Our steps are slow and calculated, I can feel his thoughts as if they are tangible entities, they smother me. I know that he wishes to never hurt me as he did before and is fighting his conscious because he is more deadly afraid of hurting me so cruelly again.

I love the feelings that course through me, like acid and vinegar, they eat away at my insides. I love being needed, I love being owned, but unlike with Voldemort or father, Harry needs me for himself and only himself not to fulfill some sadistic plan of world domination.

We’ve stopped outside the dining hall, in front of the towering doors, I can see his friends approaching us, coming from the Gryfindor wing. Harry was saying something, I did not hear, I can see the anger in his eyes and almost feel his arm tensing. I open myself to him in ever way, he needs to learn, to relearn, not to hold back. At least for me but perhaps it would be well of him to learn to release his anger towards others as well.

His eyes narrow and an almost guttural sound issues from his throat. He grabs my arm and squeezes it painful, his hand goes back and I prepare myself mentally for the coming blow. It stings, his hand across my cheek, with demon like furry, it stings. He didn’t hold back, I feel my head snap back and if his hand had not held my arm I would have fallen to the floor.

His friends gasp, along with those in the dining hall, they saw everything. They should be shocked, if I was in there position I would have been shocked too, Harry Potter, never acts as such. Harry Potter is kind and good, and he should be for he’s the savior of the wizarding world but neither are they infused with cursed veela DNA, no, they know nothing.

“Listen to me when I am talking to you, understand?” he hisses, regardless it carries throughout the silent hall. Bracing my feet I gather my strength enough to support my own body, “Yes, Master.” I murmur. He smiles and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me, “Good.” He mutters into my hair, kissing the top of my head gently, like a parent would a child.

His friends run over, they stand beside my mate, eyes still wide with shock. “Harry, you just, what happened?” Granger said, reaching to put a hand on Harry’s arm. I felt myself bristle and a growl escaped my throat, “Don’t touch him,” I snarled, watching her hand pull back as if she had been bitten. Harry’s grip around me tightened painfully and I cried out softly, a whimper escaping my lips. “Don’t, Draco. They, are, my friends. You will respect their privileges as such.” Harry said, watching my eyes as he slowly loosened his painful grip on me. “Yes,” I gasped, stepping back as his arms released me.

His friends. I turned to face them, watching them critically. Weasley tensed like a wary cat and Granger looked curious as usual. I fought down my customary snide remarks and bit my tongue to fight down the trademark smirk. Instead, I took a deep breath and slowly, very stiffly, bowed to them. As a finished I glanced over towards my mate, a wave of relief washed over me as I saw the pleased look on his face. A glance back at my mates friends showed Weasley looking like a fish out of water and even Granger looked a little shocked.
Harry grabbed my hand and proceeded to lead me the Gryfindor table. He sat down and I followed his example, Granger and Weasley not far behind. The entire hall filled with voices, gossiping about what they had just seen but it doesn’t matter. As long as I have Harry everything is perfect, and I could die happy if I didn’t know that it would hurt him so much. I slowly pick through my food, occasionally serving various items to Harry. His friends watch him.

“How do you know what he wants?” Hermione asks, “You may be his mate but, you hardly know him, how do you know exactly what foods he wants?” I look up at her and smile, or rather smirk, I couldn’t keep it down, Harry glanced over and a small smile played his lips. It’s rather interesting, we both hold the grandest secret in the world, each other.

He nods slightly and I turned back towards Gran-no-Hermione. “Magic?” I murmur sarcastically. Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione blinked furiously. I laughed lightly, “No, sorry…I know because I watch him. When he wants something he looks at it briefly, all you have to do is watch him.”

They asked no more questions which was a very good thing considering I felt completely drained of courtesy. Breakfast ended quite without incident although after the little show before it left little that could compete. As we left for our first classes I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Dumbledore, winking at us, in that horrible humorous way that makes you think he knows your every secret and finds it a grand joke. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true.

First class of the day, double potions. I haven’t seen Snape since the night before. I feel a slight wince of guilt in the knowledge that he probably hates me now, as he hates Harry. He used to be one of the only ones who truly knew what it was like to be surrounded by death eaters, death and plans of conquest. Guilt, it’s pain is refreshing.

As we entered the class room, he burst through the door, slamming it behind him in his usual melodrama. By now most have gotten used to it. Neville still flinched but than again he flinches at almost everything. Snape started giving out instructions immediately for some powerful difficult potion in that impossible fashion of his, always saying the instructions much too rapidly for proper notes. He then sorted us into partners, usually the most incompatible pairs he can manage. He is completely bent on destroying all the slackers which for him is eighty percent of the class, including Slytherins.

Snape paused for a moment when he came to my name, his eyes locking onto Harry. Harry met his gaze with complete malice. Grimacing, Snape continued to read off pairs. Harry and I together, probably an intervention of Dumbledore’s, I wouldn’t doubt. Harry began to sort our ingredients and randomly hand them to me, I suppose not randomly. It took me a second to realize that he was handing me half the ingredients to mix into the pot already sorted into the time deviations from each other that they needed to be mixed. Harry is not as incompetent as I previously thought but perhaps his partners were, of course guilt again. Before I was the main partner of Harry and I spent half the time trying to get him to make a mistake. My fault.

I slowly methodically began preparing the ingredients, everything went perfectly for a while but I knew it couldn’t last. Harry was anxious and irritated at my lack of speed although it’s wasn’t required. I finished preparations and found Harry waiting for the last ingredient, mine. “Draco,” He murmured, “give me your hand.” I did as he said and slowly gave to him my left hand nearest to him, fully aware to the fact that it would’ve been very stupid to give him my dominate hand.

He laid my hand palm down upon the table, turning around to pick up his scalpel which he had used to dissect the essential ingredient from the otherwise useless Goreget eye. He carefully wiped it upon his robe and I, attempted to suppressed my fear. It is then that Snape takes that precise moment to step up alongside our caldron, to check our results.

Harry looked up at him and smiled slightly, “May we go to the hospital wing, Professor Snape?” Snape glared at us for a moment, “I do not see anything the matter that would require aid, Mr. Potter.” Harry’s smile disappeared and was replaced with a sickly frown, “Not yet.” He looked over at me and at the same instant imbedded the scalpel into my hand. I suppressed the scream rising in my throat, swallowed the groan of agony. A whimper did manage to creep out along with a solitary tear sliding down my cheek as Harry ripped the scalpel out again. He clutched my hand with his own, never fully taking his eyes off Snape, who’s face was contorted into a mask of shock and rage.

I knew that Harry was provoking him, I knew he couldn’t win, at least not in Harry’s eyes. If Harry thought anything like my father or most of the veela’s I had met, only death would satisfy him, or sometimes, if the veela in question is in a good mood, exstreme physical mutilation or permanently debilitating punishments. Veela’s aren’t nice creatures.

“Please allow us to go to the hospital wing.” I breathed through gritted teeth, “You see I’m in a lot of pain and bleeding all over your floor.” Snape blinked suddenly, as if remembering where he was, he couldn’t seem to gain his tongue but instead gave a stern nod. And we left.