Chapter Seven

CW: worry, mild homophobia, self-deprecation

Tuesday 1 September 1998

Draco

I wake up with the word 'mate' on my tongue and you practically bouncing around my mind, ecstatic. Did you see that too? I couldn't sense you.

No, no, it's like I was completely switched off, I couldn't see or hear anything. But I could feel it, Draco, you felt so happy, so... mate!

Mate, indeed.

On waking up, the constant emptiness I feel has been replaced with a low ebbing ache, but I don't care. I know what that dream means. It means my mate is close.

Mate dreams are designed to help you figure out who your mate is once you get close enough. But what is close enough? Does that mean my mate is on this train, or just in a town we went past? Curiosity eats away at me, but I can't find anything else out, until another dream.

To be honest, I'm not sure I want to know anything else. Because if I do, they will too. And if they know who I am, they might reject me.

Wait, why? Draco why?

I used to act like a bit of a prick, I know that. I didn't realise until I spent time with other people that my father's views were... not correct. I made a few enemies at school, plus being on the wrong side of the war... I wouldn't be surprised if my mate hates me. Merlin, what if my mate hates me?

"You okay?" Blaise asks.

"Mate dream."

"You think they're on the train?" I shrug.

"I don't know. I couldn't talk in it, or see them properly." In fact, all I really learnt about my mate is how well I fit into their arms.

"Well, we're nearly here. You should get your robes on."

Getting out of the train is hell. There are people everywhere, rushing to the carriages, trying to get one with their friends. I feel myself getting anxious again.

It's okay, Draco, you're okay. You want me to-

"You okay, Draco?" It's Blaise. He can probably scent my fear.

"Y-yeah, it's just... all the people..."

"You wanna wait it out? We can fly to the castle after all the carriages have gone. Give us a chance to stretch our wings, yeah?" That's actually a great idea. I nod.

I always forget how good flying feels until I do it again. It's like flying a broom, but a thousand times better. My wings are strong and reliable, and they're a part of me. I control them. I can stop flapping them for a few seconds, and let the wind hold me up. And just for a moment, I feel weightless.

Soon enough, we pass the carriages. A couple of people point and gape at us, mainly the younger years. I guess to kids who have only been raised in muggle society, people flying is pretty cool.

Eventually we reach the school. Blaise and I land in front of the grand wooden door to the entrance hall, and we walk in, making our way passed the first years heading to the small chamber McGonagall gave us our speech as firsties, where Flitwick now would, having taken McGonagall's place as deputy head when she became Headmistress. They gape at us, and I'm confused to why, before I remember our wings are still on display.

I look to Blaise for guidance subconsciously, but he just winks at them, and continues walking into the Great Hall. When the doors swing open, eyes lock on us, and I keep my head ducked down. Blaise takes my arm, which is a good thing; I would probably collapse due to my quivering legs; and leads me to the Slytherin table where our friends sit.

"Where did you guys go?"

"We flew here from the train. Wanted to spread our wings after being cooped up in the train," Blaise explains, and I'm glad he didn't mention my anxiety. He sits down, but I remain standing, until he mumbles, "You may sit, Draco." I do so, blushing slightly. I realise I've become used to Uncle Michael giving me orders, having explained some dominants like to do so, not maliciously, just to maintain power. I expected to hate it, but I grew to depend on it. I appreciate Blaise for acknowledging this, and for doing it now.

I watch the sorting numbly, noticing a few firsties recognise me and Blaise from the entrance hall and continue their staring. When a couple join Slytherin, I clap along with my house, but don't even listen to their names. I find myself not as interested in the house system. My new nature does not lend itself to competitiveness.

The sorting ends, and McGonagall gives her speech; much more suitable than Dumbledore's previous ones; before allowing us to tuck in. I wait, hoping for Blaise's permission again. I didn't realise how much I depended on the guidance of a dom.

"You may eat, Draco." I nod, and do as he says. Somehow, the food tastes better for his permission to eat it. I know it doesn't sound like a healthy relationship by regular wizard standards. But his permission let's me know I'm doing the right thing, means I don't ever need to worry. It's freeing, rather than constrictive.

I didn't realise until now how much my late start put me at a disadvantage. Emma didn't act nearly as submissive as I do now, she just found comfort in my uncle. But every little thing scares me. The thought of making Blaise angry, or worse, disappointed, makes me feel physically ill. I look to him before doing anything.

Part way through the meal, I overhear a conversation amongst a few firsties further down the table.

"Aren't those the guys with wings?"

"Huh?"

"Didn't you see them in the entrance hall? They were so big!"

"I dare you to go and ask!"

"No way, they look so old! They're probably seventh years!" I giggle at that.

"No, I think I know that guy! Isn't that Draco Malfoy? He was in the Daily Prophet with his family; I think his dad was a death eater!"

My heart sinks. I didn't want this. I don't want to be thought of as Lucius Malfoy's son. I loved my father, I still do, but he made some wrong decisions, decisions that made me make the same ones, ones I regret with every fibre of my being. If I'm known of as Lucius Malfoy's son, I'll be known of as a death eater.

I thought the knowledge of who I was would deter them, but it seemed to make them more interested, and before I know it, the three of them have found their way over to us; two boys and a girl. They seem to be quietly arguing over who should speak first. I see Blaise smirk, obviously realising what's going on.

"Can we help you?" he says.

"Um, we were just... just wondering... why do you have wings?" Blaise chuckles.

"We're Veela." One of them; the girl who knew who I was, who is probably a pureblood; gapes, whilst the others look confused.

"Veela? What's that?"

"Well that's kind of complicated. There are three kinds," Blaise starts. When he finishes his explanation, one of the firsties asks;

"So are you dominants?"

"I am, yes," Blaise replies.

"What about you?" Another says, gesturing to me. "You haven't said anything; that's not very dominant." I gulp, looking to Blaise, who nods, indicating I can speak.

"Um, n-no, I'm a sub." Blaise places a hand on my shoulder, a gesture of congratulations. But when I look at the firsties, they're glaring at me in disgust.

Whatever they're about to say, don't listen to them.

"Ew, doesn't that mean you're, like, gay?" I hear the rumble of a growl start in Blaise's chest.

"Well, uh, not- not necessarily..."

"Wait, I thought you were Draco Malfoy?" the pureblood girl asks, confused.

"Yeah. I mean, I am."

"So how are you gay?" one of the boys says with the most disgust I've ever heard someone utter.

"It's not... I m-mean, I didn't chose-" He cuts me off with a look that makes me whimper, ducking my head. Blaise's hand tightens on my shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with being a male submissive," he says, practically growling. The firsties look sceptical, but I can tell they're scared of Blaise.

"Right. It was nice to meet you... sorry, I didn't catch your name?" the girl says politely.

"Zabini."

"It was nice to meet you, Zabini. Thank you for explaining." He nods at her, his hand slipping off my shoulder as he turns back to his meal. One of the boys glares at me when I raise my eyes again, and I look away.

I knew I should never have accepted my submissive nature. If I had never allowed myself to become what I, and apparently everyone else, hates, that conversation would never have happened, and I wouldn't be left feeling so... small. Worthless.

You're not worthless, Draco.

I know. I do know that. But... that doesn't stop me from feeling that way. I just wish I wasn't a sub. I wish I wasn't such a sub.

There's nothing wrong-

Yes, there is. I made a mistake the day I listened to you. I should never have allowed my submissiveness to grow. And now look at me. I'm pathetic.

But our mate-

Our mate will hate us, Alex. Look at me! I can't even stand up to eleven-year-olds. And that is when I realise that I'm right. My mate will despise me; I'm pathetic. Who would want someone who can't even look at children without whimpering by their side? Not just someone; Draco fucking Malfoy. Everyone probably hates me anyway, and anyone who didn't out of some sort of respect for me will now that I'm a sub. As soon as my mate realises who I am, they will reject me. I don't want to be rejected, but I know that I will be, unless I never meet my mate. I swear to myself, even if you hate me for it, I will do everything I can to avoid finding them.

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