To Suffer a Veela

Draco Malfoy was not patient. He’d never denied himself anything for this long before and he didn’t intend to continue any longer. He’d waited for years to have his mate with him and school rules be damned, he was going to have her now. They were of age and besides, the law was on his side. He smirked as he pushed his girl down and held her legs open for him to see. He could feel her emotions and he knew she was scared. He cared, he really did, and once they were mated and she was submissive to him, he would take all the time in the world to soothe her fears. Right now, however, he wanted her marked and claimed and that was only going to happen if he took control. Besides, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t make her want him.

He concentrated, pushing the veela pheromones from his pores, and as he watched, her center grew wet and glistened just for him. She was so beautiful. She was absolutely perfect. He couldn’t wait until all of this was behind them and he could spend hours alone with her. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forwards and swept his tongue over her sex, loving the exhilarating feeling of having her taste on his tongue. She gasped and stiffened slightly, and he smirked. Since the first part of her marking, making her want him would be terribly easy. He knew that he and his mate were supposed to have natural sexual chemistry, but the fact that she was now no longer immune to his pheromones made him feel exceedingly triumphant. The first mark had gone very well in his opinion; despite her instinct to run. His mate was intelligent and naturally independent. He was confident however, that he could curb those instincts with sexual dominance. She now needed him as much as he needed her.

He sucked on her core like a dieing man slurping at water and was rewarded with her breathy moans. He’d fantasized about how she would taste since his fourth year and she surpassed every expectation. It was sweet and tangy, not quite unlike honey. The smell was like ambrosia and he felt himself harden like marble. He couldn’t wait for the next part of their mating. She would truly be his, then. No more waiting. No more watching Ron Weasley and other miscreants pant after her like dogs. His jealousy got the better of him when he thought of all those other males salivating after his mate and he gripped her legs a little harder than necessary. His mate squeaked in protest but didn’t move from him. He looked up at her from between her legs and her soft, brown eyes were focused on him in earnest. He grinned and moved up her body. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest and he wished that for once it was only out of lust instead of lust combined with fear.

He’d known she was his mate since their fourth year. He’d been fascinated with her since their first year, but it took seeing her beautiful transformation and watching her descend the stairs on the arm of another man for him to recognize the intense feeling of possessiveness as the call of a mate. It wasn’t until this past May that he’d come into his full inheritance and felt that desire for her grown into a full blown need. The pining for her had been awful, but the horrid pain he’d felt when Weasley had put his arms around her or put his hand on her waist had been sheer torture. He would rather suffer through the cruciatus curse a thousand times than go through the feeling of her being touched by another man.

He’d attempted to use his pheromones on her numerous times since finding out she was his. His father had told him that his mate would be the only woman who wouldn’t respond to them, but he had tried anyway. He’d become so frustrated at her lack of response in Madame Malkin’s at the start of their sixth year that he’d been forced to resort to insults before he cried at the disgust radiating off of her. His mother had told him to be patient and that eventually Hermione would come around as she had for his father, but Draco had felt that was impossible. He’d worked himself into almost a mating frenzy over the summer and to be honest, the little know-it-all was lucky he hadn’t taken her on the train. The second he had spotted her in that innocently alluring dress he’d wanted to grab her, throw her over his shoulder and take them both back to Malfoy Manor to hide her from every male gaze that raked over those luscious curves that belonged to him.

He currently had his hands full of her curved flesh and he aligned his body so that it lay on top of hers. He wanted to make as much contact with her skin as possible. He needed it. When he felt their torsos align he let out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. It felt so good having her against him. As good as she felt, however, he couldn’t let their first time together be on a worn out sofa in the middle of a school common room.

Pulling himself into a standing position, he growled, “Get up.” It was a direct order, not to be disobeyed and he watched as she struggled through the haze of her mind and did as he commanded. He smirked and thought to himself that Potter and Weasley would be speechless if they could see her now. Then again, in her current naked state he would kill either of them if they dared to look. She was absolutely glorious in her nudity. She had fat deposits in all the right places and he looked forward to sinking his teeth into those spots to mark her.

Hermione was standing now and he could feel her embarrassment at being naked in front of him. He could also feel the fear that came with her vulnerability. No one had seen her like this other than the weaslette, he was certain. Well, as far as he was concerned, that was one person too many. Reaching out, he grabbed her arm and drug her towards the window ledge. He summoned his cloak and wrapped it around her shaking form. Soon enough she would trust him.

“Wha- What are you doing?” she squeaked as he pulled her to his chest and summoned his broom.

“I’m taking you some place better than here,” he answered and felt a tiny thrill move up his spine as she moved herself as close to him as possible when he settled them on the broom.

“We need to be at the welcome feast,” she said, but he could tell that she had about as much desire to be at the welcome feast as he did. He ventured one hand down towards the place of her femininity and plunged one long finger into the sopping wet depths of her channel. When he felt the heat of her tight channel suck at the digit, he shuddered and put his head in her neck.

“We need to be someplace private,” he whispered into her ear as he kicked off. He knew she hated flying, but he couldn’t deny that having her squeeze his upper body in terror felt so very, very good. The sun had already set and the moon hung full and heavy in the sky. He took a deep breath of the night air and reveled in the combined thrill of flying through the air and having his mate clutched to him. He loved flying and hoped he could convince her to do more of it with him.

He found the spot he was looking for in the Forbidden Forest and with a sharp turn, he began their descent, smirking at her high pitched gasp as she scrambled to hold more of him to her. One day she would do this because she wanted him and not because of her silly fear of flying on broomsticks. Settling them down in a grove of willow trees around a pool, he transfigured a rock into a bed. He looked back at his mate and tugged her hands so that they were at the button fly of his trousers, the last piece of clothing he had on.

“Take them off,” he growled. He watched as her delicate hands deftly released him from the confines of the black material and the pants pooled at his hips. He stepped forwards and she backed up. Looking down at her he said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”


“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, as if surprised by the revelation. He smirked as he watched her stare at his erection as she unwittingly swallowed. “I don’t think that’s going to fit. In fact, I’m sure it won’t.”

He grinned at her and she stepped backwards, making her legs come into contact with the edge of his bed. She stood stiffly upright as he advanced on her. “We were made to fit together. Your body was meant to accommodate mine.”

She shook her head firmly. “There’s no room.” She leaned backwards on the bed and pulled herself up and away from him.

He laughed, genuinely laughed and it felt good. “Oh, there will be room. When it comes to you, there will always be room for me and only me.” He crawled onto the bed after her. The covers were silk and so she couldn’t find much purchase as she tried to shimmy away from him. “Don’t try to run. It will only make this worse.”

She did something then that broke his heart. As he released more pheromones on her, she inhaled deeply, several times, and then she began to cry. “You’re going to hurt me,” she cried into his shoulder, “and the sick part of it all is that I want you to do it. Because of that stupid, bloody mark and my stupid, bloody hormones, I don’t get a say in it. I WANT you to tear me apart!”

Draco pulled her to him and sat her on his lap, facing him, her legs hanging about his waist. She leaned in towards the comfort he provided and clutched his shoulders as she buried her face in his neck. He rocked her gently until she settled against him. His erection never once lost interest in the female in front of him and part of him felt guilty about what he was about to do. The Slytherin in him, however, applauded the gentle soothing strokes he drew through her hair and the gentle kisses he rained on her face. They would distract her long enough for him to draw the upper hand.

“Don’t worry love,” he whispered as he stroked her back with his left hand while his right clenched and unclenched, preparing for what was to come. She had stopped sobbing, but tears still leaked from the corners of her eyes. He took a deep breath and his muscles twitched.

In no time at all, he flipped her on her back, his manhood poised at her entrance, one hand holding her wrists above her head as his right hand gripped her hip, holding it down.

“I’ll tear you apart, but I promise I’ll put you back together again,” he said with an evil smile. Just as his manhood ripped through her maidenhead, the claws that had come through on his right hand pierced the skin at her hip. As the magic burned into her skin, she screamed his name.




Thank you for reviewing! This chapter is dedicated to lala, who has been a faithful reader and an inspiration. G.C.