I

BELTANE – MAY 1st

His mother and father were, and had always been, devoted worshippers of the wheel. It was part of wizarding society, part of their history and their heritage. The muggles had turned it into some religious symbol before they turned to Christianity, to Islam, to Judaism. The list went on. But the wheel had always endured for wizardkind. It wasn't religious, it was a celebration of their magic, of the nature that guided and fed their magic, and it was an appreciation of their ancestors enduring magic.

Draco knew this, had grown up with it, even in the Dark Lord's shadow. And it endured still long after his shadow had left. But he had never quite believed in it, never really believed the association's of each special day. Until he met her gaze at Beltane.

Draco had arrived early with his parents, at their insistence. He had been ready to tell them he wasn't going, to tell them he didn't believe in the wheel, but they had been broken by the war even years later. He hadn't the inclination to let them down where they had let him down. But he begrudged going, especially as he knew what his parents would do once the magic took hold of them. He shuddered to think of it, even now as a grown man himself.

The magic had never taken hold of him like it had for others. Not once had he felt the flames of the fire and yearned to grasp the flesh of a passing girl. That is what happened, what he had been told would happen, and yet it hadn't happened. Not for him, at least. Not that he wanted to expose himself in a forest surrounded by other people. But, still he went. His mother and father had separated from him, as they always did nowadays, it wasn't for them to hinder his chances despite his many protests that he had never had a chance before. Draco suspected they didn't want him hindering their chances.

To top it all off, they had pressured him into wearing the traditional clothing expected at Beltane for a single man. The mask of a stag, dark linen trousers and painted chest. Not that it mattered, many of the men around him were topless and the air was balmy enough as he made his way through the forest.

He followed the other revellers into a large clearing, deep within the forest itself, where small fires were lit to light the way. In the centre stood a huge unlit bonfire, awaiting the flame to start the evening. The din of chatter and laughter dulled around him as the swell of witches and wizards circled around the bonfire, all waiting for it to be set alight, their breaths fast and their faces bright with excitement as they stared.

Draco heard the cry of "Incendio!" and watched as the flames enveloped the kindling and burst forth higher and higher to rapturous applause and cheers. The heat from the flames warmed his face, and set the whole forest aglow.

A great drumming echoed through him as soon as the cheers broke the silence, through the trees and through the fire itself. Draco backed away from the bonfire and watched the masses dance and dance in time with the drums and flickering of the flames, linking with each other, swaying with each other, and attempting to jump the fire.

"Luna!" A voice cried out near to him, and that was when he saw her.

Fire filled him as he stared at her standing there, reaching out to a figure running toward the bonfire. Magic flooded into him, like the feeling he would get just before casting a powerful spell; anticipation, exhilaration. It crackled at his fingertips and he wanted to pour it into her, to touch her, until her head turned and her eyes met his.

Draco swallowed hard. It was Ginny bloody Weasley. He sneered and turned his disappointed gaze back onto the fire. What was she doing at Beltane? Her family weren't the type to celebrate anything remotely celebratory of wizardkind, they were probably the type to see it as offensive. But, here she was, making every sense available to him aware of her and they all wanted something from her. He wanted to capture her scent, wanted to trace the pale skin, wanted to taste her mouth... Draco shook himself, but couldn't stop glancing over to where she had stood.

She was gone.

He realised his feet were propelling him forward, towards the bonfire, and he pushed people out of his way to reach the very edge of it. The flames danced and flickered high, heating his skin, and the drumming pulsed around him, dancers moved all about him. Then he saw her through the flickering of the flames. Her hair burned bright like the first rays of sunrise at dawn, and her pale skin warmed with the glow of the fire, but someone had taken her by the wrist and she was gone again.

Anger flared inside him, jealous anger. A foreign feeling, and it surprised him. She is yours, claim her! Draco growled and shoved through the crowd again. Find her, she is yours! The words spurred him on, flung him head on until he caught sight of her distinctive hair and he wondered at how he hadn't thought it beautiful until now. How could he have been so blind?

"Come, young man!" A jolly voice called beside him and Draco felt his wrist being taken as hers had been. "Join in the Maypole, it is lucky for the single man!"

"No," Draco said curtly, "I need to find -." He stopped. She was holding a ribbon, he could see as he was pulled closer by the man, who hadn't bothered to listen to his protests. His pulse quickened and the tingling in his fingertips returned as he drew closer and closer to her, and he could see just how blind he had been for all these years.

She wore a dark green layered tulle dress, with a crown of white roses atop her red hair. The creamy skin of her shoulders and legs were stunning against the dark colour of her clothing, and she reminded him of a fae he had seen in a picture book once as a child. Her eyes were on the ground as he took the ribbon directly across from hers, and he noted how much taller he was than her, how slender and slight she was compared to him. For some reason, this pleased him.

Then her eyes met his again, and warmth flooded his body. The glow from the fires reflected there, and this time he couldn't turn away. Her mouth opened a little and he knew in an instant that she felt it too as she swallowed visibly. Before anything else could be done, the dance began and as they weaved between the surplus of witches and wizards, his pulse quickened and his anticipation climbed as they drew closer.

And they passed all too quickly, their eyes never leaving the other and he wondered if she recognised him beneath the mask. Touch her, dance with her. These urges were new, unlike anything he had experienced before with a witch. So strong were they, that it was difficult to fight them and so he allowed his fingertips to brush against the skin of her arm as they passed again. And it was like a bolt of lightning, sharp and quick, the feel of their magic connecting.

Draco shook his head. What are you doing? That's Ginny Weasley! He scolded himself, and still he couldn't look at anything else but her. She's a Weasley, and she's utterly gorgeous... Touch her again. She is yours now.

Draco did the only logical thing and touched her again. The feel of their magic connecting again made him groan with pleasure. It was powerful yet feminine, and this time he caught the sweet scent of her and his heart was pounding faster and faster as he drank it in.

Claim her, she is ready.

But she was gone again, the ribbons were tied and the wreath of spring flowers was drawn down from the pole.

Draco growled in frustration as he searched for her again. Why did she hide from him? He knew she felt it, could tell by the shocked way she had looked at him, the gasp he had heard from her plump lips. She's scared. You must step wisely.

"Who are you?"

Draco spun on his heel and found her standing behind him. He smirked down at her. "This is your first Beltane, isn't it?"

She considered him, but nodded slowly. "How did you know?"

"It is bad manners to ask the identity of those you meet in the forest," he replied.

A pause fell between them, but it was far from awkward as they stared back at each other, taking in the sight of each other's bodies. Her eyes lifted to his again and her cheeks coloured. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I can't help but..." She trailed off and he noticed her hand twitch by her side.

He smirked again and he saw her gaze become appreciative. Evidently, she liked what she saw so far. "It's the magic," he found himself explaining. "It's nothing to fear."

She swallowed again. "But... I don't know you."

Draco found himself chuckling. "Don't fear it, it's only the magic of our ancestors, of the forest," he said, despite never having believed it before. But there was something primitive coursing through his veins, infecting his mind. The heady scent of her loosened his logic, loosened any qualms he may have had about her before. "Let me show you."

She looked down at his outstretched palm, then back up at him, uncertainty in her eyes and, up close, Draco could see the brightness of them, the fire behind them despite the uncertainty. Then she nodded and ever so tentatively, she took his hand and gasped again at the meeting of their magic.

"What is that?" she whispered.

"What does it feel like?" he muttered back, drawing her closer and she didn't seem to notice in her awe.

Laughter bubbled from her lips, and he couldn't help but smile at the tinkling sound, like a wind chime disrupted by the breeze. "Mischievous," she replied. "But... calm, and strong. Is it your magic?" she asked as she looked back up at him again. "Oh... You're very... tall." Her cheeks coloured again and Draco felt anything but calm now.

He managed to nod.

"Can you feel mine?"

"Yes," he breathed out. "Yours is headstrong, powerful, but... womanly."

They stared back at each other for what seemed like an eternity, enjoying the feel of each other, and Draco had to wonder what he was doing here with Ginny Weasley. It didn't make sense, but their magic had connected and he knew if he let her go now that nothing good could come of it.

"Why can't I stop staring at you?" she said quietly and still he heard her over the beating drums.

Dance with her, show her she is yours.

Draco tugged on her hand. "Come," he said. "Follow me."

Surprisingly, she followed, her hand still firmly gripped in his and he was pleased at the smallness of it, how delicate it felt in his own hand.

"This is mad," he heard her say.

Draco said nothing, and he knew it was right not to. Something was guiding him to the right path, but the way was only partially illuminated. He still did not know what this would lead to, and yet the stirring in his loins would notify him of that soon enough.

He led her to the edges of the gargantuan blaze in the middle of the clearing, where the beating of the drums was the loudest and the heaving mass of people moved together in time with the music.

The metallic taste of magic filled the air around them, the dancing and high emotion of the crowd heightened it's power with each step as they approached and Draco felt it permeate through him and into her. It was so primitive, so assured. Claim her, show her. The words were a rhythm in his mind now, an anchor to what he must do, the only thing that made sense in the chaos surrounding them. Draco turned to face her and grasped her by her small waist; she would dance with him here where the fire set their skin aglow, where the magic felt at its strongest and most arcane.

He spun her again so that her back pressed into him and he held her there to sway in time with the drums, his nose buried in the soft curls of her sunset hair. "Can you feel the magic in the air?" he murmured into her ear.

"Yes," she breathed out. "It's... I've never felt anything like it before... It feels ancient."

"It is," he replied. "It's the magic of our ancestors. They approve of our celebrations." Draco would never have repeated what he had thought to be utter nonsense, but the pulsing in his veins, the shock of her touch and the connection of their magic had opened his eyes. The witches and wizards of old showed him the way forward, and it all involved her, one way or another. He needed to claim her in the forest tonight, in sight of the moon shining overhead.

She turned in his embrace and laced her arms around his neck. "Let me see," she said, her voice quiet and almost pleading. "I need to see you."

No, not yet. She mustn't see you yet.

"You will soon enough," he replied. It wasn't the right moment, he had to be sure she wouldn't flee from him. If she ran from him in disgust, the spell would be broken... though, what this spell was, he was unsure. Draco was still unsure of what was happening to him, to her. "Perhaps you will not like what you see, little fae."

She laughed again. "I've liked what I've seen so far."

Draco smirked and tightened his grip on her, and his body yearned for her as it felt her hips swaying against him. He didn't know how much longer he could resist pulling her into the darkened forest. How could he have been so blind to her beauty? So beautiful she appeared to him that all else was mundane in comparison, and he felt a flicker of disgust for admitting that to himself. Yet, it disappeared like a forgotten idea, never to be remembered again.

"Witches!" A voice boomed through the forest, and all noise ceased. She clung to him still as she turned to see where the shout had come from. "Wizards!" The crowd whistled and cheered in response and the voice laughed. "Now, you Beltane veterans will know what comes next, ha ha! And it's not for the children to witness!" The crowd erupted with raucous laughter and Draco felt the heat within him permeating through his body, reaching into his loins...

Those who had brought children along began to disapparate, passing on their blessings to those staying behind before leaving.

"What's happening?" she asked, her voice showing her wariness.

"Merry-making," he answered.

She looked up at him. "Merry-making?"

Draco chuckled. "Why do you think they sent the children home?"

She stared and stared until realisation spread across her face, and her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh!" she gasped, but she hadn't pushed against him yet, hadn't turned tail and fled.

"Witches, it is hard I know," the voice said in a mock sad tone, "But you must leave your partner for now. To the edge of the trees, please, if you are taking part in the merriment, that is."

The women around them laughed and giggled as they stepped away from their partners, but she held him still. "Merry-making doesn't have to mean what you think," he murmured.

She stared up at him and he wasn't sure what she would do. Perhaps it was better if she did leave, who knew what the hell would happen if she stayed.

"OK," she replied back and she stepped away from him.

Don't lose her! You must have her!

Her warmth left him as she turned towards the forest and walked towards it. He didn't allow his gaze to leave her, he had to know she was there. Then she stopped in front of a huge oak tree, her back pressed against the bark as she faced him once more.

"Wizards! Don't lose sight of your lady if you wish for a happy ending..." the voice called out with a laugh. The women cheered and whistled at their men. "Ready... set..." Draco breathed deep, staring her down as she looked about her, confused. He forgot to tell her she was supposed to run, but she would see soon enough. It was all part of the festivities, re-enacting the thrill of the chase, and it fired his blood, awakened some primal instinct in him. "GO!"

The banging of the drums sounded again and the women shrieked with laughter as they took off into the trees, the men shouting as they raced to catch them. She stared, shocked, but turned to find him. He didn't run, there was no need, but he advanced on her slowly. Then she smiled wide and let out a shout of laughter before fleeing into the trees.

Draco smirked and sped into a run, his longer legs carried him further and he managed to keep sight of her flying red hair. The sweet scent of her followed behind and it was awakening a wildness in him.

She's ready, catch her, you must catch her!

Her laughter resounded in his ears as she weaved through the trees with perfect ease, and jumped over uprooted trees effortlessly. She was faster than he had expected, but he still had her in his sights, and the lust raging through him wouldn't allow him to lose her.

Further and deeper into the woods she ran, but the beating of the drums still thumped and now he could hear the sounds of lovers all around joining in. A flash of anger shot through him at the sounds, other men had been successful already and still he chased after her.

"You won't catch me...!" she called out with a laugh as they went further still.

Draco growled at this and withdrew his wand from his pocket. He would catch her, that was certain, and the woods grew thicker with trees and bushes but he blasted them aside without care. He just had to reach her, and soon, it was imperative that he do so. And that single thought carried him further, made him ignore the pain in his side from running and he was almost in touching distance of her.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide as she saw how close he was and she shrieked with laughter. "Don't you want to catch me...?" she called out.

More than anything, he wanted to call back but he didn't need to. The sounds of the drumming and the other lovers in the forest had ceased, and all was quiet were it not for them chasing through leaves. Only then was he able to reach her, and he grasped her waist as she leaped over a fallen tree.

"I've got you," he murmured as he pulled her close.

Her breath came fast, as did his, and her chest rose and fell with the effort of her running. But she didn't rest, she turned in his arms and he saw a blaze of fire in her eyes as she pulled him down to kiss her. Her lips were soft against his, impossibly soft, and her mouth was needy for his. Yet she pulled back and laughed breathlessly, took his hands in hers and led him into a small clearing where the moon shone down on them and the grass and flowers grew wild. An ancient tree stump stood directly in the middle.

"Now, can I see?" she asked quietly.

Draco was unsure. Would she run still? This he could not answer for certain, a doubt still niggled in his mind. "Another kiss first," he said, stepping closer to her. He would taste her at least once more.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, the moon shone beautifully on her pale skin and she looked more like a fae than ever. The slight upturn of her nose, the spread of freckles across her cheeks, the small heart-shaped mouth... She was so, so perfect. Draco tugged at her wrists and bent to kiss her again and this time he wanted to explore.

He coaxed her lips open and tasted her, and she fell into him with a sigh, her little moans of pleasure sending him wild. And he wouldn't let her flee from him now, not when she was so ready. But something was stopping him, frustrating him – a barrier he could feel emanating from her and it angered his primitive side, a side he was increasingly allowing to take control.

All will be well... Let her see. But she would scorn him, she would revile him, be disgusted with what she had done with him. Show her! Now!

Draco pulled back from her and smirked at her cry of protest. "You wanted to see," he said as he stepped away. "But, remember this. You're mine," he warned. "And I'll have you one way or another."

She stared at him, eyes wide as fear crept in, fear for who he might be, for what he might look like, and she swallowed hard before nodding at him. Of course she would agree; the want flowing from her was near tangible, the sweet scent of it so apparent. Draco reached behind his head to pull at the ties of his mask, eyes on her as they had been for nearly the whole evening, and he loosened it and tossed it to the ground.

She blinked and her hand flew to her mouth. "Malfoy?" she whispered as she inhaled sharply. She stumbled away from him and fell back onto the tree stump. "How... How...?" she muttered in confusion. "What spell have you put me under?"

Draco scoffed. "None whatsoever," he replied, and he moved closer to her.

"Stay there!" she squeaked, pointing at him. He stopped. "What are you doing here? Oh no... it doesn't even matter... what am I doing here? Why can't I fight you?"

He laughed again. "Fight me? Why should you wish to fight me?" he asked.

"Why did you kiss me?" she demanded.

"Why did you kiss me?" She stared at him. "Why do you still want to kiss me?"

She gaped at him, unable to answer for she knew why and the truth was perhaps too terrible to admit.

She wants you, show her.

Draco stepped closer again, and this time she said nothing in protest but he sensed that if he got too close, she would flee into the forest.

She dropped her head into her hands and sighed deeply. "This is wrong..." She muttered to herself. "I need to feel your magic again," she said as she looked back up at him, turmoil evident in the lines of her forehead. "Why is this happening?"

You are her equal – make her see.

"The ancestors approve," he answered.

"Approve of what?" she whispered.

"Us."

She breathed heavy and turned from him. "This is ridiculous, my family would never approve of you!"

Draco felt the white heat of anger burst through him and he closed the distance between them before she could protest. "You think this is ridiculous?" he growled as he wrenched her to him, and she gasped as he caught her mouth with his own.

She relaxed into him faster than he imagined, and he took pleasure in knowing that she couldn't fight this, just as he couldn't. And why would he want to now? Now, when her magic poured into him and consumed him, when her mouth was ready for him despite her protests.

Draco burned with errant lust, and it was as though the great bonfire in the field had replaced his own blood as it coursed through his veins. He had never needed a witch so badly before as he did now. He wanted to explore her, every inch of her and so he traced the length of her arms, all the while their magic danced and entwined together, pleased at what was happening.

But it wasn't enough, he needed to touch every part of her moonlit skin. She protested as he forced the plunging strips of fabric aside to expose her breasts, but she sighed with pleasure soon after as his hands caressed the soft flesh of her hardened nipples. Still, it wasn't enough. He needed to taste her.

"Why can't I stop?" she whispered breathlessly as he left her mouth.

But he was relentless, he couldn't allow her to think, to question, and so bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth, sucked and bit on the skin until he had the sweet pleasure of hearing her moan for him. He could feel himself hardening, felt the tautening of his trousers as his body prepared itself to claim hers.

She wants you, you must take her now! the voice urged excitedly.

Draco cupped underneath her bottom and lifted her up, and it sent a thrill through him when she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her breasts pushed against his chest and he knew he could wait no longer, he must have her. Wordlessly, he kneeled in the overgrown grass, the smell of the earth and soil strong as he lowered her against it.

She looked natural, as though she was always meant to be there, underneath him and the shine of the moon. But he couldn't linger too long, he could enjoy her beauty another time perhaps... With hands either side of her head, he leant in to kiss her but was stopped. Her own soft hands pressed on his chest before he could seal her lips again with his own.

"No one can know," she whispered, her bright eyes wide as she stared up at him.

Draco scoffed and buried his face in the crook of her neck, her sweet scent overwhelming him despite the flash of annoyance that lanced through him. "You're mine," he said gruffly, and she gasped as he bit her throat. "And all the world will know it." Then he kissed her.