KayCee (ex_kaycee154) wrote in do_me_veela, @ 2009-02-20 03:31:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | art, fic, pairing: harry/draco, veela fest 2009 |
Silver - Fic by lotus_lizzy & Art by dirty_darella
Title: Silver
Author: lotus_lizzy
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1400
Warnings: none
Beta: The honey to my bee, thesamanthahope
Prompt: Harry is bitten by a rabid veela and who knew it was a transferable affliction? Now he is suddenly beset by veela instincts and veela powers. Draco has known he has veela blood in him for years and has learned to hide and control those instincts, but when he sees Harry suffering, he offers to help.
Summary: A distress signal has been sent by a newly changed full Veela. Draco, along with many others, follow the call.
Author’s Notes: I know you called for crack, but the fic turned out to be a bit different. I hope you like it winnett! Also, HUGE thanks to dirty_darella for creating the perfect Veela Harry that I had in mind.
Disclaimer: This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
I have suffered too much in this world not to hope for another. ~ Jean Jacques Rousseau
Draco could feel the pulse. It radiated from the floor, through his toes and up his spine. The pulse pulled things that laid buried deep within him, so deep that he had been ignorant to their presence. Once the change began, an overwhelming feeling of right washed over any concern he might have had. His mother, who had been sitting quietly beside him sipping tea, stood, her white robes billowing. Her hair, released from its tight bun, flowed around her. The room suddenly grew larger, and the wind carried him away.
There were hundreds of them; all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Draco's mother was beside him, her majestic plume bright gold against her blue feathers. She was gorgeous, as were many of the birds around him. Draco wondered what he looked like, mentally wrinkling his nose at the idea of being bright orange or garish purple. Draco imagined his coloring to be regal, like his mother; a strong color that shone in the sun.
Draco spread his wings and burst forward. The wind enveloped him like a fantastic blanket while he lay on the sky. It was like riding a broom, except without the required work. Flying only needed him to stick out his wings and be.
A large white bird flew in formation beside him and his mother, his sharp yellow beak a stark contrast to the soft look of his downy feathers. Without a word or a call, Draco instantly knew it was his father, his imprisoned father, somehow released and flying free with his family again.
Whatever had happened, whatever spell they all seemed to be under, it was truly a miracle. How many hours had he spent late at night, dreaming of once more being a full family again, without bars or restraints? Was this a dream? Would Draco wake in the morning, hating himself for believing in such fancy?
Draco and his fellow birds continued south, all following an unknown beacon that called to them. They flew over earth, and then sea, and then earth again, flying for hours without tiring. They were somewhere over Europe, perhaps France, as more of their brethren had joined them once they had crossed the sea. Something was calling, and had changed everyone who did not, and should not, have had the ability to change before.
While coasting over a field of grape vines, Draco heard a shrill cry and dove straight down, following the sound. There was a fellow bird in distress; one whose wings were too heavy; his bones not light enough for the wind. This was the beacon call that the birds were following. Something wasn’t right and it had called to all of them for help.
The other birds were surrounding the pitiful creature, gathering in large circles and calling out into the sky. The creature was writhing in pain on the ground, naked, his bloodied wings pulling in and out of his human back. The transformation, which had been seamless for Draco and his mother, had clearly not gone as easily for this man.
Draco approached, signing a song of comfort and healing, as the other birds did, his voice strong and clear. But unlike the others, his song was the only one that reached the hurting man. The man's twitching had stopped, the movement on the wings had ceased. Then the man sang back, his torn throat chortling a low rough sound that resonated across Draco's skin.
Draco flew to the man's shoulders, nipping his ear and hair, biting his human flesh. The man had to turn. He could not survive in this half state. The man picked Draco up, holding him so that they could look at each other face to face. Draco could see his own silver feathers sparkle in the man's green eyes.
The man let go. His eyes went wide before there was a flash, and then a bird emerged, his feathers black and sleek with a tiny edge of silver on the tips of each feather. The silver was Draco's mark, left to show others that he had claimed this bird. The bird flew straight up and then back down beside Draco, urging him with a soft cry to follow, to fly, to be free.
They flew together for miles, their wings brushing against each other. This fellow bird was his match in every way. If Draco flew low, his fellow bird flew low, if Draco rolled, the bird rolled, if Draco flew higher than the clouds, the bird stayed right by his side.
Draco loved flying into the clouds, the white mist surrounding him, blending with his own silver feathers. In those moments, the black bird would fly tightly around him in a mock embrace, creating a spiral of air that churned around Draco.
Several of the birds that Draco had flown with in search of the distress call had parted ways. They were turning back to human form, no longer needed. Draco didn’t turn back, nor did he want to; and he knew it had something to do with this small black bird that was instinctively his partner and rival, brother and lover, all at the same time. Draco's parents remained steadfast below them, participating in their own more subdued flying match. The sun was shining; the colors and smells of the earth seemed richer. Draco crowed in happiness.
Draco recognized that they were approaching his childhood home by the smell of the old evergreens. He wanted to show his new bird friend all of the best branches and flew to his favorite tree, the one he had carved his name into when he was a child.
His parents had flown somewhere else on the grounds, but Draco could still hear their calls. Draco zoomed to his tree, landing on a sturdy branch, waiting to see the distinct black feathers beside him.
But as he landed on the branch, his body made another change and he was back to human again. Draco felt the sting of sadness and regret that he would never be a bird again. This was not an animagus transformation; this had been a change of necessity. Magic had given him a gift when it needed him, but now that he was no longer needed, magic had taken it away.
Draco was naked in a tree, his mind a mix of confusion and wonder. He closed his eyes in an attempt to gain reality once again. A light touch to his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. Draco opened his eyes to find his bird a human again, the man's green eyes wide with wonder.
Draco reached out a hand and brushed back the man's dark hair, revealing a tell-tale scar. Draco dared not speak, lest it ruin everything.
The man, Harry, leaned forward, his own cold naked body shaking. Draco wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him to his own body, ignoring all feelings of worry and doubt. This man had been his bird, it felt right to embrace him.
The two lay in the tree, legs and arms wrapped around each other. Draco felt down Harry's back, exploring the lumps of muscles and the scar lines. Two thick lines were atop each shoulder blade, the place where the foreign wings had dug their way out. Harry would have to learn how to control the wings, how to bring them out safely. There would always be pain, as with any change from human to creature, but it could be lessened, with help.
It had been thousands of years since the last one, the last true veela. Draco had no idea what Harry was doing or why he had been chosen, but it mattered little. Most likely, when his senses returned, Harry would argue, and the world would shake its fists at the involvement of a Malfoy, but Harry had chosen. He had chosen Draco's song among all the others. Draco had been the one to save him, and Draco's was the mark that would live forever on the wings of his bird.
The two lay together as Draco softly sang a song he was sure to repeat to his bird when he needed it.
--Fin--
Title: Veela Harry
Artist: dirty_darella
Rating:PG
Warnings: none