Chapter: Instincts 06/10
Author: Beren (aka Didi)
Disclaimer: This story 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 and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: This story is set post OOTP and therefore has SPOLIERS. If you don’t want to know anything that went on in book five do not read this story.
Summary: Harry defeated Voldemort: his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He’s trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.
Author's Notes: This fic has Veela!Draco and lots of other things that appear to have become fandom clichés, which was part of the point in writing it :). I've had great fun with this fic, trying to explore ideas in a slightly different way than I have seen before. It may have Veela!Draco, but it is all from Harry POV in case you were wondering. Thanks go to Soph for the beta. Chapters 9 and 10 will be out tomorrow morning, but 6,7,8 are ready so here they are.
Chapter 6 Instincts
Harry woke feeling stiff and uncomfortable, as if he'd been lying in an awkward position for too long, but when he tried to move he discovered he couldn't. When he attempted to bring his hand up to his face he managed to shift it no more than a few millimetres before he encountered opposition. Opening his eyes he glanced down and confirmed what his sense of touch was telling him: he was lying on a hospital wing bed and he was attached to it with full body restraints.
There were padded leather cuffs on his wrists and his ankles and there was a long strap across his chest and another over his hips. Harry was very firmly connected to the bed and from the slight tingling that the restraints caused in his skin he didn't think they were Muggle made either.
His first instinct was mild panic and he pulled against the confinement with little effect, but it took him only a few moments to calm himself down. This was still Hogwarts: he could recognise Poppy's touches around the small room where he was being kept and Dumbledore would not have let anything happen to him. However, that still didn't answer the questions: 'How long had he been here?' and 'What on earth had he done to warrant being strapped down?'
Relaxing back onto the bed and taking a few deep breaths, Harry tried to clear his mind and see if he remembered anything. A vague feeling of anger and pain filled him, but no memories surfaced to help him understand; the last thing he could recall clearly was the Great Hall. A certain amount of time had to have passed because he was wearing hospital-wing pyjamas rather than his school uniform and his stomach felt like a very large empty hole, but how long was a mystery. He was considering calling out to see if any one was listening when the door opened anyway.
The moment the oak barrier cracked open so much as an inch Harry felt it: a pull on his senses that filled him with a need so urgent that it physically hurt. Every nerve in his body came alive as he went from relaxed to painfully aroused in less than a second. His mate was somewhere on the other side of that door and Malfoy's magic called to him. Harry couldn't stop himself; he pulled at the restraints as hard as possible, twisting and trying to arch off the bed. He had to get out. He needed to be free and he yelled his fury to the world.
Nothing mattered, nothing but joining with his mate and it filled every thought. He strained to release himself, but Harry was held in place and it caused him pain. He was aware of little except the fire in his flesh, but he felt it when the door closed and the source of his agony was cut off. One moment it was there clawing at his mind and body and the next it was gone, but it did not stop the reactions that it had already started. He could not prevent himself continuing to pull at the leather and although it dimmed, the molten lava in his veins still burned.
His eyes stared at the world, but he registered nothing, all Harry knew was the need and it consumed him completely. His protests were incoherent and animalistic, but he couldn't think enough to make them anything else. Only gradually did it begin to fade and slowly he became aware of a hand gently stroking his forehead and a voice speaking to him. Bit by bit the world started to make a little sense and his reflexive resistance to his bonds calmed from its frantic level. Harry still struggled, but only weakly and eventually he understood who was talking to him and what she was saying.
"It's alright, Harry," Poppy's calm tones washed over him as he gradually shifted flat onto the bed, "let it go. That's right, try and relax."
It took a long time and a stream of gentle words from his carer before Harry could stop moving all together. He heard himself mew quietly as he slowly came down from the over stimulated high that had taken away all control. Only as the last tremor died away did he finally open his eyes properly and actually see Poppy's calm but concerned face looking down at him.
"Thank you," he said quietly, ashamed of his reaction and aware that the physical arousal the incident had caused in him had not faded as completely.
Harry noticed all too well that he was wearing only thin pyjamas and there was no sheet to hide his embarrassment.
"All in a day's work, Young Man," Poppy said in her usual business like fashion and gave him a small smile.
Her completely normal manner and efficient approach was a relief to the confused and self-conscious young wizard and Poppy seemed very pleased by his coherent communication.
"Now, Harry," she continued calmly, "how are you feeling?"
The burning had faded leaving a tingling all over his body, but even so, now that he knew what could happen Harry could feel the raw need sitting just below the surface waiting to return.
"Like I'm ready to explode," he said honestly. "Poppy, I can't control it at all."
"That's what the wards are for, Harry," the woman assured him firmly. "If I had realised you were awake I would have been more careful when I came in. I will do my best to make sure it does not happen again, and when I am satisfied that we have everything perfect I will remove the restraints."
That at least was a relief, but it begged another question.
"What about Malfoy? Is he okay?" Harry asked, finding himself very concerned.
Poppy nodded and rested her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
"Mr Malfoy is under similar compunctions as you, but he has so far remained lucid," the healer explained evenly. "I believe the stupefy hex caused an adverse reaction in you at a time when your magic was in turmoil. Mr Malfoy has been locked in another isolation room at his request, but it was possible to restrain him physically in the Great Hall rather than magically, so he has suffered no ill effects."
Apart for a desperate need to shag me, Harry thought to himself.
"How long?" he asked and shifted slightly in the restraints to illustrate what he meant.
"Roughly six hours," Poppy replied openly. "You were brought here after Miss Granger hexed you, but when we tried to revive you we managed only to restore your more primitive aspect. I'm afraid it was necessary to stupefy you a second time; I did not think you would be awake for some hours yet."
"I live to surprise people," Harry replied and tried to make light of the whole thing, but his smile faded quickly.
This was just so insane: he was filled with desire for a boy with whom he shared a mutual dislike and he could do nothing about it.
"What are we going to do?" he asked a little desperately; for the first time he was truly afraid that there was no way out of this situation.
"We have the best minds working on the problem, Harry," Poppy said gently but confidently. "Don't you worry, they will find out what to do."
Harry was not so sure there was a solution, but he looked up at the healer and tried to have faith.
For over twenty four hours there was no choice but to keep Harry strapped to the bed. No matter what the spells on the room, it seemed impossible to find one strong enough to prevent his hyper aware magical senses from seeking out Malfoy if the door was opened. With it closed he could maintain control, but the moment someone had to enter of leave he went berserk even though the spells over the door automatically strengthened when it was used. On one occasion he almost broke the restraints.
One thing Harry had discovered throughout his lucid times was that being unable to move was very boring. Only Poppy and Dumbledore had entered the room for fear of doing further damaged to Harry's magical control and although the headmaster had sat and talked for several hours and Poppy checked on him regularly to make sure he didn't need anything, this meant he was mostly alone. The incidents when he lost control took a lot out of him, and he had managed a few hours sleep, but he had far too much on his mind to rest quietly. Harry felt caged on an instinctive and an intellectual level, neither of which was helping him relax at all.
He was lying there, staring at the ceiling when he heard a key in the lock. Instantly he tensed, knowing that even though Poppy had managed to damp down the reaction he had when the door was opened it was still not going to be pleasant. When the healer walked through the door, smiled at him and closed it behind her without him suffering any more than a readily controllable desire to lunge for the opening, he was rather stunned.
"Good evening, Harry," she greeted cheerfully, "how are you feeling?"
For a moment he couldn't help himself; he just stared, at a loss for what to say. At times over the last day and a bit he had been convinced he would never be able to see the outside of a padded cell ever again, and now he suddenly had hope.
"Fine," he said eventually, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. "I felt the pull," he was not about to down play what he was experiencing, "but it was so much better."
"Good," Poppy said smiled again, "I believe you will owe Miss Granger several votes of thanks when we have this all sorted out."
"Hermione figured it out?" Harry asked, although he didn't know why he was surprised; if anyone could sort out this mess it was Hermione.
Poppy walked over and put down the covered tray she was carrying. There were some rather nice food smell coming from underneath the cloth and Harry deduced it must be about supper time; it was difficult to keep track of the hours ticking by in his little room. He was not particularly hungry and hadn't been since he woke up, but Poppy had explained this was because his body was trying to move into an alternative metabolic state for mating, and it was best to keep a routine to try and stabilise the effects.
"Miss Granger has a remarkable mind," the healer explained pleasantly. "She suggested the solution this morning, but we chose not to reveal it to you until we were sure it would work. She noted that what was needed were two levels of wards in an, I believe the term she used was 'airlock', arrangement. It took some hours to convince the castle to place this room inside another so we were able to achieve this aim, but I am pleased to say it appears to be a complete success."
Much to Harry's growing pleasure Poppy did not adjust the bed to bring him into a sitting position as she had done for all other meals where she had spoon fed him; instead she pointed her wand at the nearest restraint and whispered a spell. All at once the straps holding him down released and Harry was free. It was the most wonderful feeling. Even as he watched, the restraints shrank down into the mattress and disappeared from view.
"Now I'm afraid I must place a charm on you to prevent you leaving the bed," Poppy told him seriously, "but it is just a precaution. I have some books and a selection of your school things in the outside room, which I shall bring in for you once you have finished your dinner. Before you know it we shall have this whole business behind us."
Harry could not help but smile at the healer's optimistic pronouncement; he was so happy to be free that he probably would have grinned if she had been reciting a potion's recipe, as for the first time in over a day he sat up under his own steam.
There was still no sign of a solution on the horizon and Harry had been locked up for three and a half days. He was beginning to think there was no way out of this and he was more than a little depressed. Trying to put on a brave face he smiled at Poppy whenever she came in and tried to sound confident during his nightly talks with Dumbledore, but it seemed almost hopeless. Over the last day he had noticed that when the door opened the desire to escape was becoming stronger again; no where near as bad as it had been before the double wards, but never-the-less uncomfortable.
Good sense told him that he should tell Poppy exactly what he was feeling, but the memory of the restraints was too fresh and he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He did not want to find himself flat on his back tied to the bed again, and he told himself he'd tell her if it became too bad, but for now he could live with it.
The news about Malfoy had been sparse, but it seemed he was in nowhere near the same state as Harry. The part-Veela was locked in so he couldn't do anything stupid, but with Harry behind very strong wards there had been no need to restrain Malfoy with anything like the charm which prevented Harry from moving from his bed. In one way Harry was glad that he had not caused Malfoy as much grief as he had caused himself, but another, rather petty part resented that his object of desire seemed to be finding this easier than he was.
To his chagrin, Harry found himself dwelling more and more on Malfoy, even though he was trying to occupy himself with reading and homework. It was quite unsettling to suddenly snap out of a daydream and not realise when he had started or for how long he had been drifting.
He was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his transfiguration text book in his lap when he felt the first stirrings of something. Not sure why he was doing it, Harry looked up towards the door and frowned. It was a very odd sensation, knowing that he was aware of something, but not knowing what that something was, and for a few moments he sat very still trying to figure out what was going on.
Very slowly his frown began to deepen and he felt the beginnings of anger stirring in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea why he was angry, but he could feel the emotion twisting through his body, running up his spine and curling into his brain, leaving tendrils through every nerve.
There was a tearing noise and he looked down to find that the page he had been reading was now scrunched up in his fist. His knuckles were white and almost against his will he found himself moving. It took only a small shift for him to reach what felt like a padded wall, which was what his mind made of the charm to keep him on the bed. Unable to control his reaction he growled low in his throat and his wing nubs shifted under his pyjama shirt.
For a moment he managed to reign in his instincts; shutting his eyes tightly he demanded that his mind and body obey him, but it was unsustainable. Within seconds he pushed against the invisible barrier and when it did not give he snarled and his wings flared out of his back, shredding his top in the process. There was very little first hand knowledge about Seraphim magic; most of the research was speculation and hearsay, and the charm on him and the bed was no match for the reality. As his wings sliced through the air they went straight through the spell and it collapsed with a loud pop.
Harry was moving towards the door before he thought about it and he pressed up against it, listening, even though it was highly unlikely that he would hear anything through two walls and such strong wards. Even though he had freed himself from the bed the anger did not dissipate, in fact it was still building. Something was going on outside of his prison and the Seraphim part of him was very interested in it.
Bringing back both arms in a sweeping gesture he brought them to bear on the door with a tremendous thud. The oak shook at the impact, but it did not give. Suddenly Harry felt his anger spike and from annoyed he went to completely furious in a heartbeat. In a moment he knew why; he was being challenged; someone was trying to take his mate. He had never felt such fury, not even when he had killed Voldemort and Harry stepped back from the door, completely intent on his next course of action.
He flared his wings, curled them round so the tips were facing the door and blasted it with barely controlled power. Lighting-like energy erupted from his wings and the door exploded outwards as if it was made of glass. Stopping and trying to calm down were not concepts that even remotely entered his head and he charged through the smouldering remains of the wood into the outer room. The second door faired even worse when he breached the first wards and the pull of his mate intensified. It was like pushing through tissue paper as he treated the obstacle and the powerful magic on it almost as if it wasn't there.
As he burst into the hospital wing someone screamed and he scanned the room in one glance. There was nothing of importance here; only a terrified third year in one of the beds at the far end. Now he was through the second set of wards the call from Malfoy's magic hit him full force. The painful arousal and desperate need combined with his fury and he just had to let some of it out; he put his head back and roared, his voice being deepened and amplified by the power running through his body.
Harry did not even consider where he was going he just let his instincts take him. When he reached the locked wooden door, behind which he could feel Malfoy's magic calling to him, it was almost as if he could see through it. Magic was communicating at a basic level and telling him things he would otherwise never have known: there were three people beyond the door; Malfoy; Poppy; and someone he did not recognise. There was something wrong with his mate and the other two had their wands pointed at the door.
Almost insultingly easily he kicked just below the lock and the barrier between him and those inside slammed open. Two stupefy hexes came at him simultaneously, but they bounced off his wings harmlessly and then he was into the room. Malfoy was bent double on the bed, heaving the contents of his stomach into a basin; Poppy backed into the nearest corner; and a strange man stared at him in terrified wonder from where he seemed to be guarding an array of bottles.
There was only one reason he was here and Harry did not hesitate; he jumped past the stranger onto the bed, turned in one swift movement and crouched down behind the suffering Slytherin, placing one hand gently on his mate's back and bringing his wings round as a shield. Malfoy's response was to retch violently and expel more of whatever had so affected him into the basin. Harry growled at the other man in the room, connecting him to the foul smelling liquid Malfoy was heaving into the bowl, but the sheer bliss of the simple contact with his mate prevented him from moving.
Apparently having thrown up everything from his system Malfoy leaned into Harry and rested his head on the Seraphim's leg. The part-Veela appeared dazed and tired from whatever he had just experienced, but almost straight away Harry felt a hand curling round his thigh possessively. He desperately wanted to respond, but he could not take his eyes off the two sources of danger in the room. When the strange man lifted his wand slightly, Harry snarled at him and angled his wing tips at the wizard.
"Mr Philtrum," Poppy said very firmly, "lower your wand."
The healer had her wand down by her side and, looking Harry directly in the eye, she stood away from the wall and took a step towards the door.
"What are you doing?" Philtrum asked in a very bewildered manner.
"Leaving," Poppy replied as if it was what she had intended all along.
Philtrum looked at her as if she was mad.
"You cannot be serious," the wizard said pointedly. "If we leave they will ... will ..."
If Harry hadn't been so wound up he might have found Philtrum's blustering funny.
"I am quite aware of what will occur if we leave, Mr Philtrum," Poppy said in a tone which begged no argument. "The Ministry's assistance in this matter has been helpful," even in his current state Harry recognised that the healer actually thought completely the opposite, "however, it should be plainly obvious that the situation has stepped beyond our control. There is nothing to do except allow these events to run to their natural conclusion."
"I couldn't possibly condone..." the Ministry wizard began and Harry couldn't help himself; he snarled.
"They are both of age, Mr Philtrum," Poppy sounded as if she'd hex the man herself if he didn't do what he was told. "They are far beyond your potions, as Mr Malfoy's reaction made perfectly obvious, and it appears that your attempt to remedy the situation has in fact exacerbated it. You will pick up your concoctions this instant, and you will leave."
Philtrum went pale and did as he was instructed, slowly backing out of the room with his case as Harry growled at him all the way. Poppy looked the Seraphim in the eye as she moved to follow the Ministry wizard; "I am sorry, Gentlemen," she said evenly, "we have failed."
Then she left, closing the door behind her. Harry did not hesitate as something in him knew what to do next and power erupted from his wings, not just the tips, but the whole surface and spread around them like a net. This web of magic began to expand straight away and did not stop until it reached the walls, enclosing them in a cage of power.
He could feel his magic shifting and reaching out to touch the beautiful Slytherin curled around his leg. There was a residue about his mate; something foreign that bore the same aura as the foul liquid in the bowl still on the bed and he banished both with a wave of his hand. The bowl smashed against the wall, the potion it contained fizzling into nothing on the power web, and Malfoy reared up, his back arching as Harry's magic hit him. Harry held him steady in his arms, lowering him to the bed gently.
Bright grey eyes were hidden behind closed lids as Malfoy breathed in gasps, his body still trembling even as he began to relax. Harry watched his lover's face and Malfoy appeared to be somewhere between agony and ecstasy as Harry's magic dispelled the last of whatever Philtrum had tried to pump into the part-Veela. When those eyes opened again they were hungry and fixed directly into Harry's gaze.
Words and real world rationality were gone from his mind and that was the only invitation Harry required. Slowly, almost as if Malfoy might break he leant down and touched his lips to the slight pout of his mate's mouth. It was like closing a circuit as sensation and power flooded through him, dragging him onward relentlessly. When he darted his tongue between his teeth Malfoy's lips were already parting to give him access and a velvet mouth sucked his tongue in as if starving.
His senses exploded with the taste of his mate and Harry drew it in, wanting everything Malfoy had to give. This beautiful creature was his and he belonged to Malfoy in return; nothing else mattered. Fingers wound in his hair, pulling him even closer as he relaxed into the kiss. This was what he wanted, what he needed; it felt so perfect.
Malfoy had one leg raised and the Slytherin rubbed it along Harry's side as he pushed their torsos together. His mind was filled with his lover and Harry was drunk on the experience. The human part of him knew little of sex, but the Seraphim part of his nature was in control now, and instinct was a far better teacher than the logical mind. Harry knew what he was doing was right because of the way Malfoy responded to him, and he wanted to know every reaction there was to see.
He moved on to his lover's neck, kissing, licking and tasting; testing each millimetre of skin for a response. He was not disappointed as the fingers in his hair tightened and Malfoy moaned beneath him, moving into the touch with the most delicious shift of his body. A pulse of arousal moved through Harry's entire body, focusing on his groin and at that moment it was as if he wanted the man beneath him more than anything he had ever desired in his entire life.
Suddenly there was too much cloth between them and he ran one talon-tipped finger down Malfoy's fine cotton pyjama top, shredding the material where his sharp claw touched it, but leaving the pale flesh underneath completely unmarked. Pulling away slightly he looked down, fascinated by every glimpse of his lover that he revealed, returning to the top once he had finished one slit, only to start again with another one.
Over minutes he reverently destroyed the covering on the top of his mate's body, gently running the pads of his other fingers over the skin given up by the material. Malfoy moaned at every touch, muscles rippling under the delicate ministrations. Harry was in heaven.
By the time he was almost finished there was nothing left of Malfoy's top except thin streamers, even along the length of the Slytherin's arms, and with two last quick movements the seams gave way and the whole garment fell to the bed like so much rag.
Now Harry went to work properly: he nuzzled; he kissed; he nibbled; he stroked; he explored everywhere he could reach and he learned as he went. Malfoy lay like a prince, content to be caressed, desired and investigated, moaning his pleasure and gasping his arousal, barely touching Harry as he moved.
Each contact aroused Harry even more and he felt as if his nerves were tracking every sensation at ridiculous levels, but he could not stop. When he had explored neck, chest, biceps, wrists, fingers, hands, torso and nipples he moved on, ever searching. His mind was in a strange state, totally unafraid and yet needing to learn and to understand everything about his mate. He could sense the Veela in Malfoy just as he could sense the human and it was a heady mix.
Without hesitation he moved downwards, shredding Malfoy's pyjama trousers with less patience than he had the top. The material fell away quickly, but just as delicately, revealing, aroused flesh. For a few moments Harry paused over his prize, looking at Malfoy's engorged cock and breathing in the strong scent of sex. He wanted to taste, but part of him knew that once he did he would not stop and he still had learning to do.
With patience built from a desperate need to know every part of his mate he began to explore everything he had revealed except what he really wanted. He touched and massaged, kissed and caressed, moving Malfoy anyway he wanted to reveal more soft flesh. When he ran his tongue over inner thigh Malfoy purred. Then Harry almost lost control and pounced, but the Seraphim instincts were still not satisfied and he was not yet finished.
Gently he rolled Malfoy onto his side, and his lover flopped languidly like a cat that could not be bothered to move from where it was put. It was almost as if Malfoy was a toy that was Harry's to play with, a representation of a humanoid male whose responses were limited to the parameters in which Harry was working.
It took him a long time to cover the whole of Malfoy's back, from the base of his mate's hairline to the base of his spine, but he took just as much care to catalogue every response to his touches. Malfoy had beautiful skin and it deserved to be worshiped. It was as he reached round, firm buttocks that Harry finally paused and pulled back to view the penultimate territory.
Lightly he skimmed his finger nails over one exposed cheek, drawing a sigh and a shudder from his lover and leaving four little pink lines on the pale flesh. It was impossible resist what he did next as he leant forward once more and kissed away the tiny marks. His body was singing to him as he pleasured Malfoy and his mind was humming with every possibility he had found. What he saw in front of him he wanted and he knew it would be his.
Slowly parting the firm cheeks he ran his tongue over the revealed skin. Malfoy began to moan again and the further he ran his tongue down the crack the louder his mate became. When Harry finally teased the tight, resisting orifice Malfoy actually cried out. This was a taste like none other and Harry nuzzled closer to gain as much of it as he could. Tongue darting between eager lips he made Malfoy pant and moan as he tortured that one spot until it gave way under his probing. He wanted his mate so much and by this time Malfoy was writhing in place.
Needing the one thing he had not yet had, Harry released his painfully aroused lover and rolled Malfoy back onto his back. The erection which had so enticed him before called to Harry like a Siren and this time he did not hold back. Fingers once again tangled in his hair as he took Malfoy into his mouth and sucked gently. It took only seconds as the over stimulated Slytherin thrust into his mouth and then exploded with orgasm, releasing salty liquid in Harry's throat.
He felt his own body shaking as Malfoy shuddered beneath him, but he was not granted his own release as magic swept through him in a wave causing a reflection of orgasm, but not the real thing. When he finally lifted his head he met Malfoy's grey eyes and he knew exactly what was going to happen next. Now it was Malfoy's turn to explore and Harry found himself pushed firmly onto his back as his mate looked him over.
Under that gaze it was as if he had no control over his own body, and he submitted just as Malfoy had submitted; open to whatever his mate wanted of him. Time took on a surreal quality as sensations replaced seconds, and he was only drawn from this partial stupor once, when Malfoy chose to rip his pyjama trousers in two rather than remove them in the more delicate fashion he had used with the top. It seemed that Veela was less patient than Seraphim.
It was exquisite torture as his already aroused body was taken to a level he had never known existed. His limbs moved to where they were put and he lay there, completely unresisting to whatever his lover wanted. One touch melted into the next and he moaned his arousal loudly, wanting everything he was being given. He sprawled on the bed as Malfoy played with him and made him sing a song of passion.
His mate did not turn him over, but Malfoy did spread his legs until the Slytherin was resting between them. As much as he had wanted to know, he wanted to be known and he had no control of his body. As his mate gently massaged around and behind his balls Harry could no more resist than he could stop the moans of pleasure coming from his mouth. The touch as fingers moved further back was strange, but it melted his bones and made his groin pulse hotly. Magic burned through his nerves and called to the power in his lover.
"Open your eyes," the instruction came in a hissed whisper and Harry obeyed without thought, to be caught by the piercing grey of his mate's gaze.
Malfoy, while titillating Harry with one hand was slowly sucking one finger of his right hand. The Slytherin smiled as he pulled the digit free of his mouth and lowered that hand to join his other.
"I want you to come for me," Malfoy whispered to him so seductively that Harry almost did without any further stimulation, "come for me now."
The slick wet finger found his entrance in the same moments, and relaxed slightly by the teasing, his muscles gave little resistance as the digit was pushed inside. When Malfoy found a spot inside that Harry had never dreamed about, let alone discovered himself, Harry cried out and released. His magic leapt at the same time and the orgasm seemed to go on forever.
What he had not realised would be true, but became very apparent as he came down from the stimulated high, was that although he had come, he was still hard. He was covered in his own semen and yet his body wanted more. This was not over yet and although the human part of his mind was surprised, the Seraphim part was watching Malfoy hungrily.
The Slytherin was still leaning between his legs, but under Harry's watchful gaze, Malfoy began to move. He reached out and calmly covered his fingers in the evidence of Harry's orgasm. Then Malfoy sat back and languidly spread his legs. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he realised what his mate was about to do. The pulse of arousal was so great as Malfoy slowly reached down and spread himself for Harry to see, that Harry felt like he might explode there and then.
No words were spoken this time as Malfoy's nimble fingers worked at his own body rather than Harry's, but the atmosphere between them both was electric. Malfoy must have been relatively relaxed from Harry's earlier ministrations because it was not long before the Slytherin was using two fingers to open himself, and moaning with every thrust.
This was for him, Harry knew it with every fibre of his being, and finally he could not take it anymore. His instincts demanded that he take his mate and claim him as his own; it was what he had to do. Moving from where he was sitting he came to a stop between Malfoy's spread thighs and the Slytherin smiled at him slightly before removing his fingers and reclining onto the bed. Legs decadently lifted, running up his sides until Malfoy's ankles were sitting on his shoulders, and his mate gave him a look as if to say "well what are you waiting for?".
Harry had no practical experience, and only a little theoretical knowledge, but he did not need an instruction sheet to know what he was supposed to do. Following Malfoy's lead he lined himself up and then slowly pushed at his mate's entrance. Already loosened muscle gave after only a little pressure and Harry found himself sliding into his lover. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.
His body wanted this and sang with pleasure and his magic wanted this, reaching out to touch Malfoy's magical core through the physical connection they had just made. It was a perfect moment.
Then Malfoy moved his hips and thrust up at Harry, causing him to slam all the way home. For a moment he felt his eyes trying to roll back into his head as the sensation overloaded his senses. Oh he wanted more and he had to move. Pulling back he soon found Malfoy urging him back in and when he changed his angle slightly and thrust hard it was his mate's turn to throw his head back and moan. Somewhere in Harry's hormone soaked brain he realised that he must have hit the spot Malfoy had so gainfully employed on him earlier. Wanting his mate to know the same pleasure he had and more, he set about hitting that spot every time.
Harry's body was so sensitive even after one orgasm already that he knew he could not last long, but he was determined to see Malfoy's completion before his own. Pushing himself into his lover with even strokes, Harry reached forward and took hold of Malfoy's straining erection. The answering gasp of arousal was enough to tell Harry he had done the right thing.
It only took a few more thrusts and the added stimulation of Harry fisting his cock for Malfoy to come with a loud exclamation. The muscle spasms all over his mate's body and the clenching of the Slytherin's arse removed all control Harry had left and he shuddered into Malfoy with some very clear vocalisations. It was all he could do to pull out and collapse on the bed before his limbs gave out entirely. Two orgasms in such short a time was a little much even for a Seraphim.
He lay in a tangle of limbs with Malfoy, breathing hard and enjoying the afterglow for a good few minutes before he realised that his peculiar metabolism was not yet finished with him. Malfoy had told him Veela mating could take four days, but he had no idea how long Seraphim took. It seemed his body was very much still interested and he knew somewhere inside that the sex was working up to something. Even as he felt Malfoy's clever fingers massaging the base of his spine, slowly working lower, he knew that turnabout was fair play and that there would probably be a lot more playing before they were finished.
What they were working to he did not know, but he was too caught up in the act and the need, to really care. This was what he was made for, this was his birthright.
End of Chapter 6
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