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2. The Introduction We lay there sweating and panting, wrapped in each other, clothing strewn across the floor. He smelled delicious, he tasted delicious. I leaned forward and kissed him again. I would kiss him a million times if I could. He touches my neck, his thumb caressing the kiss shaped burn mark he had imprinted into my skin. He had claimed me, I’m not sure how but he did. I’m more than half veela, my father was half my mother full and it had passed over to me but hadn’t begun to show until I went through puberty which, unfortunately, a veela’s puberty happens even later in life than normal male teenagers does so I hadn’t even begun until the end of last year my sixth year. If I hadn’t such a reputation as a complete asshole I would have been teased mercilessly. Similar to werewolves in the respect that veela’s choose mates and have only one mate which they stay with for the rest of their lives. The difference being that with werewolves the male is always dominate, with veela, females aren’t always the submissive ones. Unluckily, I began showing signs of developing into a submissive veela, the weaker more docile veela. My father told me, warned me, never to go too near to another veela. For if another, dominate veela, caught my scent and decided to make me their mate I would not be able to resist or deign their sent. Male or female. If a submissive veela is mated by a dominate veela they can still escape and possibly marry a normal human but if they are marked then there is no going escape, then you belong to that other veela. Mated for life A mark, a dominate can only place it once in a lifetime, an acid secreted onto the lips, a kiss placed somewhere, usually in a place where it can be seen by other veela’s, the acid is neutralized by salvia, a lick after the acid is scared into the skin. I was marked, but it shouldn’t have been possible. Harry wasn’t a veela by birth, I knew that. So why did he smell like, taste like, act like, claim me as a veela would? He had changed, he looked like a veela. He was beautiful. His hair now hung long, past his shoulders, softer than the finest silk. Black as midnight and was streaked with silver, the color of pure blood veela hair. His face had thinned out, elegent. His skin was paler, as most veela’s are and his already stunning emerald eyes had narrowed into an beautiful almond shape usually attributed to the god like beauty of the elves who’s true ansestory had died out long ago. His voice had changed too, deep with the essence that reminded you of sweet, rich honey when he spoke to you. He also gain the veela’s inherited grace and fluidity. He was still tall and filled out from hours of quiditch practice uncharacteristic in the small fragile race of the veela, he was a god. How, I ask him, How did this happen? He smiles at me and looks out the window. We have time, he says, so I will tell you, a most wondrous story. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me aline with his body, his mouth touches mine and turns aside. He whispers in my ear, he tells me his story. He tells about the summer, the first week back. I left for walk, he says, to get way from my relatives. I went not far but was abducted by chance, by some wizards running in an illegal black market ring. I remember, he muses, that I was bound, gagged and blindfolded, taken to a place in the city, the slums of the city. Those who abducted him, knew not who I was but that didn’t matter to them. They dealt to muggles in a high profit market for pornography and because they were wizards it mattered not whom they took because magic and potions can make anyone look good for a time. That was what they had planned to do to me but a problem arose. The group had obtained a new potions mixer, he was supposedly good, could have been a master of potions and it was true he was good, very good. The problem arose with his instability mentally. He was supposed to make a simple potion that would give the drinker the appearance of a veela for a number of hours, an illusionary potion, but instead he made another potion, a powerful, complicated, illegal potion. A potion rated in the dark arts, that actually force combines the veela genealogy and DNA into the person, permanent and extremely painful. Most die in the process. They got angry with the potions master and killed him. By that time the potion they had given me was kicking in and they thought because of the potions previous failures that I was going to die so they dumped both me and the dead professor. I wasn’t sure how I did it, he laughed, but somehow I managed to return to private drive and when I arrived I found that the Dursleys had been killed and the Ministry was already waiting for me. He says, I told them that I had just gone out on a walk, which was partially true, and they all said it was a miracle because Voldemort had come that day and killed all the Dursleys and decimated the house. This was somewhat shocking but only to the point if know that my owl and belongs were all right and they were which was a relief, he laughs lightly. Dumbledore arrived shortly after and had me sent by portakey to a muggle orphanage where Dumbledore figured I would be safe. The orphanage had been given another name for which I was to be called and false backrounds but Dumbledore had assured me that it was just temporary, just for the summer. That was all well and good but right away it occurred to me that Dumbledore didn’t know very much about the orphanage. Certainly from the outside it held all appearances of an orphanage and even as you first entered but it was much, much more than an orphanage. Like a normal orphanage you could come in and buy children, for a certain amount of time. The entire facility was an illegal, underage, prostitution house but as far as that goes it was a good one, he says jokingly, because while you are there they teach you, so that when you are legally old enough you can leave and make a living but, it had a price to pay, his tone was grave, He said that, At that point the potion had most likely fully fussed with my DNA, become a part of me and that by that time the pain had begun to fade. He said, In the following weeks I became aware that my body was changing, to become as it is now and that I learned more than I ever thought possible, more than I never wanted. He says that, They taught me first hand how to pleasure a person, male or female. I learned how to drive a person insane with just the touch of his fingers and how to pleasure a person to an orgasm without ever going below the belt but, that was also with the help of the veela touch. He didn’t know at the time but the veela touch is something also inherited. It is the veela’s greatest weapon because it can bring anyone to their knees, begging. It’s the irresistible draw that makes people throw themselves off buildings to try and get to the veela. In actuality it’s extremely rare in males, usually only females have it, to try and attract anything, friends, enemies, lunch. That Harry was given this gift, through forced veela stimulation, it seemed unreal. He said that, I never went all the way, never had sex. Anything I learned below the belt was done by observataion. They let you watch them? I asked. You’d be surprised, he said, what get some people off. He said that, Within a month I became good enough to market although I refused to do anything below the belt or be touched in that way. The owner was skeptical but allowed me one customer, one of the ones know as one timers, people that probably wouldn’t come back. I remember, he says, that it was a young wife, stubborn and angry with her husband. At first I was unsure, as was she but…she came back, again and again and she only asked for me. I gained a reputation and a name, he laughs, they called me Green eyes, rather unoriginal but it was considered an honor in that place. I was asked for by that name. I suppose, he mummers, tightening his grip around me slightly, that the only reason I was so popular was because no matter what happened between me and anyone who came to see me, no one ever left feeling guilty, I mean how could they, we never did anything, some I didn’t even have to go below the neck line. The owner didn’t want me to leave, when the car came to take me to Diagon ally, the week before school started, he begged them not to take me, offered them ridiculous amounts of money but I supose it wasn’t even close to the amount I made him. By the last month I was seeing seven to eight people a day at premium rates. Stupid, he says, I shouldn’t be talking about that, too many horrible coincidences on top of another but to be honest it didn’t turn out too bad. How can you say that? I whisper horrified. Easy, he breathes on my ear, I got you. He licks my earlobe and nibbles it gently, obviously enjoying the reaction he gets from me. I remember, he whispers, when I first caught your scent, outside the train station, I knew I had to have you. I do have you, I’ll never let you go. He tracked me down. I wasn’t even aware of him, why should I have been? He was Potter, a normal human. I remember too Harry, I remember how you tricked me into this cabin and locked the door. How you soothed and tamed me like a wild animal. I was frightened then, I remember catching your scent as you locked the door, recognizing it as a dominates, I panicked. I was afraid, everything I knew about dominates, everything I had read, everything bruised and beaten mark left on my mother, had told me that dominates were cruel and cared only for their own pleasure but you were so kind Harry. I won’t let you, I murmur, you marked me and now I’m yours Harry, lover, mate, master. What about, he askes, your father, and your ties to the dark arts? Your friends in slytherin and Snape? I gently rub my cheek against him. It doesn’t matter anymore, I say, I am yours. All my past ties and connections are gone. Your friends are my friends, your loyalties my loyalties. I don’t want my father, I don’t want to remember my loyalties. I have wanted this for a long time. I never wanted to be what my father wanted me to be. Harry you are, in everyway, my master and my god. I worship you, I praise you I openly and completely love you. part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve back |