Prologue: Bad News 6/2/97

'Shit!'

Things had been going so well, too, School was almost over for the summer, he turned seventeen in three days time and The Golden Twats had not been to school in a few months, off doing who knows what for old Dumbledweeb. Things were great. Well, if one did not count old snake eyes visiting the Manor whenever he wanted or the wedding contract that he would have to honor before he turned twenty-one. He had time now, time to sow his oats (well more oats than he'd sowed in the last few years, which all things considered had been prodigious) before finally settling down to the sort of life he'd always thought he'd have.

HA!

"Explain, mother, as I find myself very confused by this new...information," Draco said because demanded sounded so crude. He schooled his features into a mask as he had been raised to do; showing emotion was for assholes and quite frankly, he was too shocked.

Narcissa looked at her son, her gaze filled with remorse and concern though one would have to be looking into her eyes to note such things. Her own features; haughty yet ethereal, showed no more emotion than her son's. With a quiet sigh, the beautiful blonde shifted against the wing-backed chair located in her east wing sitting room and once again reiterated the information she'd just finished sharing.

"As I have already stated, on your seventeenth birthday, you may experience some changes. The Malfoy line has intermingled with Veela females quite a few times and therefore is not as pure as your father claimed," she huffed a sigh. "Since there hasn't been a Malfoy female in a few centuries, your father and I assumed that the Veela gene had died out, however that does not seem to be the case."

"And you know this how, mother?" The words were precise, clipped, losing the faint aristocratic drawl most heard.

"Your eating habits have changed. Foods that you enjoyed last year now cause you to wrinkle your nose in distaste, from either the scent or the texture. You've also had quite a few headaches which have lasted longer each time. The most compelling evidence is the way that you look. You've gained in height and weight, your complexion has a healthy glow, and your eyes shift from lightest gray to black, depending upon your mood."

Draco nodded, slowly, a frown marring his patrician features, as he turned his eyes toward a large fireplace located just to the left of the seating area. He watched the fire with a pensive expression before he turned to look at his mother, once more.

"So what does this mean for me?"

"For one, the marriage to Miss Greengrass can't be allowed to occur as you will have only a few years to find, woo, mark and bind, your mate." She forestalled his outburst with a slender hand. "If you are already exhibiting characteristics then it is certain that you WILL have a mate and since that IS the case, getting involved with the Greengrasses does not make sense. After all, if either Greengrass girl was to be your mate, you would have been inexplicably drawn to one of them for years, even without the change."

She paused, her gaze flicking toward his face and then back to her lap. "The most important thing is that unless you find your mate at Hogwarts in your seventh year, you will be visited with dreams starting on your eighteenth birthday directing you toward your future beloved. I will tell you that the Veela cares nothing for blood purity nor propriety and if you meet your mate but refuse to acknowledge her, you will die on your nineteenth birthday."

Draco blinked and blinked again because FUCK! What was scary was the fact that if he were to have a mate attending Hogwarts? He had already met and hated her. Inexplicable drawing anyone? Yeah, he had that, in spades. How else could one explain his need to compete with, complain about and utterly loathe~ to the point of distraction, no less~someone who was so far beneath him?

'Please don't let be her. Please don't let it be her!'

However, fate seemed to hate him because his mother spoke, once more.

"If I were you? I'd start by looking at that muggle-born, Miss Granger. You will know if she is the one because her scent will beckon to you. If it is not, then expand your search, methodically."

'Fuck!'

He had to say something. He was sure his mother was right and oh, did it suck.

"Yes, mother."

Guess it was good that his father had been killed during the Ministry debacle. Otherwise, if Granger was his mate, Draco would have been as good as dead. Lucius would have killed him.

'Bloody Hell! Guess I will just have to wait until school starts again.'