Deny Thy Father

Chapter 2: Always on my Mind

XoX

Harry Potter sat in the kitchen of the Burrow and chewed his fingernails. He hadn't been allowed to go out with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to fetch Dumbledore - part of the deal he'd made with Dumbledore that enabled him to spend the summer at the Burrow was that he was confined to the house. He couldn't even go outside without an armed escort.

Biting a little too far on one nail he winced as the tangy taste of blood flooded his mouth.

"Harry mate, are you all right?" Ron asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Harry screeched, jumping out from under his friend's hand, "Not you!"

Ron back off, holding his hand away from his body. "Calm down, I promise I won't touch you."

Harry stared, wide-eyed, for a moment before a shudder ran through his body and he collapsed back onto his chair. "Sorry Ron, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Harry!" Hermione called as she ran down the stairs, "Harry, are you alright? I heard you yelling!"

Ron turned to his fiancé and shrugged. "He's just on edge is all, right mate? Nothing's wrong."

No... Harry thought, breath speeding a bit as a now familiar feeling welled-up inside him, something's horribly, terribly wrong. "R-Ron," he managed to gasp out, pupils dilating in fear, "Ron, what did you just say?"

"Err... Nothing's wrong?"

"B-before that!"

"Uh... 'He's just on edge, right mate?' something like that?"

The feeling hit again, this time it had him doubled over in pain and longing and... was there jealousy mixed in there?

"D-Don't."

"Don't what, Harry?" Hermione asked gently, kneeling next to him but refraining from taking his arm.

"D-don't call me th-that."

"Don't call you what?"

"Mate."

XoX

When he concentrated Draco could vaguely hear what his mate heard, feel what his mate felt, and taste what his mate tasted. But, strangely he couldn't see anything - strange because they'd swapped eyes, you'd think it'd be the first sense to come to him.

And he heard another man's voice, drifting slowly through his ears as if carried a long distance by a great wind.

"...mate, are... alright?'

Draco almost shrieked in outrage. Some other man dared to claim what was rightfully his?

He felt a hand lower onto his mate's shoulder and immediately flew into a blinding rage. Someone else was touching his mate!

Wings sprouted from his back, tearing his shirt to pieces and he felt the skin around his fingernails prickle as they extended and turned into large talons.

The voice drifted to his ears again, and again it said something he didn't want to hear.

"... is... mate?"

His shrieking rose in volume as he voiced his protest. Mine, he thought fiercely, my own.

A small murmuring reached his ears, another voice. But this one... he knew it must be his mate. The voice was music to his ears, soft and caressing with a heady rough edge and... pain. His mate's voice was filled with pain.

It took him a moment to realize just who was causing the pain. It wasn't the mysterious other who had dared to claim his mate, no, it was he himself who caused his mate's suffering.

My only, he thought desperately as he felt the pain lessen, I'm so sorry. So sorry. His wings and talons collapsed into themselves, leaving him teary-eyed and dressed in only pants, as his anger withdrew.

XoX

Once the pain stopped Harry was able to tell Hermione and Ron what he remembered.

"There was a voice I think, it was telling me to get you to stop calling me that - that it wasn't right," he paused for a moment and thought, "and then there was pain. A lot of pain... but it was... it wasn't a physical pain, you know? More like someone was stomping on my soul."

Hermione nodded her head and tried to make sense of the new information.

"So," she said, "it was like someone was attached to you? Do you think it might be You-Know-Who?"

Rolling his eyes at the use of Voldemort's safer nickname Harry shook his head. "It wasn't that kind of pain. It was... it was longing. An ache to be somewhere else that was so fierce it overtook you in waves, and... and jealousy too. A sad jealousy."

Hermione blinked and was opening her mouth to say something else when the fireplace coughed forth a cloud of smoke and dust as the Weasleys and Dumbledore flooed in.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, walking over to him and looking him straight in his multi-colored eyes, "we need to talk."

No shit, Sherlock.

He didn't say it, but boy was it ever running through his mind.

XoX

Narcissa found Draco lying, crumpled on his bedroom floor. His shirt was torn and his hands were bloody, leading her to think he'd somehow managed to transform - at least partially - into his Veela form.

"Draco?" she murmured softly, running a comforting hand up and down his back, "Draco, mon coeur, are you alright?"

Draco slowly raised his head, eyes puffy and red from crying. "Mother," he said mournfully, "mother I hurt him."

Narcissa gasped. Him? Draco's mate was a male? She looked into her son's eyes, seeing only desperation and love. He was hurting - badly - and pointing out this new revelation would mean nothing to him until his heart had stopped breaking.

"Draco darling, he'll forgive you. He'll love you."

Shaking his head vehemently Draco began to whimper. "No... no he won't... we'll hate me."

Narcissa sighed, remembering how she had treated Rowan at first, arrogant Slytherin that she was, insulting him as he made his advances on her and showered her with presents and lover letters. Eventually, she'd agreed to go out with him - once - as long as he'd leave her alone afterwards.

It'd been the most wonderful day of her life and, after one date, she'd fallen head-over-heels in love.

"Draco, Draco listen to me. I can't promise it will be easy, and I can't promise there'll be no bumps in your relationship, but I can promise this. Draco, he WILL love you. You're a wonderful boy; beautiful, smart, rich, and talented. Who wouldn't fall for you?"

Draco looked up at his mother and smiled weakly, "I am beautiful, smart, rich, and talented aren't I?"

Narcissa chuckled, cradling her recovering son against her. "Yes Draco, you are. I'm sure he'll love you, whoever he is."

"I... Mum... I don't know," Draco said, thinking hard, "I feel like I know him... that I know him better then anyone else in the world. I... I can feel his soul. But... But if I try picture his face... his body... I can't. The only thing I really know about him is that he's got to most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen."

Narcissa smiled and rubbed her thumb along Draco's left cheek. "Honey," she said softly, "he only has one green eye now. He's also got one of the most beautiful liquid silver eyes I've ever seen."

Draco, remembering his new eye smiled at his mother again. "Yeah," he said, "he has my eye now too, doesn't he?"

"Draco..." Narcissa paused, did she really want to risk upsetting him now that he'd relaxed again? Looking her son in the eyes she decided that yes, she did. "Draco how do you know it's a boy?"

Draco flushed. "I... I don't know really, I can just feel him and he feels... He feels masculine but kind. He's perfect."

The last sentiment was spoken with such conviction, such utter faith that Narcissa's eyes misted over.

Draco reminded her so much of his father.