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For those commenting they don't like the concept of Veela!Draco. It's written in the description, I'm not forcing you to read :)

GeneralUnicornDuckPudding : I absolutely loved receiving your comment! Hope this chapter meets up to expectation :3

Chapter Ten

There really wasn't anything he could do about it. It was out in the world.

He hated that it had happened out of his control. For the longest time he had managed to keep the upper hand on how he presented himself to the world. Even during Sixth year, when his world was falling apart, he kept most of his posture and made sure to portray himself as confidently as he was supposed to.

Only Potter had seen through it.

Damn Potter again.

It hadn't even occurred to Draco that he also had a harpy transformation. He should have known of course, he was present at the Triwizard tournament. And with his proclivity to anger, he should have been more weary of it.

The moments after the transformation were spent in a haze. He was brought back to the hospital wing just as Potter and the Weaselette left. He didn't pay any mind to the potions he was handed or the orders that were given to him.

What would be the point?

It seemed like the darkness had crept upon him further than before. Knowing that Potter was aware of the situation and hadn't jumped into his arms - as if he would - seemed to push his symptoms further. He wanted to reason with himself that Potter's reaction made sense but the Veela inside him felt that rejection more strongly than anything he could reason.

He stayed in the hospital bed for the rest of the evening with the cover over his head. It didn't matter much for him, he couldn't see his surroundings or the lights emanating from the ceiling, but he still felt the urge to hide from the world; like the blanket could make a protective barrier, preserving him from the reality of what had happened.

The pain was soaring through him. He felt the fibers of each individual muscle contract, making him shake violently. He felt every drop of sweat trickling down his back, like a drop of boiling potion leaving a trail on his body, weaving around him like a web.

He wanted to sleep.

He wanted to sleep so badly.

And never wake up.

The feeling woke him up. That sensation of hearing something in your dream that is not supposed to be there, you know something is happening around your body, and you have to wake up at once. That's how Draco woke up.

He had no way to gauge what time it was but as he finally lifted his head from underneath the covers, no light shone from the windows. There was just a small golden glow emanating from a small candle on his bedside table.

A golden glow radiating on a golden boy.

Potter lifted the chair from the nearby desk, slowly bringing it to Draco's bedside. He sat down, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the desk. Draco watched his every move, hoping to understand some hidden message, catch a glimpse of something Potter wouldn't say.

For a moment the Gryffindor remained like that, sitting with his hands folded on his lap, looking towards the corner of the sheets.

Draco bit the inside of his cheeks, waiting until finally Potter said:

"So you're not dying."

"I told you I wasn't," Draco breathed, allowing the pressure out of his chest.

Potter licked his lips as he twiddled with his fingers. Draco wanted really badly to hold his hand, soothe him somehow.

The raven looked up. Draco could see the redness that had pooled on the underside of his eyes, the lines that had creased between his brows.

"So…" Potter started, "I'm your mate?"

Draco had no way to reply. In no way had he been prepared to hear those words coming from him. So he just nodded slowly.

Then, their eyes locked.

The heat spread between them as their heavy hearts synched.

Without realizing it, Potter leaned closer.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" he asked.

Draco swallowed as he replied earnestly, "I don't know."

"You would have let yourself die before telling me?"

"I don't know."

Potter sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You and your damn pride," he muttered.

"It has nothing to do with pride."

Potter looked up, the demand clear on his face. Draco couldn't keep the gaze and looked down towards the other's lap.

"What would be the point in telling you," he whispered, gritting his teeth, "You're with your redhead aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And you love her?" He had to visibly swallow just to get the words past his lips.

"Yes."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. He felt the rush reach his brain, causing a searing pain in his temples.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice clearly shaken.

Potter looked away, towards the moon vaguely visible behind the clouds. Draco felt his embarrassment and his fear.

It was more than either of them should have to bear; after everything they've been through.

Potter breathed in deeply. "Explain it to me," he said, "All of it."

"Well…" Draco started, "Veelas are magical beings with a specific statut at the Minitr-"

"Geez not that you prick," Potter interrupted angrily, his frustration plastered over his features, "You. Explain what it's been like for you. How did you find out it… was me?"

"Oh…"

Draco waited a moment, not knowing where to begin.

Finally he breathed out and started, "I think it would be near impossible to explain it. When I spotted your foul hairdo on the train at the beginning of the year, I just knew."

"There wasn't any doubt?"

"None."

Potter nodded slowly, looking away, "And since? How's it been?"

"It has been alright. No more uncomfortable than celebrating Christmas with Father and his obsession with removing everything remotely Christmas, down to vanishing the ghost if they dare mention it."

Draco saw the ghost of a smile on his mate's lips and it gave him a moment of reprieve.

"I can tell when you're lying you know," Potter whispered, "Don't ask me how, I just do."

"Right…"

The raven scooted a little closer still, as if trying to pry Draco open slowly. And he was succeeding. He tilted his head to be at the same level as him and share his eyes for a moment that seemed to stretch on. He put his hand on the bed, near Draco's outstretched arm.

"That bad huh?" He finally concluded.

Draco swallowed loudly, "Pretty bad yeah."

The blond stared at Potter's hand, just within reach. It seemed placed there for him to grab, to create a link between them and he felt drawn to it in a way he couldn't describe. He laid his own fingers flat, hoping to extend them slowly. Potter seemed to notice and frowned at their hands.

But then, he slid his fingers forward until their skins met and without a second thought, two of their fingers were interlaced.

And something clicked.

Draco's world opened up. His heart settled. The burning in his veins became a comfortable heat, comforting the cramping of his muscles. His entire body let go of what it was holding onto so desperately. He felt Potter's magic flow through him, mixing into him.

As he looked at him, his eyes had never been a brighter emerald.

Potter held onto his fingers tighter.

"Is that normal?"

Draco shrugged, "Probably."

The Gryffindor gave him a half smile before doubt crept back onto him and Draco felt the shaking of his hand.

Potter leaned forward more, their hands becoming one more and more.

"Why me?" he whispered.

As Draco looked into those sincere eyes, into that gaze he had shared often in the last decade, that has haunted him since the first time he had seen them, he knew the answer.

Deep inside he knew the answer.

But he held onto the hand tighter, scared of letting go, and answered, trying to convey as much sincerity as possible,

"I don't know."

And there it is ! I'm ill and dealing with a lot of things so inspiration hasn't been as present as I'd like… if you have any suggestions I'm more than open to them! :)

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