Chapter Twenty One

Sunday 13 September 1998

Draco

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because I wake up warm and comfortable, but with a painful throbbing on my chest, shoulders, and face. At first I don't remember what happened, then it comes rushing back to me.

Harry, my mate, escaping, the chimaera, a wolf...

No, not a wolf. Harry's wolf. My mate. My mate saved me.

I told you, I told you, he doesn't hate us, he doesn't, Eli saved us, he saved us, he loves us, he does, he does!

I... I...

"Draco?" Mate.

I open my eyes, blinking at the light. It's bright at first, but I realise it's actually getting dark. It was just after breakfast when- when I fell asleep. We must have been out here all day. Because we are still out here - a quick look around shows we're still outside the chimaera's den. The chimaera who lies a few metres away, head a few inches away from its body.

And Harry. Harry, not the scrawny teenage boy-who-lived, but Harry the werewolf, Harry the dominant, Harry my mate. He lies next to me, so close I can feel his body heat. So close that it's not until I lower my eyes to avoid his own staring into mine that I realise he is naked. I blush madly, squeezing my eyes shut again, but the shape of him is imprinted on the backs of my eyelids- his smooth tan skin and muscles and hips and legs and- no, stop it, Draco.

He chuckles lightly, not meanly, and the sound is so sweet I want to hear it over and over and over until I die. He brings a hand to my cheek, rubbing a thumb across my blush, and I can't help but lean into it. He stops chuckling abruptly.

"My mate, my Draco," he says solemnly. And I realise, even if you were somehow miraculously right, even if he doesn't hate me, I still ran from him. I still disrespected him, my dominant, my mate.

No, no, apologise, quick, quick- but he cuts you off.

"I'm so sorry, my darling." Sorry? I open my eyes again, keeping them on his face. He looks sincere, and, in fact, sorry. Sad.

No, he can't be sad, mate can't be sad, make him happy again.

I raise a hand to his face, smoothing out the crease between his brows and running a thumb over his lips to pull them into a smile. I immediately worry I've gone too far - I did it without thinking, I just wanted him to be happy again - but his face splits into a real smile, a smile that makes every single thing in the world okay. Because surely in a world with that smile no bad things can ever exist.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would have done if..." and he gets sad again, and all the bad things come back. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" And I realise I spoke without him letting me, and my stomach drops in fear, because I've already been a bad sub, and he'll hate me, and-

"It's okay, it's okay, Draco." He pulls my hands away from my face which I didn't even realise I had put there. "You're allowed to speak. You don't need to ask." But... but I want to, I need to, how do I know what to do if he doesn't help me? I need him, I need him to- "Hey, hey, what's going on in there, darling? What are you thinking about so hard?"

"I- I need to ask. Please."

"Okay, that's more than okay, my love. Whatever you need. You have my permission to speak throughout this whole conversation, is that okay?" I nod, finally sucking in breath. "Good boy, you're so good for me." I chirp happily at his praise, nuzzling further into the hand that's still on my cheek.

We're good, we're good, mate thinks we're good!

"Now, What was your question?"

"Oh, um, why are you sorry?"

"Because you were hurt, Draco, and I wasn't there to save you."

"But... but you were."

"Not soon enough." He moves the hand that was resting absently on my hip to my chest, running his fingers gently across the healing wound.

"My fault. I shouldn't have flown away."

"Why did you?" He sounds sad, so sad, and I hate that I made him, my mate, my dominant, sound like that.

"Scared. Thought you would reject me." And then- he still could.

No, he wouldn't, stop, he saved us, he's holding us, he... he came after us.

"Oh, Draco. I would never. Never. We are meant to be together. I was made for you, to be yours. I'm yours, Draco." No, that's not right. I'm his.

"But- but... you hated me." A slight pause. Long enough that the tendrils I'd dread begin to wind their way back around my heart, but are banished as soon as he speaks.

"Emphasis on the past tense. I only did because I was young and stupid and I didn't understand the pressure placed on you. But I understand now. I only wish I had then, and maybe I could have helped..."

"No, no, not your fault, stop it." I hate the thought of my mate blaming himself for something he shouldn't. I hate it.

He smiles at me.

"This is why you seemed distant in the dreams, because you thought I would reject you?" I nod, somewhat shyly. "But you didn't know who I was. How could you have known?"

"You're not the only one who hates me. Or, I thought you did."

"Who? I'll kill them, Draco, I'm serious, just tell me who and I'll find them and make sure they never make you-" he looks so angry. I don't want him angry, I want him happy.

I press my forehead against his, effectively distracting him, without considering the consequences. My eyes are so close to his now. I can see every speckle of colour in them. They're green, sure, but a thousand different greens, darker on the outside, almost black, through every shade to the lightest green around the pupils, which have blown wide. His eyes sparkle with emotion, with strength. The way he looks at me makes me want to melt into this moment and become so intrinsically part of it that I stay here forever and time never passes.

The hand on my cheek starts tracing my face, the shape of my cheeks and jaw and brow and lips. Without my consent, my tongue darts out to taste his skin. He groans lowly, and the sound makes me keen, going limp against him, my head falling against his shoulder.

"Does it hurt?" I frown, then realise he can't see my face, so I speak instead.

"What?" What could possibly hurt when I'm with him, when everything is light and wonderful? I feel his hand go back to my cheek, running a finger in three lines across it.

"Here. The chimaera scratched you."

"Oh. I can't feel it."

"What about here?" he traces the wound on my chest, making me slightly breathless as I feel his hands brushing against my bare skin. I shake my head because any pain I might have felt is replaced with his skin, my mate's skin, on mine. "Or, here?" His hand goes to my shoulder, drawing patterns over the teeth marks. I mumble a no. "Or... here?" His hand runs from my shoulder through my feathers, and oh Merlin, that feels like all good things ever. A moan escapes my lips, and I feel his body go rigid against me.

The hand still on my cheek moves to my chin, lifting my face to his. His eyes are filled with something I can't quite decipher.

"Oh, mate mine. The things you do to me..."

And then his mouth is on mine, and you are screaming in my head, and his lips are soft and slightly chapped and warm and his hand threaded in my feathers moves to grip my hips and everything, everything, is better than it's ever been, and if this moment ever ends I'll just die. Because my mate is kissing me. My mate loves me. And Merlin, I love him.

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