His Veela Heritage by RiverWriter

chapter 18

She woke up slowly, the feeling that something was wrong niggling at the edge of her consciousness but she resisted opening her eyes, stretched her deliciously tender muscles and luxuriated in her memories. That’s when she realized what the problem was, she was alone in bed. Draco was standing across the room at the window instead of lying next to her, where he belonged. She was certain that was why she'd awoken so early, if the dim light was any indication, after what had been a very late night.

If he knew that she was awake he didn't give any indication, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he could sense that she was. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion that there was very little he wouldn't be able to sense about her from now on. What had happened between them the night before was not only incandescently beautiful, but had bonded them on a level that was beyond explanation, he was part of her now, and she him. They would never truly be separated again.

He was wearing only a pair of black pajama bottoms that he must have transfigured, because neither of them had any extra clothes in the castle. She wondered absently why he'd bothered, she knew every inch of him now. She winced at the sight of the angry, red scratch marks that crossed his shoulders and back, but couldn't regret putting them there, especially as she remembered the look on his face as she grasped at him in the throes of passion. Nothing could make her want to take that back.

However, she could see his face reflected in the window. He was frowning, the expression was incompatible with the bliss she felt and that was simply not to be borne. So, she dragged herself out of bed, pulling the top sheet along with her and wrapping it around herself. She made her way over to him, very careful to keep from tripping over the oversized sheet which trailed behind her like a train.

She placed one hand softly on his shoulder when she reached him, “would you like me to heal these?”

He turned, his mouth forming a slow, lazy smirk as he drunk in her form hungrily.

“No, I like feeling them,” he shrugged his shoulders demonstratively, “remembering how completely wild you went for me,” he eyed her appearance, “nice hair.”

She didn't need a mirror to know her curls were a disaster and actually licked her lips as her own memories washed over her, “somebody likes to run his hands through it,” she teased with an irrepressible grin.

His eyes went dark with desire and he reached out to tunnel his fingers into her hair and cup her head possessively with one hand, the other he wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his chest.

“That's right, I did that,” his voice was a low growl in her ear, “and that, and that,” he continued as he trailed his lips over the various lovebites that marked her neck and chest, “and especially this,” he scraped his teeth against the place where he'd sealed their bond with his bite and she moaned.

She hadn't looked in the mirror, but she was certain that no visible mark remained, just as she was certain that they would both, unerringly, always be able to find the spot anyway. Veela magic was subtle but, as she as learning, incredibly powerful. She sighed as he began to kiss her more purposefully.

“Draco-” she wrenched herself away from his lips with difficulty, she certainly didn't want to, but he’d looked so troubled before and she needed to make sure he was okay before they, once again, got carried away, “why are you awake and out of bed?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, her lips automatically curled into a small smile. Her hair may have been a mess, but his was still pink and she made a silent promise to help him wash it out later. He'd been a pretty good sport about the whole thing. He could have pouted about it for the rest of the night, but he hadn't, so he deserved a reward, and a bath with him sounded pretty wonderful anyway.