Beast of a thing
“What can I get you?” asked a loud voice, and Harry rubbed his face till his eyes burned.
“Hmm?” was clearly not the right answer.
“Coffee? Seems like you might need one. And something to nibble on. Sweet or savoury?”
“I,” Harry said, which wasn’t that much better. The—person?—who kept pestering him was smiley and extremely bright-eyed. Leaned down to him over a dark-blue apron, half-conspiratorial, half amused.
“Sweet, I should think.”
How rude. Harry crawled in here to die peacefully, not be badgered about fucking coffee. But a few seconds—minutes?—later there was more bustling, and someone placed a cup right next to where he was holding his head. It smelled hot. It smelled good.
Before he could even make the decision, Harry’s hands grabbed it and—oops—spilled a little, never mind. Yeah, it burned. Yeah, whatever. Harry raised the cup with a shaky fist and sipped something horrible and scalding hot. He felt, absurdly, and for the first time in—he felt a little bit like a person again. How fucking embarrassing. How fucking inaccurate.
“There you go, darling,” this time armed with a scone. The smell of clotted cream made Harry’s eyes roll back, made him choke. The jam was even worse, so sweet he nearly gagged. “This should cheer you right up.”
He nearly, nearly laughed. Was too busy growling, rubbing his pointy teeth against his inner lip. Something in his expression must have finally registered with the perky waiter, since they hurried back, tray cluttering as they hit something. Harry could finally go back to his—
“What now?” to the movement from the corner of his eye, but—the smell hit him first, hit harder. Lemon zest and evergreen forest. Something so pleasant it made Harry whimper, made him close his eyes. The newcomer used this reprieve to sneak into the seat next to Harry, so close their knees were touching.
“What do you want?” Harry asked, or whined. It hurt behind his molars, it hurt in the pit of his stomach. The touch, the unbelievable pressure coming from deep, deep inside.
“Hello to you too, Potter. You’re not an easy man to find.”
“Not an easy man,” Harry managed.
“Not a man,” Malfoy countered.
“Not,” Harry, “interested. Go back to the Ministry and—”
“So you really haven’t heard? I quit.” When Harry chanced a look, Malfoy was busy examining his fingernails. He looked—he smelled—he—was an onslaught Harry couldn’t, wouldn’t withstand.
Instead of whimpering again, of being pathetic: “So what do you want? Why come all this way if it wasn’t some…”
“Scheme?” Malfoy uncrossed his legs, leaned back. Too fucking much; Harry’s mouth watered already. “Plot? Who said it wasn’t. Maybe I’m hunting you down all for myself now.”
“Why,” Harry growled.
“Maybe I didn’t like the way you left.” A rustle: Harry didn’t need to look to know what that sound was. “Dear Malfoy, I hope you’ll understand—”
“Enough.”
Malfoy’s gaze burned on his skin. Malfoy’s everything burned. “—there’s nothing else I can do—”
“Enough. Please.”
A bang, too loud; his fist on the table. The coffee cup trembled, didn’t spill. “Oh, is that too much? Hearing your own stupid words? You can take it, sweetheart. We’ve not even got to the good part yet.”
Harry tried to take cover behind his hand. “Please, it’s—”
“I think you might be my mate,” Malfoy quoted in the iciest tone Harry’s ever heard, “Which is exactly why I have to go—”
“I did!” hiding, hiding. “How could I stay, how could I do anything when I knew I’d be putting you at risk? The Ministry won’t stop. And even if—even if they did,” in this horrible, shaky voice. “What I’ve become—”
“A fucking idiot, you mean?”
Harry looked up.
Malfoy’s lips were so thin. “I don’t care what you are. I don’t care what they tried to make you into. You think I might be your mate and then you run? Sentence yourself to, what, a miserable, lonely existence just because you’re scared?”
The shudder took him so hard he nearly fell. “I can’t hurt you,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I won’t.”
“You have, arsehole,” with exasperation that seemed oddly fond. “Come on, Potter. You didn’t even do me the courtesy of asking.”
“Asking?”
“Veelas have mates too. You’d know if you bothered to stick around.”
“They have—” something whirled in his belly, in his chest. Something sickening and bright. “Wait. Are you saying—what are you saying?”
“You can’t hurt me.” Malfoy bent closer. “Not in the way you imagine. Not if you stay and work it out like an adult. I won’t let the Ministry use you as a weapon. I won’t let anything—I’m saying you’re an idiot, and I’m an even bigger one, and that if you’d run from me again, you’ll regret it.”
A smile burst, baffled and hot between his cheeks. “You… are you serious?”
“You think I came all this way for a joke? I only commit to things that are worth my while.” His grey eyes, burning. “Are you worth my while?”
Helpless, he grabbed Malfoy’s hand. The scent of him in Harry’s nose, heavenly and far too strong: everything he could hope for, that he tried to escape. “Please,” Harry croaked.
Malfoy hummed, leaned back. Used his free hand to steal Harry’s scone. “I’m staying across the road. When you’re quite done—”
On his feet. “Done.” The edges of Malfoy’s lips twitched.
“Very well.” He got up, cast a look from under his endless lashes. “Potter. If you leave again—”
“I won’t,” Harry promised, and meant it. Won’t be able to, now that he had Malfoy back in his arms, smelling and looking and being like that. Now that Harry felt alive, and like a person, and also not. Better than any treat, sweet or savoury. Bitter and sour, lemon zest and evergreens: his Malfoy. His mate.
For my dear @generalpizzaengineer and their prompt 💖
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LISTEEEEN CAN SOMEONE WRITE THIS PLEASE
Draco was gone after the Battle of Hogwarts. His family, family, and officials never found him or his body. Everyone thinks he is dead.
After 5/10 years Harry & Hermione raided a warehouse full of magical and rare creatures trapped and being sold to the black market.
They discovers a room that has full of wards (they easily remove them of course) and inside was a cage with a creature in chains.
Its wings are severed and cut, and its body was full of bruises from different healing stage and dried blood. A dirty cloth to cover it’s back side.
The creature turn its head by the noise they make and both of them was shock to see it was Draco Malfoy.
Ps. Draco lost his memories and can’t speak words. He is violated/abused by his owner and when he didn’t listen they would cut his wings.
Pps. I know Veelas are strong I just want my angst
Ppps. Harry is an Auror and Hermione works for The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures ☺️
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Obviously, draco is a veela in tgk, but do you have any hcs on veela in general, or people with veela descent? Are any of them similar to the creature inheritance trope that's popular, or do you think they just grow up with veela abilities?
i've probably read at least half of the veela fics out there, it's one of my favorite tropes, so i feel like my person headcanons are a mixture of my own ideas and all the ideas i've read before.
i'll explain this in the story of the golden king eventually, but my headcanon is that male veelas are exceedingly rare. they're much closer to full creatures than they are to wizards. draco didn't grow up with his veela abilities necessary, though there were a few things that he was more sensitive to or better at because of his veela heritage. i will say that he hasn't come into his full veela self yet, though he will eventually
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If you like dramione and:
Veela Draco
Dramatic Draco
Idiots to lovers
Denial of feelings
Draco speaking Italian
Draco knowing how to cook
Mutual loss of virginity
Draco & Harry becoming friends
Oblivious Hermione
You should give my Veela fic THE WRONG CHOICE a chance!
Summary:
After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Death Eater's trials have begun. Lucius Malfoy is already in Azkaban, and now is Draco's turn to face the Wizengamot and accept his fate.
Three witnesses are waiting to testify on his behalf, and one of them is Hermione Granger. As he sees her, his blood starts to burn, and his skin tingles.
The brown eyes of Hermione bore into his, and at that moment Draco knows he is fucked.
She is his mate.
133k words, Rated M, only available on Ao3 (you need to log in first)
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