If I Told You I Was Yours...

Loving you

"Loving you, Is not a choice
And not much reason to rejoice, But it gives me purpose
Gives me voice to say to the world
This is why I live
You are why I live"

-Loving you- Barbra Streisland

Harry wrapped his arms around himself as he sat down in Dumbledore's office. After he found Malfoy practically half-dead in the abandoned bathroom, he had immediately alerted Ron and Hermione and they were able to move the comatose blonde to the Hospital Wing. Just thinking about the state of the slytherin had Harry shivering.

He took in a stuttering breath and faced Dumbledore. For the past ten minutes or so there had been nothing but silence in the room. The only thing keeping him grounded was Hermione's warm arm on his shoulder. 

Just then Madam Pomfrey walked into the room. The usually stern Mediwitch seemed troubled and shifty, fiddling with the edge of her dress. Dumbledore had requested that the situation with Draco be kept a secret until they figured out what exactly happened. The only reason why the trio were here was because they were witnesses to what happened.

"Is master Malfoy faring any better?" Dumbledore asked.

Madame pomfrey's nod was stiff and curt, her lips pressed into a thin line, "he has nearly completely recovered."

Dumbledore raised a brow in surprise. With the state he was found in the headmaster expected the young heir to be unconscious for a few days while the potions worked on reparing the damage done to his body.

"Well then, what is the report? Is there something else we should know?"

Madam pomfrey stiffened everywhere. Her eyes darted to meet Harry's for a second before swiftly looking away again. Harry wondered why.

"I am afraid that his injuries were self-inflicted." Madam pomfrey answered, her voice shaking slightly.

Hermione let out a gasp, her hands flying to cover her mouth while Ron cursed under his breath in surprise. Dumbledore looked oddly interested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Would you care to explain?" he asked, a grey eyebrow poised.

The healer looked extremely uncomfortable but nevertheless answered the old man, "it seems master Malfoy came into his inheritance as a veela recently. It's safe to assume that what happened has something to do with his found mate." at this she made a pointed glance at harry before looking away again.

Harry was shocked. Malfoy, a veela? Now that he thought about it, Malfoy did seem to have a pair of wings when they were moving him, Harry was just too keyed up on adrenaline to notice.

"If the git is a veela, why was he that badly hurt and what does that have to do with his mate?" Ron asked, a bit confused.

The nurse opened her mouth to answer but Hermione beat her to it, "Veela are a part of wizards and while they are one, the wizard and veela are two different beings entirely. The veela needs their mate to survive while the wizard may not necessarily care. In the case where the wizard hurts their mate, their veela physically or mentally tortures them as a repercussion."

The wild-haired witch was contemplative, brows taut with worry, "For the degree of pain Malfoy's veela put him through, it means that he either hurt his mate badly, the said mate despises him or is with someone else-" as she tapped her chin, she seemed to realise something because her eyes widened and she paused mid-thought.

Her eyes met Harry's and we're filled with what looked like surprise and sorrow. It seemed she had come to the same conclusion Poppy had.

"Harry?" She asked, her voice thick with emotion, "what was the last thing you said to Malfoy before he ran off?"

Harry looked affronted, " I didn't say anything! I only saw the dark mark on his arm and then he ran off!"

Hermione paused in thought, "it might not have been what you said, but the look you have him."

Harry bristled, "are we going to ignore the fact that Malfoy is a deatheater?  And what does his veela going berserk have to do with me?"

Hermione gave him a pointed look. Realisation was slow and crept up on him like a thief. His green eyes widened, lips parted in shock.

"No, are you saying that I? That Malfoy? That I could be malfoy's mate?" 

Madame Pomphrey sighed, hanging her head, "I believe that is the case."

Harry could only stare open mouthed at the woman in disbelief. He turned to face his best friends who both had grim and pitying expressions on their faces. Harry does not like that. He never liked pity.

"This can't be." He whispered.

***********************

Draco had been in the infirmary enough times to know what it smelled like.

He weakly propped his prone body on the pillows behind him, wincing when he stretched his still healing skin. When he was finally upright, he sighed heavily feeling absolutely irritated that doing something so simple had drained him so much. 

He leaned his head against the dry wall, eyes shut in despair.

If he was in the infirmary and treated, he could assume such, it meant that whomever had found him now knew he was a veela...something that wasn't meant to happen. He was ready to take his secret to his grave...literally.

He cursed as his fuzzy mind reminded him just exactly who found him.

"Of bloody fucking course, it just had to be you Potter."

His voice sounded horrible and hoarse even to him. If harry was the one who found him, it probably meant that the other members of the Golden Trio knew what he was which immediately translated to his inheritance coming to Dumbledore's knowledge. Like being cursed to die of loneliness was not enough for him.

"Malfoy?"

Draco hated how that voice filled him with dread but still lifted his spirits. Prying open one grey eye he caught a glimpse of The-Boy-Who-Lived standing awkwardly by the door, pushing his glasses up his nose in the way he did whenever he was nervous.

"Potter." He greeted back.

Harry seemed to take that as an invitation and walked silently in the room. He stood at the edge of the blonde's bed, close and yet distant. The raven shut his eyes for a moment to centre himself.

"Is...Are you? Are we? Fuck, I don't know how to ask this." The boy groaned in frustration, wiping his hands down his face.

Draco smiled wryly and closed his eyes again.

"Yes I am a veela, yes you are my chosen mate, no I did not plan this, yes I wish it had been different but I can't do anything about it." Draco voiced dispassionately.

The small hope blooming in Harry's chest that maybe the assumptions Hermione made were incorrect were dashed just when they began to take root. 

"Isn't there another way?" Harry sounded weak and he knew it.

The slytherin chuckled and finally faced the boy, his eyes burdened and dull.

"Loving you is not a choice." Draco let out drily, a maniacal grin on his face, "It is all I live for and I wish it wasn't."

So like fun fact about me: I can't stand angst😅

Leaves me way too depressed afterwards so I honestly don't know how this story came to be. Don't forget to vote and comment!

Alenny13