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Chapter two: Welcome Home
Draco had managed to survive the rest of his summer. Somehow. Thankfully the pull wasn't yet unbearable and he was slowly getting used to feeling disassociated.
He had read up on the progress of his condition, however there seemed to be precious little useful information as it was rare for a Veela to refuse themselves the option of finding their mate on the evening of the inheritance.
It did seem that there followed a certain pattern though. The true symptoms for Veelas only truly start when the identity of the mate becomes known (within a certain delay. Past six months without the identity, symptoms will start with a vengeance and with lethality). From that moment on, every part of the Veela becomes geared towards seeking and obtaining their mate.
So for the remainder of the summer, Draco was able to pull through with minimal discomfort.
Stepping onto the Hogwarts Express however was quite a different experience. He had expected people to look at him and whisper behind his back. He was sadly quite recognizable and the Malfoy name had not been out of the papers since the end of the war; firstly documenting their respective trials, then uncovering Lucius' murder, Narcissa's disappearance and speculations of Draco's future.
Therefore he was perfectly prepared to be recognized and judged.
But, he hadn't quite anticipated the look of reverence people sent him.
They regarded him not with hatred or fear, but with a form of begrudging admiration and fascination; pointing at him and staring at him with open mouths, remarking upon his changed features, like they were not truly capable of remembering his deeds.
He rolled his eyes. He had been hoping for indifference as he forced himself through the indignity of having to repeat his year at Hogwarts, knowing that he would have a hard enough time to find a suitable job with his current status; a goal which would become impossible if he also flaked his NEWTs.
As he passed a particularly egregious group staring at him he sighed and turned towards them.
"What?" He demanded, "Have you never seen beauty before? Off with you."
The group of what he was supposed were second year girls, stared at him more intensely for a moment before scurrying away. But Draco didn't pay them any mind anymore.
It was the first time he had spoken since his inheritance and he wondered whether it was due to his corporeal detachment or his changed status, but his voice had an echo quality to it. It was higher than he was used to and seemed to linger in the air around him, projecting away from him like a song whispered into a wishing well.
He stepped onto the train and without a single glance headed towards the compartments at the end where there would be less people.
As he passed in front of the compartments, he felt a pressure rising in his chest that he tried to ignore.
Fuck, not already. I'm not ready.
The thread joining him to his taken heart was pulling at him, directing him with force. His fists clenched but he couldn't feel the nails digging in his palms. It was like there was a brighter tunnel in front of him of clear vision when everything around him faded to black.
Don't, he thought harshly, don't show them to me.
A wave of energy crashed into him through the thread linking him to his mate making him stumble against the sides of the train.
The energy was so pure, so strong.
So beautiful.
It filled him with a sense of power and belonging.
It took away his breath.
In an instant, the energy wave was taken from him, ripped out of his being. It pushed out of his chest as if he was ejecting it.
With its loss, he seemed to lose control over his legs and slumped against a compartment. He breathed deeply for what felt like the first time since he stepped on the train. He sensed the shaking in his hands as he tried to prop himself up.
The compartment door he was leaning on suddenly opened and he fell heavily inside, incapable of side stepping.
"Whaa!" Exclaimed someone from inside.
Draco swore beneath his breath and put his hands on the floor, heaving himself slowly.
"Malfoy?"
For fucks sake.
Of course it had to be Harry freaking Potter.
Draco summoned the strength he could and stood up in the midst of the golden trio.
"Your powers of observation are still exceptional, Potter," he spat as he turned towards the git.
Shit.
He stopped in his tracks the second he laid eyes on Potter.
The world went dark, except for Potter's face. Every sound safe for his breathing disappeared.
Draco could hear Potter's heartbeat, his own tuning to the rhythm. He could feel the heat emanating from the Gryffindor's body. He could see every one of his pores, every strand of his hair, every tiny freckle on his cheeks, every detail of his emerald eyes. Nothing in his life had ever been as clear as Potter did in that one moment. He couldn't look away.
He swallowed heavily.
Potter seemed to sense him in the same way, staring at him with a frown, his mouth open as if he was starting to say something but couldn't.
Draco felt his body reaching out for the raven, the thread pulling him closer to claim what was his, take back his heart.
In that second it didn't register who he was looking at it, that it was a Gryffindor, that it was a man or that it was Potter. It didn't matter.
Draco knew deep inside of him, that he was looking at his entire world.
An entire world broken as he was shoved from behind and a spell was broken, propelling him back to blurry surroundings and automatic responses he had perfected over the years.
He turned around fast and snapped, "Keep your filthy paws off me Weasel, I shudder to think where they've been."
He rushed out of the compartment without waiting for a reaction.
Every step further became increasingly heavier and he finally had to settle for an empty compartment two over from the trio's.
He sat down and clutched at his hair. His entire being was shaking. The further he had walked, the blurrier his surroundings had become.
He bit the inside of his cheeks so hard a metal taste spread over his tongue.
Fuck
Fuck!
FUCK!
His mind screamed.
Nothing, no books, no talk, not his father, not his mother could have prepared him for this. There was nothing he could have done to lessen the turmoil he was going through.
Harry bloody Potter.
He let out a breath close to a sob.
Realizing that after everything he's been through - fixing the closet, getting the dark mark, Voldemort under his roof, the war, the loss of his family - he had made it through all that. While he had not come out stronger on the other side, he had survived.
He realized that even after all of that, this would be what would kill him.
Being Harry Potter's mate would kill him.
He had never been more certain of anything in his life.
There will be more action starting next chapter! Please like and review it really helps! xxx
