Chapter Twenty

Sunday 13th September 1998

Eli

My mate is... gone? No, no, no, my mate, my 'Lexie wouldn't leave me. No, no, no. He'll come back, he has to come back, I'm his mate, his dominant. He has to come back to me. He can't reject me, he... he can't. I'm his mate. He can't reject me.

But I can feel the pain of it ebbing through me. Not like a river because rivers are wet, damp. You fall into a river and it is quiet, calm. This is not any of those things. This is raging and loud and burning. This is fire. This hurts. Mate.

You are yelling out the window. Calling our mate back, but he's not coming back, and I can't figure out why. He's our mate, he's meant to be with us always. But he's flying away, away from his mate, but that makes no sense. It hurts.

You turn and punch a wall, hard. The wall is stone, and your skin immediately splits, blood falling out between the ridges of your skin, tumbling to the floor. Pain echos up your arm, and I feel it, and relish it. This pain isn't as bad.

What do I do, Eli? How can I do this?

Find him.

How? How do I even begin... he doesn't want us, Eli. What happens when we find him and all he does is reject us outright?

No. Find him. Find our mate.

Where do I start?

Flew towards forest. Go there.

You nod, resolute, and I'm glad you're finally listening to me.

You run from the room, almost slamming headfirst into your elf friend and his Veela mate. You growl, reflexively, making the elf whimper.

Don't scare sub.

"Sorry," you say.

"What happened? Where's Draco?" the Veela says, and he sounds worried. Why is he concerned about my mate? My mate, not his, mine to worry about, mine to protect, mine, mine!

"Left, out the window." Immediately, their faces flood with sympathy. I hate it. Pitying me, us, like we're too pathetic to be able to keep our mate. Like there's something wrong with us, or worse, with Draco, 'Lexie. You obviously think so too, as you growl at them, loudly.

The elf whimpers again, leaning against his mate and ducking his head. The Veela glares but says nothing. He knows we are stronger, we could beat him.

"Which direction did he go?" The Veela asks.

"Forest."

Didn't you say the forest was dangerous? There are harmful beasts, could hurt mate?

Fuck. Fuck. We need to find him, now, before he gets hurt.

Then go, quickly!

You rush past the pair, but the Veela grabs your wrist, stopping you. You growl again, even louder than before, louder than I've ever heard you growl, baring your canines, releasing your claws and standing tall over him. Immediately, he lets go, whimpering once and ducking his head in submission. Good. It's time he knows his place.

You give him one last glare, sparing a glance at the elf, who I realise has sunk to his knees behind his mate. Part of me doesn't like that you scared a submissive so much, but the other part thinks it serves him right. He shouldn't have let his mate try to stop us getting to my 'Lexie.

Even as I'm thinking this, you're rushing out of the house common room- houses, what a stupid system- and upstairs.

"Harry?" The voice and scent of your friend with the red hair. The rude, stupid one who called us mate on the train and said we would hurt a submissive - our mate, I realise now, and I hate him even more.

Kill him, quickly, and we can go.

No, no, it's Ron, I can't...

"I was just looking for you, we have a potions essay to-" You cut him off with a growl. "Are you alright?"

Oh, please, just kill him, it would be so much easier.

"Busy. Talk later."

"Hey, I know you're like a werewolf now or whatever, but that's not an excuse to keep avoiding us! I've barely seen you at all this week, and-" That's enough. We don't have time for this, we need to find my 'Lexie; I don't care about the troubles of an arsehole wizard who doesn't know when to shut up. I take control, snatching it away from you, and feel your body transform into mine, feeling the satisfying snap of bones breaking and reforming, and ripping of clothes tearing.

When I am fully wolf, I crouch and snarl, baring canines even sharper than yours. I prowl towards him slowly.

You can't kill him.

Fine, but only because he's your friend. And it would take time we don't have.

"Uh... Harry, what are you..?" I growl, cutting him off. Has he not learnt anything? Surely he would know by now that I- fuck it, this doesn't matter. I snarl at him in warning, snapping my jaws, before turning and running out of the entrance hall towards the forest.

I'm much faster than you, so really we didn't lose that much time. Still, too much. I howl as loud as possible, hoping that if he realises we're looking for him, realises we care, and will come back. Fuck, I want him to come back. More than I want to keep living.

I bound further into the forest, running in the vague direction he flew, scanning the area between trees that seem to be flying first.

Maybe I should take control; I can call his name, better get his attention. You sound desperate. I can't blame you; so am I.

I'm faster. I have better eyesight and sense of smell. I'll find him.

I hope so.

I pick up the pace, howling again, but am cut off by a scream that makes my heart stop. Mate.

Go, go!

You don't need to tell me twice. I'm off, even faster than before, so fast my muscles are aching and my lungs are quivering. I push the pain aside, focusing on nothing but mate, mate, my mate screamed, my mate is in pain, I need to find my mate.

I pick up his scent, coming to a halt. I look around, searching the trees for a glimpse of his sunlight hair or slate grey wings. Instead, I'm left with an empty clearing and a few shed feathers. I rush over to them, and notice with a sudden jolt to my stomach that they're matted with blood. No. No.

And then another scream echoes through the trees and I'm running towards it before I can feel the strange mix of relief and dread - because my mate is alive, but alive and in pain.

"Begging already?" a voice says, and I emerge into a clearing to see a filthy chimaera pinning my mate to the floor, both of them covered in blood. A growl sounds, and I barely register that it came from me, before I'm pouncing on the chimaera, tearing it off my poor, gorgeous, wounded mate. And all I want to do is make it suffer. Make it know pain a thousand times worse than what it taught my mate.

My claws and teeth are ripping through its skin, and every so often its own claws graze mine, but I barely notice the pain, instead focusing on making the scum beneath me pay for even thinking about what is mine.

A deep scratch across its belly finally draws an agonised howl from the chimaera, and even though I could never make it suffer enough, I let myself kill it. I tear into it's neck, completely severing its lion head from its body, drenching myself and the ground in its blood. It smells like victory. Like justice.

I finally stop to breathe, and realise you've been trying to get my attention.

Fucking finally, go to Draco, Eli, he's hurt, go, quick, quick!

I'm pushed back into reality, and scamper over to my mate. My mate, who I had left to bleed out. My mate, who is hurt, and I had ignored in favour of hurting someone else.

My mate is almost out of it, eyes drooping. The sight of him hurt is worse than anything I've ever seen. There is a large, deep gash across his chest, and scratch marks across his face that I fear will scar, as well as what looks like a bite wound on his left shoulder and wings.

But still, he's smiling lazily, raising a hand to my cheek, which I nuzzle against, whining softly. Then his eyes shut, and he sleeps.

I curl up against him, pressing as much skin to his, knowing my touch - the touch of his mate - will help him heal more than any human medi-witch will. His limp hand remains on my muzzle, and I lick at it gently, hoping to wake him up.

After what feels like too long, the bleeding starts to stop, and I exhale deeply in relief. He'll be okay. My mate will be okay. Everything will be okay.

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