Chapter Twenty Two

Sunday 13 September 1998

Harry

I physically feel you relax when Draco stops bleeding, and you practically melt into the back of our brain, letting me take control as your body shifts into mine, the smoothest shift we've ever gone through. I'm naked, with nothing to change into, but I genuinely couldn't care less.

Now that my mate isn't in mortal peril, I can appreciate how truly beautiful he is. Everything about him is soft and delicate and pale. His skin is smooth like silk and pale like porcelain. His eyelids are long and blonde and fan out across his sharp cheekbones, one of which is red with blood and will probably be scared forever. I frown, if only because I can only imagine the upset it will cause him, before gently wiping the blood away. In his sleep, his face turns towards my palm, and I feel a rush of affection so strong it would probably take me off my feet if I wasn't already lying down.

He murmurs something to quiet for me to catch, and his lips curve gently up into a smile. That's another thing about him- his smile. It's something I've rarely seen. I've seen him smirk, sure, plenty of times, but smiling is rare, and laughing even more so. But that means I get to be the only person to make him happy, to see his smile, hear his laugh. And that is the greatest privilege I could ever ask for.

Aside from that, his smile is truly beautiful. His lips are thicker than they were before his inheritance (shut up, Eli, I did not spend my time staring at his mouth, thank you), and are light pink and smooth and I can't help but wonder if they feel as soft as they look.

There's only one way to find out.

I thought I just told you to shut up.

I trail my eyes to his chest - shut up, Eli - I didn't say anything - You were about to, though. Touché. Anyway, I realise his shirt is almost stiff with dried blood, so I remove it, trying not to wake him, then wrap his cloak back around his shoulders so he doesn't get cold. His body is truly breathtaking. His skin is even paler where it is usually covered by clothes, and softer too. His collar bones and hip bones jut out, and I find myself tracing them with the tips of my fingers, making him whine quietly in his sleep, and I know if I keep going and he keeps making that noise I'll do something I'll regret.

But he's so-

No, Eli.

I proceed to clean up the wounds on his chest and shoulder as best I can, before moving to his wings. I don't quite know how to address them. I can tell just by running my finger through the feathers that a lot are loose, and are making the wings a lot heavier than they need to be. A lot are also matted with blood, and I think the only thing for that would be to take a bath. But I can at least remove the old ones.

I groom his wings with my fingers, and sure enough more feathers than I expected come loose and fall away. I realise the ones that do are a much darker colour and look a lot messier and duller. It takes a while to do the whole of his wings, them being so big, but the motions are relaxing, and to be honest, I would give anything to simply be touching my mate. Once I'm done, what is probably hours later, his wings are more delicate-looking, softer, and shinier. They were beautiful before, but now they're so much more. I can barely take my eyes away. That's probably why I don't notice immediately when he wakes up.

When I finally pull my eyes away, it's to his eyelids fluttering, breath more irregular.

"Draco?" I murmur, trying not to wake him if he isn't actually awake. But he is, and his eyes slowly blink open, examining his surroundings before finally landing on mine. I think I stop breathing for a second. His eyes are grey and blue and confused and glossy and breath-taking. I didn't quite realise how close I was to him when he was asleep, but now I do. I notice every fibre of my being that barely brushes up against him. I want to pull him against me, be even closer, make him okay. My mate.

He breaks eye contact before I can get my breath back, and must realise how little I'm wearing because he immediately squeezes his eyes shut and blushes furiously and he looks so... innocent, adorable, that I might combust. A chuckle leaves my mouth because I can't believe I just called Draco Malfoy adorable. But he is, he so is. My submissive.

His blush deepens, and immediately I want to touch it, to feel his smooth skin warm under mine, so I do, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as delicately as possible. As he did when he was asleep, he leans into me, and my incredulous laugh dies off because he's awake. He's awake and conscious and is trying to get near. My mate wants to be near me. It's so different from how he acted before, in the mate dreams and in his dorm, and I wonder what changed, before I realise of course he's changed, he almost died, and he needs comfort whether he knows it or not. And then- my mate almost died. My mate almost died, and I only just got here in time, he was hurt because he was running away from me, and what kind of dominant am I if I let my mate get hurt that badly?

"My mate, my Draco. I'm so sorry, my darling." His eyes flicker open again and he looks at me with confusion, cocking his head so much like a bird I have to stop myself from cooing.

But then his hand slowly moves to my face, stroking my forehead before running over my lips and oh Merlin, I love him I love him I love him. My face splits into a smile, wider than I think I've ever smiled before, and the best thing is that he smiles too.

"I'm so glad you're okay," I say. Because he nearly wasn't. "I don't know what I would have done if-" I stop because if I don't I'll... I can't think about that. I can't think about my mate being hurt beyond rescue. I can't think about it being because I wasn't there to save him. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" And his voice is beautiful and musical and angelic, if scratchy from misuse and just waking up. But then his eyes get wide and scared, and his hand is pulled back from my face to cover his own, and he's shaking and whimpering and I realise he thinks he did something wrong. He thinks he spoke out of turn.

"It's okay, it's okay, Draco." I gently take his hands from his face and want to die at the fear I see there. "You're allowed to speak. You don't need to ask." But at that he somehow grows even more scared and starts shaking his head vigorously, eyes pleading with me. "Hey, hey, what's going on in there, darling? What are you thinking about so hard?"

"I- I need to ask. Please." And him begging is something else. He's so unbelievably submissive, and of course, he would feel more comfortable asking my permission to do things, he relies on me, I'm his dominant.

"Okay," I say, cutting off his probably chaotic inner monologue. "That's more than okay, my love. Whatever you need." But he's still tense, and then I realise- "You have my permission to speak throughout this whole conversation, is that okay?" At that, he finally relaxes, nodding, and breathes out deeply. "Good boy, you're so good for me." He chirps, the sound filling me with inexplicable joy, and nuzzles against my hand cupping his cheek.

A rush of your emotion suddenly reaches me, so strong that combined with mine it nearly overwhelms me, and I have to talk to distract myself before... I don't know. Before something.

"Now, what was your question?"

"Oh, um," he stutters, and I think I swoon a little. "Why are you sorry?"

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

"But... but you were." At first, I'm confused, and then I realise he means I came eventually. But eventually is not soon enough. I voice my thoughts, and to illustrate them, carefully trace the wound on his chest with my index finger, reminding him gently of what I was not there to prevent. But he slowly shakes his head, still looking confused. "My fault. I shouldn't have flown away."

No, no, not his fault, never.

And it's not, you're right, of course, it's not, but the reminder that he did do that, that he risked his life to get away from me, brings back the pain of it.

"Why did you?" I almost don't want to know. But I have to.

"Scared. Thought you would reject me."

No!

So he did think that. Oh, Draco, my mate. I will kill whoever caused him to feel so unworthy to think his mate would reject him.

"Oh, Draco. I would never. Never." I want so badly to get this through to him. "We are meant to be together. I was made for you, to be yours." He smiles, shyly and small, but I would do anything to see that smile forever. "I'm yours, Draco." But then he frowns.

"But- but... you hated me." I want to tell him that of course, I didn't, he's my mate and I would never, could never, hate him. But I also could never lie to him.

"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..." I want to keep going, but he cuts me off.

"No, no, not your fault, stop it." I feel a flood of warmth and affection for him, not just from me but from you as well, and my mouth stretches into a grin. And then I realise-

"This is why you seemed distant in the dreams; because you thought I would reject you?" He nods, slowly, blinking up at me through his thick lashes and he is the most beautiful and adorable thing in the world. "But you didn't know who I was," I continue. "How could you have known?"

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

Kill them. Who has hurt mate? Give them pain.

"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-" His forehead is on mine, and my breath is stolen away. Because his eyes are so big. His skin is smooth and soft where it touches mine, and I almost want to fuse into him so we become the same person and never have to be apart. So I never have to stop touching him. His face is so close to mine that I can see every aspect of his face; the exact slope of his nose and speckles of grey in his eyes and shade of rose that his lips are.

My fingers start tracing the shape of his face, wanting to have it not just under my eyes but under my skin, his beauty not just etched behind my eyelids but into the pads of my fingers. I stroke across his cheekbones - so sharp that if I did so any harder they would probably cut me - and along his jawline - that I long to trace with not just fingers but lips - and I keep going until I've mapped out his entire face with my hands until my fingers come to rest on his lips.

Until something damp and warm strokes my fingers - his tongue, oh Merlin - and I only have the breath to moan because I want to touch that tongue with my own, to feel it dance against mine, to feel it pull my fingers into his mouth and suck, a mere prelude to something more.

He releases a high pitched whine before practically collapsing onto my shoulder, his wounded cheek hitting my shoulder bone fairly hard, and through all the bliss is a moment of clarity, because I cannot let my mate be hurt.

"Does it hurt?"

"What?" I tenderly stroke his cheek.

"Here. The chimaera scratched you."

"Oh. I can't feel it." I'm glad. I never want him to feel pain.

"What about here?" I say, tracing the one on his chest again. He shakes his head against my neck. "Or, here?" I lightly trace the pattern of his name- the only thought occupying my brain- against the wound on his shoulder, and I feel the breathy 'no' against the skin of my neck. "Or... here?" I thread my fingers through his feathers again, like I did before he woke, and he releases the most gorgeous moan I have ever heard, making my whole body stiffen.

I lift his face so it's peering up into mine, and say, quite without thinking, "Oh, mate mine. The things you do to me..." And I bring my face down to his, pressing my mouth ever so gently against his, giving him time to pull away, but praying he won't. But he doesn't, and then I'm kissing him, Draco, my mate, my sub, and you are screaming, and I am so, so, inexplicably happy. Because this; my mate in my arms, my skin against his, my tongue gliding gently over his lips; this is what happiness is.

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