathing. His knees hit the ground with a thud. He held himself up one hand on the floor and the other tearing at his chest, hoping to let air in through the cracks. He could remember Potter bending over him and holding his shoulders. He looked in his eyes, before his own started to roll in the back of his head.

He woke up in the infirmary, again. Madame Pomfrey was checking him, tutting at the growing scar and telling him to get a move on. Draco was not trying to get a move on; he was trying to move on. He was trying to ignore this entire business, carry on like he had; but he couldn't. He was bound to this new fate and no one had left him the option of refusing. He remembered the touch and frankly he wasn't sure if he should want to refuse. It had been amazing; he could actually feel Potter's power link through their touch, no matter for how brief; and by Merlin he was powerful.

Madame Pomfrey returned with a batch of potions and explained, "These are all Potions to give you back some of your energy. But Mister Malfoy, I do insist that you must find your mate, there is only so much Potions can do."

He didn't know what pushed him to reply, "I already have," but he did.

The nurse went into a tantrum about the next steps to take. She said that time was not on his side and that his mate had to accept him. Draco only half listened; he could feel the implications of her words crawl beneath his skin, he did not need to listen to them. He looked up briefly when she sat down.

"I must also add," she sighed. "That even though I have remained silent at your order, Headmaster Dumbledore is aware of your situation and is offering you different accommodations as well as an improved time table."

Draco looked at her for a moment. He then threw back the covers, kicked his legs out and got up with a huffed, "I don't want any of it."

He took his clothes and started dressing as she protested, "But Draco you can't go on like this!"

He stopped listening and left the Hospital Wing, leaving behind his potions and perhaps part of his sanity.

So, Dumbledore was aware of his condition; this was of no help to Draco. His plan was total discretion, and especially to protect himself against him. He went back to the room of Requirements after dinner, not feeling up to much else. He wished he had taken those potions when he could. He felt tired. But even through his aching fatigue, he felt like someone was touching him. Alas, there was no one there. He sat on the floor in front of the mirror. Nothing showed. He still didn't want this.

He got up and removed his shirt. The mark had spread and was now practically covering his entire side. It was blue at the moment, except for the corners which were still tainted red. A sting reached his body and he inhaled quickly. He shivered quietly and put his shirt back on. He still felt cold. He grabbed the book on magical creatures that he kept in his bag and flicked the pages.

Chapter 3

[...] At some point the Veela will come to realise what it needs, and the simple knowledge will drive it made. It will do its best to approach and court the mate, in a hopeful attempt to bond. The Veela will never feel complete or even remotely good without the mate, but it will actively seek happiness, for itself and for the mate. The Veela mark will eventually take over the entire body if the bonding is never completed. It's the sign of madness settling in.

Draco sighed and closed the book. He was scared of becoming mad, of growing into someone he was not. He left the room. As he walked through the hallway, just behind the Room of Requirements, he felt energy seeping into him; he felt a pull towards it.

He followed the invisible beam with his eyes and said, "Come on out already Potter, I can smell you from a mile away."

A cloak was removed and there he stood. Potter leaned against the wall and looked at him with crossed arms. Draco observed him for a while; his genes were doing summersaults, rearranging probably, Draco scoffed internally.

Potter frowned. "You forgot to put your glamour back on," he remarked.

Draco inwardly cursed the living day lights out of himself, all the while retaining an air of pride beneath his hollow cheeks and saggy eyes. He simply shrugged. Some unspoken web was pulling him closer to the boy and he had to actively fight it to stay in his proper place.

"What are you up to Malfoy? The Room doesn't work anymore, it's just storage" Potter added.

Draco tried to walk away but he couldn't. The pull was making him get closer and he was no longer strong enough to stay away, his feet shuffled and dragged underneath him as he slowly inched forward and he muttered, "It's none of your business Potter."

"It is if you're planning to pull the school down."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that. He didn't answer; he simply dropped his gaze to the Golden boy's feet. The latter observed him and took two steps closer.

"What the hell is wrong with you Malfoy?" He asked.

Draco looked up at him and Merlin he was so close. He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. Potter was just there! And Draco was being pulled closer still. He could hardly breathe because of the pressure building in his chest. His skin was titillating, shivers running along his spine, curling his toes and his fingers. He could feel the warmth of the other man's body radiating and bouncing off his own. He could see the specks of colour in his eyes, could feel them swirl within his mind.

"What is it?!" Potter frowned. "You look as if you're two steps from fainting."

Draco shook his head, moved back a pace and replied with more force than was needed, "I don't need a hero Potter, go and save someone else."

Potter rolled his eyes, "As if I'd save you, Malfoy," and he walked away.

Draco looked at him leave, feeling one pressure going while the unease set back onto his shoulders. His mark started burning again and all he could think was: Don't save someone else.

I'm sorry this chapter is less good. As I said, it is funny how inspiration goes? I need your opinion for something. I still don't know how to continue this, well I do but I'm wavering between two ideas. Do you think I should let Draco die, or let them have a 'happily ever after' ? Thank you and review xxx

*Edited