A big thumbs up for siriusbarks this time! Thank you so much for your review and for your support! Yes Draco is that kind of person that hides his emotions (at least here he is). haha thank you, yeah I thought "your biological code is being rewritten" just sounded cool really^^ I will answer your questions for everyone else too!

So Draco is a half/Quarter Veela. The Veela gene has been carried down through the Black line for generations. I am not sure if you know how genes works but anyway, you can have a certain gene that is then called "dormant", you have it and it can be a "dominant" gene as we say but it just isn't expressed in your genome. So the Veela gene has been carried down and Draco is basically missing that particularity that makes the gene dormant, and as it is a dominant gene it expressed itself strongly. Which is why I say half Veela, not that one of his parents is a pureblood Veela, but just because half of his genome, on his mum's side is seen as "pure blood Veela". Basically. Which also means that Bellatrix and Tonks carry the gene (Not that I will use that in the story).

As for Harry noticing Draco's Veela-ness; well I don't want to say too much on the subject because I am working up to it very soon haha I don't really know how many chapters I'll have. It would have been 14 before, but I do think it will be more in the end. Anyway, the explanation is on its way, just stay tuned ;)

Any questions, don't hesitate to ask or to send me a PM!

Chapter Eleven: Merry Christmas.

Draco grabbed a cloth from the bathroom and soaked it a little with water. He turned round so that his back faced the mirror, he then pressed the fabric gently to his shoulder blade, where the mark had sunk so deep into his skin that blood trickled down his spine. He winced as the cold made the wounds sting. He rinsed the red of his fair skin and reached for a bandage. He tied it over his shoulder and around his chest to stop the bleeding from carrying on.

He could have used his wand, and he did try but it sent a surge of fire rushing through the cracks in his body. He collapsed on the floor in agony before deciding to do it manually. Ants were coursing in his veins, crawling under his skin. He could feel it itching at all times, he wanted to scratch but it just didn't go away. His hands twitched to touch Harry but he kept them in his pocket. It was getting worse.

He spent a lot of his time with Harry to be fair; he actually quite liked the company. It just wasn't enough anymore. He needed to touch him. His heart raced every time he heard his laugh, every time he came closer; but they never touched. They didn't even shake each other's hand to say hello; Draco tried once but he got ignored for his trouble. Christmas was coming, and it marked the sixth month of his predilection. He was going mad; so were the marks on his body.

He wondered what he would do for Christmas. When he stayed during his fourth year, he had Blaise with him. He had never been alone. So he sat with Harry in the library, snow falling heavily outside.

"Oi, Hair-head," he called.

Harry looked up and sent him a funny look. "Hair-head? That's new," he asked.

Draco simply shrugged. "I used to call you Pot-head from Potter. Now that it's Harry it's become Hair-head."

Harry pouffed at that and replied, "It's almost ridiculous how logical you make it sound."

He sent him a smile. Draco noticed that he did that a lot lately. He was used to smirking; he had mastered that art quite expediently. He had always known that a smile looked weird on him anyway; it didn't suit his features or his background.

Harry looked at him. "So, yeah? You wanted to ask something?" he wondered.

Draco pretended to look at his book and replied calmly, "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Harry put his own book down and sunk into his chair. He knotted his fingers behind his head and looked up to ceiling. "I'm leaving," he replied. "I've been invited to spend it with the Weasley's and Hermione up at the Burrow. Talked to Dumbledore and I can use the floo network just that once, take the train back before New Year's."

Draco nodded soberly but inside he was falling. He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep the outcry from leaving his lips. He could feel the mark spreading beneath the bandage, ripping apart; he could feel the blood starting to fall down his skin.

"How 'bout you?" Harry added, turning his head to face Draco.

The latter shrugged as if it was all fine, as if answering or even breathing didn't hurt. "Probably get Mum to come over here or something. Maybe find dear Daddy, Christmas was always fun with him. That was sarcasm, in case it didn't get into your thick head," he added thoughtfully.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Was that sarcasm?" he asked "I'd have thought that Lucius was great! I bet he wakes you up with breakfast, gives you a hug and hands over your endless list of presents."

Draco rolled his eyes and closed his book, laying it down on the bench next to him. "He was more the type to wake me up with a whack, give me shove up my arse and hand me my endless list of failures of the year." He looked over at Harry and saw that weird look in his eyes, so he quickly added, "It's just a joke, dumb-arse."

"Didn't sound like one," Harry replied.

Draco decided to ignore him, preferring to let the silence hang between them. His genes did not seem to appreciate that he was lying to his mate. In fact, his heart was starting to disagree with it too. More often than not, he'd find himself desperately wanting to tell the Golden Boy the truth, but social standards kept him out of harm's way. They didn't mention Christmas again.

Until the 23rd arrived that is. Harry knocked on Draco's door, inviting himself in and perching quite comfortably on Draco's bed. He remained quite sober, just waiting for Draco to come and claim his royal seat. Draco handed him a mug of tea as he sat down next to him.

"I'm leaving," he announced seriously.

Draco sipped his tea. "On an adventure?" he replied on the same tone.

Harry relaxed his shoulders and smiled. "Yeah, sort of. I've got everything packed and I'm off in about half an hour or so."

Draco nodded and closed his eyes as he let out a gentle blow on his tea. Behind his eye lids he could feel small droplets take shape, gliding gently behind his lashes, tangling together. He opened them once he was sure that he had eliminated the traces of sadness, and that he himself was safely tucked away behind his poker-face.

"It is considerate of you to drop by before leaving," Draco said politely.

Harry nodded and fidgeted for a moment, twiddling his thumbs. He took an object wrapped in parchment paper from his robe pocket and handed it over quickly without looking at Draco. "That's for you," he said quickly.

Draco felt his cheeks warming up, those stupid butterflies were doing summersaults in his abdomen again. "Am I to open this now?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "It's for Christmas."

Draco looked around his room for a moment, looking for something he could give. He felt in his veins that his body desperately wanted to give the double of what he had just received; but he had nothing. So he simply raised his head high up and replied, "Why thank you very much. I have no present for you; because you were quite right. I am the woman and you are the boy, and that it just the way etiquette works."

Harry laughed at that and got up. "If someone had told me years ago that Draco Malfoy would call himself a woman..." he chuckled. He stretched his back and held out a hand "Well," he started. "I best be off now."

Draco looked at the hand for a split second before reaching for it. The moment their hands touched, they connected. Their powers linked, and for an instant Draco could feel what Harry felt, the uncertainty, his rapid heartbeat and even his anxiety. He looked up towards him, his breathing ragged, and he could see it. He could see it in Harry's eyes, that he felt it too. They stared into each other's being, recognized in it a part of their own that was missing. Draco hoped so badly, that the way he saw Harry, was the way Harry saw him.

The contact was broken and Draco almost fell over from the weakness that took control of his body.

Harry portrayed an uneasy smile and added, "Well, Merry Christmas, Draco." He then fled from the room, faster than Draco could reply.

Were it even just to the wind, he did answer, "Merry Christmas, Harry."

The moment the door closed between them Draco fell back onto his chair. The more steps Harry took further from him, the more pressure welled up inside him. He sighed and got up. As he did, a wave of nausea hit him and he keeled over, falling onto his hands and knees. The room swirled around him and he fell on his back, shutting his eyes firmly. He stayed in that position for a while, his gaze directed to a crack in the ceiling but he didn't truly see it. He hardly even thought of anything, he just felt. He felt his breathing burning his throat; he felt his back weighing his body down. He felt his eyes close and struggled to keep them open, even just a crack. His head started throbbing and with each bang, a thought appeared in his head. Soon he felt overwhelmed; thoughts were jumping over the walls of his brains, they were breaking the shells he had created for himself. His own voice was resonating in different phrases throughout his head, but it felt like they were haunting him. They were turning over in his head, making him dizzy with the twirling images. He put a hand over his mouth hoping to stop the uproar of nausea hitting him.

He managed to get up and stand on wobbly knees. He walked slowly to the bathroom to examine the damage. He didn't even need to take the bandage off to realise that he had been bleeding. As he suspected, the blood had trickled down his back, seeping through the fabric. He took the bandage away, threw it in the trashcan with a whispered incendio. As the magic drained out of him, it burned his muscles on its way out, pushing the mark to spread along his back. A new wave of nausea hit him and he sunk to his knees by the toilet, puking out the contents of his stomach. He breathed and got up, seeing his mark in the mirror. He didn't know what it was doing, why it was so much deeper on his shoulder blades, what it was becoming. He grabbed a cloth and rubbed it over the wounds.

As he cleaned the edge of a wound, a sting reached his lower body and he groaned. It got stronger and stronger, spreading over other parts of his body. With a pang it doubled in strength and he crashed against the wall with a scream. His back arched towards the ceiling as his hands dug into his thighs. He bit his lip as tears fell onto his cheeks.

'Make it go, make it go,' he whispered to himself. He stopped for a moment, catching his breath as his body continued twitching in pain. He could feel them now, the hands that were touching him. Invisible fingers were caressing him and he pushed to the side to make them go away. He hit the bath tub with the back of his hand as he fell. They were not touching him, they were touching Harry. He muffled a scream into a nearby towel, biting down his lip so hard to it started bleeding heavily.

""""""""""""

Draco never left his room the next day. He stayed on his sofa, just in case he would have another fit. He kept scratching the back of his hand to keep from touching his shoulders where the mark had spread onto his other side. It had also gone further down upon his arm, reaching the centre of his biceps. He just sat there, writing letter after letter, Christmas letters mostly. He might be disowned, at least he supposed he was, he was still Draco Abraxas something; and Draco Abraxas something sends Christmas cards. It was a matter of pride and a matter of habit. He wanted people to continue considering him the same way they always had. He threw another card on his 'done' pile and scrapped another name from his 'to do' list. At the bottom of the list was written: Harry Potter. He remembered the gift and quickly accio-ed it. He should keep it till the morning, but he decided to open it anyway. He had to know what it was to be able to prepare a return gift of the same value. His father had always taught him that. So he opened it.

It was a rather small package, badly wrapped, and to it a card was attached. Draco read that first.

Merry Christmas Draco!

If you've opened the gift first, then I'll already apologize. I'm shit at finding gifts okay? And we haven't been hanging round each other long enough for me to really know you that well.

So I know you have my scarf, you stupid sod, you thought I wouldn't know? Okay, fair enough, I didn't till I saw it lying about your room last week. I'm guessing here that you're cold, or lacking a decent scarf, so I bought you one. Now before you complain, it is real cashmere. I didn't really get the thing round it but I've worn it a couple times (just a test round) and it is quite cool; I think you'll find it acceptable.

Merry Christmas again,

Hope you're not all alone.

Harry.

Ps: The colour suits your eyes.

Draco smiled, and felt a little embarrassed at having been caught with the scarf. He was quite pleased however. He opened the wrapping and the light blue fabric felt soft between his fingers. He took it in his hands and breathed in the air surrounding it. It smelt like Harry and a flutter invaded his stomach before he let out a smile. He stayed in that position for a little while, feeling just that much closer to his mate. He put it round his neck and got up, rummaging through his stuff to find something acceptable. He opened his 'box of wonders' as he called it when he was a kid. He found a small necklace representing the crest of the Wizarding World. It belonged to his great grand-father, but if he was honest, he had always found it ugly. He shrugged, supposing Harry would like it. He would find something better at a later date. He sat back down and unrolled a new parchment, replying.

Merry Christmas Hair-head,

Let's get one thing straight, I only got you a gift because you got me one; never let it be said that I am anything less than polite.

I found this in an old storage box and deemed it good enough; at least it would add a piece of glamour to your usual style. If one could call it style. I take it you do not know what your present actually is, so I will explain.

It is the crest of the Wizarding World, designed by Phidelius Porter in the late 1500s. The Wizarding World already existed of course, but it was just before Porter's time that they started to be "removed" from Muggle surroundings and go into secrecy. They became a separate community, spread out over different groups in the world. There are other Crests, from different point of views. The French group has a different one, the American one too, and all the others; but this one is ours.

I thought you might appreciate it,

Have a nice time with the Weasley sprogs.

Draco A. L. Malfoy

He nodded to himself and sealed it off. It would do. He looked at the necklace a moment longer and he didn't know what possessed him, but he moved closer to it and pressed his lips gently to the metal. For a moment he felt a connection, small as it was, almost as if Harry was back again.

"""""""""

He didn't celebrate Christmas; didn't even go down to eat with the rest. He had no presents this year; his mother was probably still in hiding. He simply kept the scarf by his side and had a light breakfast. He felt too weak for it all, he was quite simply down. Somewhere in rural England was his mate being hugged by red heads, he could feel them touching him, and he was here alone. He pressed so hard onto his tea cup that it broke between his fingers. He cursed and picked at the glass in his skin, he was hardly bleeding.

He received a note that morning from Professor Dumbledore asking him to, please join me for tea? I have something to give you. He wasn't sure if he should but he supposed it would be alright.

He practically crawled to the courtyard, where they had their meeting. He couldn't put magic on himself, so he had dressed warmly, finding clothes to match his new blue scarf, tucked firmly around his neck. He kept his face down, his gaze directed to his feet, trying to preserve his eyes from falling snow flakes. As he arrived at the monument in the courtyard he finally looked up. He froze.

Right there, on the other side of the monument was Lucius Malfoy, who had apparently not been banned from the school. Draco's heart stopped, constricting his throat. He kept a calm air around him, crossing his arms trying to hide the shaking of his hands. He waited and said, "Father."

Lucius took a step forward. "Draco," he replied. "How nice of you to join me."

Draco stayed where he was. "What do you want?" he asked.

Faster than a speeding bullet Lucius turned round the monument, his wand out of his cane in a swift motion and pressed it against Draco's neck. The latter groaned at the contact.

"You disgrace me," Lucius started furiously. "All these years I brought you up as my own and all this time you were just an animal; a failure. You disgust me. And Potter's soul-mate no less! How low could you sink?! The Dark Lord may find some use of you, but I do not. You are disowned; you are no longer my son or heir to the Malfoy realm." He pressed harder, almost knocking Draco out. "You will, however, complete the Dark Lord's task: repair the Vanishing cabinet before term is over. Fail, and he will come for you." He let him go and Draco fell to his knees; the wand still directed to him. Lucius looked down at him."So shall I," he added and yelled, "Crucio!"

Draco doubled over with a scream. Veins shot out over his neck and arms, blood rushing through him. The mark burned up and his vision went blank. In his eyes the veins popped red, blood spatters covering the white in patches. The knives were cutting at his skin, opening him up, bit by bit. He screamed so loudly that his jaw almost snapped. The windows of the castle around them trembled more and more, until they shattered to pieces. Glass fell around them and they both screamed. Draco saw nothing anymore. His head hit the floor.

And he didn't get up.

Stay tuned!

*Edited