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Draco swaggered towards him, smirking like the fecking Cheshire Cat.
Harry sighed, knowing what came next…
“Are you and Weasley sharing hand-me-down costumes now?” his rival jeered, inspecting Harry’s outfit with contemptuous disapproval. “Tacky, Potter. Your boyfriend has bad taste in everything, it seems.” He flashed his own costume’s bat-like wings, which were admittedly impressive. “Meanwhile, some of us could afford the best for tonight’s Samhain ball. See, this is what a Dark Fae is supposed to look like.”
Little did he know, but Harry’s wings weren’t faked. Lily Evans had been a changeling, and over the summer, Harry had finally inherited her Fae abilities, including illusion and passion magic…and the wings.
Sick unto death of Malfoy’s constant mocking, Harry sought to teach him a lesson.
He flapped his ebony bat-like wings once. Black fairy dust laced with a seductive pheromone fell in twinkling patterns all over Draco, ensnaring him instantly in a lust spell. The front of his expensive costume was suddenly tenting in a rather embarrassing manner.
Harry leaned forward and whispered, “See, this is what a Dark Fae actually feels like.”
He laughed as he walked away.
Now Malfoy was in for a most uncomfortable night instead.