Genre: Drama, Romance Rating: NC-17 Word count: 206k Tags: War time, Horcrux hunting, creature!fic, Christmas!fic, Hug/Comfort, Veela!Draco
Summary:
Instincts were the bane of all sane men's existence, Draco knew that better than anyone. Just look at the mess his had gotten him into.
Quotes:
He didn't know what to do. Veelas only had one shot at a mate and once the mate had been found no other would suffice as a partner. Without his mate he'd slowly lose his magical strength until he was essentially a feathered squib and worse, if Harry died, he'd follow soon after no matter that he didn't feel anything beyond the mating pull now, it would turn him mad and suicidal if his mate died. And Harry would die here if he didn't do something. Already the swelling was going down and soon he'd be recognizable and the Dark Lord would be called and then Harry would die. He could feel the feathers on the top of his head he usually concealed with his hair raising up like a crest in outrage at that thought. No. He couldn't let Harry die, his veela instincts refused to countenance it and so did his self-preservation instinct. There was only one thing for it; he'd have to get Harry out of here. He shucked his jacket, standing in the black, long-sleeved, backless turtleneck and drawing his wand as he dropped his disillusionment charm.
"What the fuck!" Ron stumbled backwards at the sight of the black clad blond. "Where did the ferret come from?" Ron's eyes narrowed and he looked at Draco more intently. "And what's wrong with his hair?"
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