Then, Snape studied him for a moment before speaking again, his voice measured, almost detached. “Does it hurt?”
Draco stiffened, knowing exactly what he meant but pretending otherwise. “Does what hurt?” he said, feigning ignorance as he straightened his robes.
Snape’s gaze sharpened. “Don't play coy with me, boy. The bond mark.”
Draco’s fingers twitched, instinctively moving toward the side of his neck where Potter—bloody Potter—had bitten him only a day ago. He caught himself just before touching it, but Snape noticed. Of course he did.
“I…” Draco cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”
Snape raised an eyebrow.
Draco scowled, crossing his arms. “Alright, maybe it stings a little. But it’s not as if I care.”
Without a word, Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass vial, its contents a deep emerald green. He held it out. “Rub this on the mark. It will soothe the pain, and dampen your scent for the time being.”
Draco hesitated before taking it, rolling the bottle between his fingers. “I don’t need—”
“Do not be foolish.” Snape cut him off. “This is not simply a wound. The mating bond is not something you can ignore, no matter how much you wish to.”
Draco’s grip tightened around the vial. “Even you, Professor?” he snapped, his frustration finally breaking through. “Even you want me to be near that. . .that git?”
Snape exhaled through his nose, his patience clearly thinning. “It is not about what I want. You are mated now. Your souls are intertwined. The longer you resist, the more strain you put on yourself.”
Draco scoffed. “Strain? Please. The only thing strained here is my tolerance for Potter’s ridiculous—”
A sharp pulse of heat flared at the bite, and Draco barely bit back a wince.
Snape sighed. “Stay close to your Alpha,” He instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. “It will ease the bond’s discomfort.”
Draco glared at the floor, jaw clenched. “This is absurd.”
“This is nature.” Snape corrected coolly. “And whether you like it or not, you cannot fight it forever. Off you go."
=====
Draco, in fact, did not go off to his Alpha. Instead, he made a deliberate show of ignoring Potter entirely, walking past him without so much as a glance and settling himself beside Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini at the Slytherin table. He could feel Harry's gaze, the bloke staring daggers at him.
Maybe it was because Zabini was practically draped over him. The Alpha had one arm slung lazily around Draco’s shoulders, his fingers idly tapping against his chest as he spoke in that smooth, ever-unbothered tone of his. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—Blaise had always been touchy—but for some reason, Potter looked like he was about to explode.
From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione nudge Potter hard in the ribs, muttering something under her breath. Ron was whispering too, though he looked more amused than concerned. But Harry? Harry was still staring. Glaring.
"Anyways," Blaise rambled on. "I told Theo to meet me in Hogsmeade after class yesterday, but he refused and made it seem like I was in the wrong."
Draco rolled his eyes, amused. "Well, if you want to court someone, you should put more effort. At least take them there instead of asking to meet up."
"You speak as if you have more dating experience." Blaise complained. "'Supposed to take my side."
"I side with the truth, bitter as it may be."
"Liar! You side with what benefits you!" Blaise said with laughter. "Trying to stay on our good side and not choose between us, ay?"
Theodore, who had been picking apart his toast, seemed to notice something was off. “Did something happen?” he asked, cutting through Blaise’s idle chatter.
Draco blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "No. Why?"
Theo arched a skeptical brow. “Then why do you look like you’re going to die? You’re stiff as a rock.”
“It’s just my posture.”
“Your posture’s shit.”
Draco scowled, but before he could retort, Blaise jabbed a lazy finger against his cheek. “Maybe it’s because Potter looks like he wants to murder someone.”
Draco smacked his hand away. “Stop that.”
"More like he'd kill you, Zabini." Theodore said thoughtfully, stuffing his mouth with a piece of bacon.
". . .What?"
"Potter's glaring at you, not Draco."
Draco rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. He and his lot find something new to be mad about every day.”
“Oh.” Theo’s voice turned sing-song. “He’s coming over.”
“More like marching.” Blaise muttered.
Draco finally looked up to meet Harry's gaze, the first time since their biting ceremony. The Alpha was angry. He could tell, from how Harry's jaw was clenched and his fists balled tightly. His eyes were razor focused on Draco, ignoring everyone else.
"Malfoy, come with me."
Blaise bristled immediately. “Who are you to order Draco around?” he asked, standing up to meet Harry’s glare.
Harry looked him up and down and scowled. "And why do you care?"
"He's our friend," Theodore responded, narrowing his eyes.
Harry’s gaze flickered to him for barely a second before snapping back to Blaise. “He’s mine.”
Draco barely had a second to react before Blaise lunged. One moment, Blaise was across the table, and the next, he had Harry by the collar, yanking him forward so sharply that a few nearby students gasped.
"Who the fuck are you to even say a thing like that?! You? His Alpha?"
“You are not his Alpha.” Harry’s voice was deadly calm, though his eyes betrayed his fury. “You have no say.”
Blaise bared his teeth. “And you think you're his Alpha?” he snarled.
Before this could escalate into an all-out territorial brawl in the middle of breakfast, Draco shot up and grabbed Harry’s wrist, yanking him back. Harry stilled immediately, eyes snapping to where they touched. His fingers twitched again, but this time, not out of anger. His mouth parted slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Draco had voluntarily reached for him.
"It's fine," He assured Blaise quickly. "Potter, come on."
"Draco--are you sure?"
"Yes, Blaise. Potter, move."
Harry nodded dumbly and, without another word, allowed himself to be pulled out of the Great Hall.Draco stalked down the corridor, his pulse hammering in his ears. His only thought was to get away—away from the prying eyes of the Great Hall. He found himself near McGonagall's office--perfect, the witch was probably out somewhere else. Draco turned sharply on his heel, gripping the front of Harry's robes and shoving him—hard—against the stone wall.
"What the hell was that?" Draco demanded, glaring up at him.
Harry blinked, far too lazy about the whole thing, considering how furious he had been just minutes ago. “What was what?”
"That! Picking a fight with my friends!"
A flicker of something dark passed through Harry's eyes before he suddenly moved, reversing their positions with practiced ease. In an instant, Draco found himself pressed against the cold stone instead, Harry's grip firm on his wrists. One of his hands slid down to his waist, steadying him, securing him.
"I should ask you that," Potter’s voice was lower now, laced with irritation. "Running off after I just bit you? Ignoring me?"
"I don't owe you anything." Draco replied stubbornly.
Harry growled, and Draco felt the shift immediately—his scent turning sharper, darker, thick with displeasure. Draco flinched before he could stop himself, nearly baring his neck in instinctive submission, trying to appease his Alpha. He caught himself too late.
"See?" Harry's gaze darkened. "Deep down you know you're mine. Why did you let Zabini touch you like that?"
"What, jealous, Potter?" Draco retorted but paused in shock when Harry nodded.
Harry didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
"W-well, it's nothing," Draco muttered, avoiding Harry's gaze. "He's my friend, we always touch like that. Besides, Theodore does it too yet you didn't care."
"Theodore is an Omega," Harry said, his voice growing heavy as he spoke. "The other bloke is an Alpha. No Alpha can touch you like that excpet me."
Draco stiffened. “Potter—”
"Call me by my name." He demanded.
"What has gotten into you?"
“My name, Draco.” Harry tone was firmer this time, the command curling around his words, pressing down on Draco’s senses in a way that made his breath stutter. “Say it.”
Draco whimpered involuntarily, unused to the display of dominance. His knees felt weak, and before he realized what was happening, Potter was already adjusting, sliding a leg between Draco’s thighs to steady him. It sent Draco into a hazy headspace, one that made his brain feel light and his body heavy.
"H-Harry." Draco whispered.
Harry smiled. "Good Omega."
Draco barely had time to process that before Harry dipped his head, his lips brushing over the mark at Draco’s neck before sinking his teeth in—lightly, teasing. Draco let out an unbidden whine, body jerking at the sensation, but Harry didn’t stop. He soothed the bite with slow kisses, trailing along his throat, his jaw, anywhere he could reach.
"Stop," Draco gasped, when he was let up for air. "Someone might see."
Potter only hummed, dragging his fingers lightly down Draco’s side. “Let them."
Draco barely had a second to collect himself before Harry was on him again.
The Alpha’s mouth was back at his throat, hot and insistent, dragging over his pulse point, sucking at the still-sensitive bite. A sharp gasp tore from Draco’s lips before he could stop it, fingers instinctively clutching at Harry’s robes.
“H-Harry—”
“Hmm?” Harry didn’t stop, his tongue flicking against the mark, soothing the sting before he bit down again, harder. Draco let out a muffled whimper, hips twitching forward before he realized what he was doing.
Heat curled low in his stomach, his body responding easily to Harry's scent. Draco turned his face away, breathing heavily.
“You can’t— just —do this whenever you want.”
“You like it.” Harry's voice was deep, firm, laced with the satisfaction of an Alpha who knew his Omega was responding to him.
Draco scowled, attempting to push him back, but Harry didn’t budge. His grip tightened on Draco’s wrists, pinning them above his head now, while his other hand trailed down Draco’s pants, pressing him further into the cold stone.
“I—” Draco started, but Harry silenced him—deeper, rougher, more possessive than before. It stole the air from Draco’s lungs, sent a shiver down his spine.
Harry pulled away only when Draco was panting, lips swollen and pupils blown wide. The Alpha smirked, so self-satisfied, so unbearably smug that Draco wanted to hex him.
“See?” Harry murmured, brushing his nose against Draco’s cheek. “You might fight it, but your body knows who you belong to.”
Draco flushed, fury warring with the dangerous warmth spreading through his veins.
And then he heard footsteps.
Panic surged through him like ice water. His head snapped toward the sound, heart hammering. Someone was coming—multiple people. Shit.
With everything in him, Draco shoved Harry away.
The Alpha growled in protest, eyes flashing, but Draco was not about to get caught like this. He quickly straightened his robes, combing his fingers through his completely disheveled hair in a desperate attempt to look normal.
“Fix your damn face, Potter,” Draco hissed, chest rising and falling rapidly. He could still feel the heat of Harry’s touch everywhere.
Harry only smirked. “Why? Afraid people will know you liked it?”
Draco scowled and shoved him again, harder this time. “I swear to Merlin, shut up.”
Just as the approaching voices rounded the corner, Draco turned sharply on his heel and stormed off, doing everything in his power to ignore the way his heart was still racing—and the way Harry’s scent clung to his skin.
