Harry sat just within the boundaries of the forbidden forest, grooming his crown of feathers nervously and looking left and right. His forest wyvern blood was more prominent in its element so his teeth were sharpened into sharpened incisors and the whites of his eyes were yellowing, attuned to movement and pheromones. He and Draco had agreed to meet here yesterday when they had to separate for dinner. Their heart to heart while certainly solidifying in their relationship, they were still pretty awkward with it. Thus, this was not a 'date'. Just a meetup so they could spend time together. 

He'd accidentally arrived fifteen minutes early by panicking himself at the thought of being late, so here he was, still a good seven minutes before the designated meeting time, ready to take a nap already. He scoffed at himself. He's not even here yet and you're all over the place.  

To be fair, he had reason to be on edge. Though he was pretty much convinced that Draco had no ill intentions, this was a war; and letting his guard down completely after the boy nearly killed him was not an option. How Harry wished it was; he wished that he could bypass all the hesitation and just go with the flow like any other teenager. But he was no ordinary teenager, and so it would be. 

He jolted and looked up, the intoxicating scent of his mate beginning to register. He inhaled deeply and smiled slightly, pheromones numbing his anxiety and allowing his stiff posture to relax as he slumped into the tree trunk behind him.

The trees and bushes rustled and swelled, seemingly in anticipation of Draco's arrival. Soon enough the blond boy came into view, his pureblood strut hindered by his obvious tensity, which lessened as he caught sight of Harry. A similar small smile adorned his face, and Harry's cheeks gained a light blush at the sight of him.

"Hey," Harry started.

"Morning, Potter," Draco responded, his signature smirk playing across his lips. While Harry might've found it arrogant before, his heart swelled a little at the sight. 

"Back on last name basis, I see," he poked playfully as Draco took a seat beside him. The greenery around them seemed to shroud them; sheltering them from any prying eyes that might have wandered so far.

"Well we can't have the rabbits thinking we're on good terms can we? Imagine the ruckus all the gossip would cause." 

The tension they'd both anticipated was cut like a hot knife through butter almost immediately - they simply clicked. Conversation flowed effortlessly and both eased up considerably.

"I-  I brought some lunch," Draco confessed, pulling a small bundle from his pocket and enlarging it with his wand until it was revealed to be a stack of boxes wrapped in a blanket. 

"Oh thanks, you didn't need to!" Harry said through a glowing smile. Every gesture instilled a little more trust and Harry was jut about ready to melt. 

"Dont expect me to be so mushy all the time, by the way." For some reason, Harry doubted this. They had such an effect on eachother. "If you'd stand," Draco asked, to which Harry obliged. Draco spread the blanket where they were sat at the base of a growing oak, and as they both sat he placed the stack of boxes between them. "I organised it by which we eat first, so we don't have to shuffle through the pile trying to work out which is which." God. How cute.

"I dunno what to say," Harry said dumbly. Draco grinned.

"you're hot when you're confused," he admitted, his porcelain face lighting up with embarrassment as he waited for his comment to settle in. He heard a light chuckle from Harry and he could've turned to jelly right there.

"Pretty bold, coming from mr. 'physically flawless'," Harry shot back with a cheeky grin.

"Alright, enough flirting, I spent bloody ages slaving like a house elf on this crap. Dig in already," Draco muttered, snatching up the flat box on the top of the pile and flipping the cardboard lid open. The box itself acted as the serving dish; in one corner was a triangular compartment of hummus, and in the rest of the space sat various items to dip.

"You made all of this?" Harry asked, stunned, eyeing the five considerable cardboard boxes between them. Draco blushed yet again.

"It's no big deal," he brushed off, picking up a carrot stick and loading it with hummus. "Help yourself; you're not a toddler, I'm not hand feeding you."

Draco's emotions went haywire as Harry let out a pleasurable moan at the taste of the food. "Shit, this is good, and I don't even like hummus! I thought you were a pureblood kid, how come you're so good at cooking?" Harry mumbled through his mouthful of breadstick. Draco scoffed.

"Just because my mother cut my spaghetti up until I was nine does not mean I'm incapable. It's just potions, but with food. Not that hard to wrap my head around." Harry spluttered with a sudden burst of laughter.

"Little Draco only ate the premium pasta," he choked out, imagining 9 year old Draco turning his nose up at a plate of spaghetti until his mother came over to cut it up for him. The blonde huffed.

"I just liked the gesture. And full noodles were too tempting to slurp, and my father shouted at me when I got sauce on my clothes." Harry slowly mellowed out, numbly acknowledging that he'd never had anyone to cut his pasta for him, so he really had no room to make assumptions. 

They went through each course similarly, laughing and joking and blushing. With the stress they were both under, it was a brilliant breath of fresh air just spending time together. They breezed through the beautiful salad and quiche main, and Harry was eyeing the last two boxes eagerly. Draco noticed and smiled to himself, reaching over for the one on the top.

"Ice cream? How'd you keep it cold?" Harry asked stupidly, excitedly observing the clean stripes of neapolitan in the carton. Draco snorted.

"Why do you think we carry these sticks around everywhere, Potter? Magic." Harry's mouth formed an 'o'.

"God, I am a bit dim, aren't I?" He chuckled. Draco placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing slightly in encouragement.

"Hey, don't get yourself down. It's cute." Draco was uneager to lift his hand from Harry's shoulder finding it rather comfortable, but he chose to move to open the second box. Harry gasped as the flap released, springing open to reveal the contents.

"How'd you know?" 

"Oh please. The entire castle knows that Potter is a slut for treacle tart." 

Harry shrugged. "Can/t argue with that."

Draco used his wand to scoop a perfect serving of three-striped ice cream, before placing it atop a pre-portioned slice of treacle tart and holding it out for his mate. Harry, rather than taking it immediately, took a bite from Draco's hand and chewed blissfuly, savouring the taste.

"It's delicious," he hummed before taking the slice and continuing to eat. Draco was a mess of rosy cheeks, but composed himself to serve himself and they ate in comfortable silence.

"Speaking of things you know about me; there's something I meant to ask yesterday but it slipped my mind. What is your inheritance?" Harry managed to get out, after a solid minute of basking in the wonderful treacle tart. Draco sighed.

"So you wish to know the scandalous Malfoy heritage? Well; I have two, one from each side of the family. The trait skipped my father, but my mother was a half- breed. It was simply overlooked, as it made her irresistible in beauty. I happen to be half Veela, half forest lord." 

"Do you wear glamours?" Harry asked eagerly. Rather than responding verbally, Draco flicked his wand and a glowing light traveled from head to toe, revealing him in his true radiant beauty. 

His hair was just past his shoulders, glowing blond-white. His features were marginally more feminine; cupids-bow lips slightly plumper and cheekbones even more defined. His eyes were stormy grey with veins of sliver throughout. From just behind his hairline sprouted magnificent deer antlers, wide and proud like a naturally hewn headdress. And from his back grew green wings, grass green at the shoulder blade and eventually fading to white at the tips. 

Harry was taken aback. Draco was unutterably stunning; glowing, radiant, ethereal. Words could truly not describe. He drank in the sight before him and became numb with admiration.

In Harry's intoxication, Draco had become nervous; few people had ever seen him in his true form, and no reaction had ever been positive. He'd grown to believe it was obscene or disgusting. Though he knew in his heart it was false, the thought never left him. It had taken courage he didn't know he possessed to remove the glamours, and he wasn't ready for another slap in the face.

"Are you just gonna stare, or..." He mumbled anxiously, trying to cloak his insecurities with hostility like he always had; but Harry could see straight through him.

"You're beautiful," Harry murmured, lifting a hand to delicately sweep a stray strand of hair from Draco's face before placing it atop his mate's. Draco gasped at the skin contact, and without hesitation flipped his hand so their palms pressed together. Their fingers intertwined and they sat in harmony, gazing in wonder into eachothers eyes. they could've sat like that for hours, had a rustle sounded from a dozen feet away, breaking the spell. Draco's gaze flitted to the source of the noise before returning. Instead of resuming eye contact, he moved to rest his head on Harry's shoulder. 

It was like they were in a pocket of frozen time; there was no noise but the gentle rustle of the forest and their gentle, slow breaths. Nothing but their heartbeats to keep them company. Draco was slowly succumbing to sleep, which he was desperately deprived of as of late, content in the peace of the moment. Harry was in a similar bliss, but instead of dozing off, he took the time to observe Draco in his true form. He didn't think he would ever get tired of looking over his features; a fire started in his heart as he realised that this was his and his alone, to love and to protect. It was a fire of passion and determination, that flared as his instincts were suddenly alerted to a large living entity fast approaching their spot.

Draco was just asleep, his head gently on Harry's shoulder as light breaths escaped his parted lips. It was probably nothing to wake the angel over; just a centaur going about its regular business. 

It took him almost too long to register that thought, and think it over.

Centaurs never came so far from the middle of the forest.

And in a flash, he heard the rapid drawing of a bow string, followed by the rush of air notorious of an arrow being released. He straightened up and his arm flew out ahead of him, his instinct guiding him to intercept the arrow before it got close to Draco. The metal tip made contact with his palm and stuck fast, leading Harry to yell and hiss with the sudden pain and waking up Draco. Before Harry could jump up and find the source, the galloping sprint was far in the distance and Draco grasped his wrist delicately to hold him in place.

"What on earth happened?" Was Draco's first question, as Harry settled back down dejectedly and looked at the metal tip protruding from the back of his hand. 

"It was fast... Too fast to react more than this. A centaur or something," he mumbled rapidly, the adrenaline of the situation masking the pain and slurring his words. Numb to his screaming nerves, he yanked the arrow from his hand. Draco hissed in sympathy, and they both watched curiously as a bloodstained envelope fell from the shaft.

"Someone must be pretty damn eager to get a letter to one of us," Draco quizzed, "but first, give me your hand." Harry held his hand out, and Draco clasped it in his two smaller ones and graced his thumbs over the puncture gently. The torn edges glowed, before knitting back together seamlessly. 

"Thanks love," Harry said, flexing his hand before picking the letter up and turning it over. Draco turned to mush at the nickname, but kept it together to witness the letter. Harry's brow furrowed at the plain front, before sliding his thumb under the seal and pulling the parchment from inside and reading aloud:

Harry

Sit tight. Stay safe. Not all is as it seems.

-PF & BW

how y'all doin this fine evening