HeartBreak (Veela Drarry)

Can't Give Him Up

Draco had never really understood the big deal about being a veela. He didn't think it was a good thing at all based on what he read about final rejection and its effects. Being a veela had caused the blonde nothing but pain and indifference.

But after Harry came over for dinner a week earlier, the brunette was suddenly an open book with Draco. They told each other everything. Or more like Harry only talked and Draco only listened and stayed silent because the last time he had shared his thoughts, his mate had gotten mad and Draco didn't want that happening again.

None of that mattered, though. The important thing was that Draco finally understood the beauty behind being a veela, the overwhelming feeling of having his mate next to him, sharing, laughing, and even crying. Anything Harry did flooded Draco with joy so intense that he wanted to jump up and down on the spot and run around shouting that his mate was the perfect man in every single way.

And Harry seemed happy about their time together as well. They had made a silent deal to finish all their work within the first half of their shift then spend the rest of it chatting. Anytime his mate was called into the field, Draco would simply stay there and daydream about Harry. And when that wasn't enough, the blonde would steal some of Harry's pens or staplers or something so the brunette would touch Draco's hand while taking another from the blonde.

I wonder if he feels that spark between our fingers, too...

He learned a lot of things about his mate during that short period of time. For one, Harry seemed... unsure about everything he did, constantly asking Draco if he had said the right thing during certain meetings or cast the right hex during a field job or used the right words in a report. The brunette also tended to drift mid-conversation, and lower his voice so only he, himself, could hear what he was saying. Draco was sure Harry wasn't aware he was doing it. Every time, the brunette would suddenly look up at Draco and clamp his mouth shut when he realized he was still speaking, ending the unfinished conversation entirely.

Those were the moments Draco was the most worried about their friendship, unsure if the brunette was stopping because he didn't trust the blonde enough to continue, or because he just didn't feel like it anymore. His inner creature self was screaming at him, telling him to ask his mate why he isn't finishing his deep thoughts, why he is cutting himself off, and whether he trusts Draco enough to keep going. The blonde fought the urge with all he had. He didn't want to push Harry in any way. What they had was more than Draco had ever thought he could have with his mate. Of course, he wanted more; he would always want more, but this could be enough for him forever.

"Oi, Malfoy, are you sure you don't know where my pens have been going?"

Harry's voice interrupted his line of thought and he looked up to find the brunette scratching the back of his head and looking around his desk frantically.

"I don't." the blonde squeaked, his inner veela allowing him to lie to his mate just for the wonderful feeling of passing him a pen.

"Right, then, I'll go borrow one from Ron." the brunette murmured to himself, then got up and left the office.

Draco blinked, huffed, then slumped in his chair, frowning and biting his lip.

Why didn't he ask me for one this time?

Are Ron's pens somehow better than mine?

Because he'd be a better partner than me?

Because Harry would always rather be with him than with me?

What does the red-head have that I don't?!