(A/N) This is my first multi-chapter story, so please bear with me. If you want to see more of this (this is just a pilot chapter), please let me know by reviewing or PMing me. I'd love it if you guys wanted to see more of this story, and I promise you if you want me to, I WILL FINISH IT. It always bothers me when people start a story but never finish it. I know a lot of the time people get caught up with normal life, and I can't promise I won't, but as long as I know you're waiting for it, I'll try my hardest to get it done.
With all that out of the way, you can go ahead to the story!
Happy reading!
Chapter One: Change
Had I known this day might come? Well, yes, I had been warned. Did I prepare at all for the transformation? No, of course not; I couldn't be bothered with that. (There was a war raging.) But, the most important part:
Had I been anticipating my mate?
The answer to that question is simple. Just ask the three hundred girls I snogged during my youthful days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, before the War began.
The answer is no. I didn't want a life-long companion. Not a romantic one anyhow. I had Gregory, Blaise and Theo. My friends. Not best friends, we weren't nearly that close, but after the War, we'd all grown a little more human and decided to become friends.
But the point is, the transformation came as a complete surprise to me. Not my mother though, oh no, she knew. It's a mom thing, I think.
It all started on the night of my birthday, June fifth…
"…Draco…" her soft voice called to me as I walked through the meadow.
I looked around, eager to find her. She sat by a stream that wound its way through the meadow, cupping the water and carefully sipping it. Hearing my approach, she stood, her waves of long dark coffee curls cascading down her back and over her shoulders. She was a tiny thing, coming up no higher than my mid-bicep. Her body was curvy, her figure hourglass-like. She turned, and I stared deep into her earthen eyes, warm and loving. Her face was small and round, her eyes large and innocent and beautiful.
Laughing gaily, she flitted to me and held open her palms. In them were several multicolored flowers.
"Aren't they gorgeous?" she smiled widely at me and sat down in the midst of the flowers.
I sat down beside her and plucked one of the flowers from her grasp. It was a small purple one, and I tucked in into her hair, right above her ear. She smiled and looked up at me from underneath thick lashes. I leaned forward, intent upon kissing her full pink lips.
So close . . .
I jolted awake, horribly aware of the throbbing ache in my jaw and sharp jabs of pain in my shoulder blades. I stretched, trying to ease the pain, but it didn't work. Then I sat up and rolled my shoulders, but that only inflamed it. I let out a strained growl. I jumped. Did I seriously just growl? It sounded feral and vicious; dangerous. I liked it.
I leapt out of bed and dashed to the full length mirror. I ripped the sheet that had somehow gotten tangled up on me away and stared in awe at myself. Yeah, sure, I know I'm an arrogant person, but when you become this friggin' hot in a single night, you'll stare too.
I wasn't particularly tall, maybe an inch or so taller than Potter, and a few inches shorter than Weaselbee, but not bad. In one night, I'd jumped from a decent 5' 8" to a Holy-Pants-of-Merlin 6' 4". That's eight bloody inches!
My physique had improved too, as I was lithe and lean; muscular, but thin. There was a long white scar running from the top of my left shoulder all the way down to my right hip, courtesy of Potter's Sectumsempra. I scowled at the black Dark Mark tattoo on the inner part of my left forearm. It was still there, unfortunately. Turning my gaze away from that mistake, I admired the rest of my strong body, smirking at the thought of using my strength to protect my mate.
Wait, mate?
Suddenly, everything my mother and father had told me about my veela blood came rushing back. Right, a life-long mate. My female counterpart, my equal, my true love.
Ew.
Of course, that would mean that I'd get Pansy off my back. She never seemed to take the hint that I didn't want to date her. Sure, she was a sweet girl, and I loved her to death, but as a sister. Not a potential lover. And now that I had a mate somewhere out there, and I must've already had skin-on-skin contact with her, since that was how the blood was awakened, so it shouldn't be too hard. Also, I'd soon have developed an empathic link to my mate, and be able to tell where she was and if she was in danger.
I then remembered my dream. And her. Ohhhh no. I am so screwed. And not in the good way.
My mate was Hermione freaking Granger, Golden Girl of Hogwarts and best friend to Potty and the Weasel.
Ah, life was cruel.
I was ripped out of my self-pity when pain wrenched my back and shoulders, burning its way through the skin. I felt as if my back was being ripped apart by my shoulder blades, and then I fainted.
How embarrassing.
When I came to, I was lying on the floor in front of the mirror in a pile of white feathers. Er, what? Merlin, where did the feathers come from!? I sat up quickly, rolling my shoulders to see if there was any residual pain. There wasn't, nothing other than a mild soreness in my . . . did I have two more limbs? That might seem like a strange question, but the feeling was unfamiliar, yet perfectly normal. I blinked and turned my head towards the mirror.
So that's where the feathers came from. Sprouting from my shoulders and arching up to nearly twice my height were two platinum wings. I flexed them, just to see how strong they were, and nearly knocked a table over with the buffeted wind. Oops.
I wondered what Hermione would think of my wings. Would she be impressed?
Well of course she would. said a small voice in my head. It's not every day you see someone with giant bird wings attatched to them.
I smirked and stood, almost falling over from the weight of the wings, but quickly getting the hang of balancing with the appendages. As I stretched and folded my wings, I imagined Hermione, my tiny little Hermione, standing with me, enveloped tightly inside the warmth of my arms. I closed my eyes and thought of her, her doe eyes, her coffee curls and their bushiness, her small, fragile body . . .
I growled. I couldn't stand the thought of her getting hurt. I thought of the War, and how much of an arse I'd been. She could have been suffering and I wouldn't've cared. She did suffer. My horrid Aunt Bellatrix tortured her. In my own house.
As that memory replayed, I heard a strange, birdlike keening noise. After a few seconds, I realized it was me. I was making the sound because of the memory.
There was a pop and Whirry the house-elf apparated into the bedroom.
"Good morning, sir!" squeaked the happy little elf, beaming up at me.
I liked Whirry, he was a lot like my father's old elf, Dobby. I never did see much of Dobby, he always worked with Father, but I did see him on occasion, and he was a brilliant little elf.
Whirry skipped over to the french doors that led out onto the balcony and pulled back the curtains, letting crisp golden sunlight pour in. Whirry didn't seem at all bothered by my new limbs.
"Whirry?" I asked.
"Yes, sir?" he turned, his round green orbs watching me intently.
"Er, you did notice I've wings now, didn't you?" I frowned.
"Of course, sir!" Whirry laughed. "I is helping sir, as Mistress tells Whirry. Master is veela, sir, Mistress say you grow wings."
"Oh," was I said.
Sometimes house-elves were quite hard to communicate with. Thinking about that, and Dobby, made me remember Hermione's (pathetic) idea to free them all. Dobby was all for it, but all the other elves thought she was crazy. I told Whirry about it and he thought it was a nice thing to do, but said that he loved working and didn't need pay for it. Whirry was basically extended family to me and Mother, it never seemed like he was a slave, and he never thought of himself as a slave.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Whirry?" I turned, shifting my wings slightly and almost falling over in the process.
"Master might want to take a look at you's wings, sir." Whirry smiled and pointed to my wings.
I turned to the mirror and my eyes widened. My wings weren't white. They weren't platinum or silver or even gold.
They were iridescent and a blue so light it was nearly blinding. The sunlight caught on the feathers and they shone rainbow. I fluttered them, amazed by the beauty. I leaned closer to the mirror to study my face to see what about it had changed.
I already knew that my body had shifted from the scrawny little teenager I used to be, to the lean, muscled man I was now. However strange it was, the way I moved was different as well. Not a huge deal, but my poise was more catlike and predatory, a hunter's gait, whereas I used to strut about confidently like I was some bird-of-paradise showing off my feathers. Of course, now I actually had feathers to show off.
I was so close to the mirror now that my nose almost touched the glass. My jaw had changed and now was more chisled than pointed, though still angular, and my already high aristocratic cheekbones were more pronounced and sharp. My nose had lengthened and lost the annoying beaklike appearance, and my eyebrows were perfectly shaped and arched above my grey eyes. Only, my eyes weren't grey anymore. They had turned a silvery color, almost like a liquid. Whorls of white and little flecks of gold swirled in the midst of the platinum orbs, almost glowing. I opened my mouth to ask Whirry to get me a book on veela changes, when I saw that my teeth had changed as well. Now, I take good care of my appearance, and that includes my teeth, but they, like everyone else on Earth, were not perfect. And it bugged me endlessly. Malfoys were supposed to be perfect in every way. This little tiny inconsistancy bothered me. But now, they'd all evened out and were a blinding white, and, as I watched, my canines grew and sharpened till they would stick out from under my upper lip and over my bottom one.
Curious, I raised my hand to my mouth and gently bit it. It drew blood. Even my blood seemed brighter and more vivid. The deep red of the bead of liquid life glittered like a tiny ruby in the sunlight.
Man, my blood was a million times prettier than my pretty-boy father's. Okay, that was a bit mean. I love my father, even though he's a bit . . . er, 'oldfashioned'. I never got why he wore his hair long. Merlin's beard, his hair was longer than Mother's!
Vaguely, I began to wonder what Hermione's blood looked like. I'd already seen it once, when my maniacal aunt tortured her, but I didn't see it up close. Thinking about her blood for some reason made my mouth water. I grimaced and curled my lips back, flashing the milky fangs. I wasn't a vampire for Salazar's sake! Why was I lusting for her blood?
"Whirry?" I called.
"Yes sir?" the little elf perked up from where he'd been dusting.
"Could you go and grab a few books on the topic of veela for me?" I flexed my wings again, marvelling at the shimmering colors bouncing off the icey feathers.
"Of course, sir!" Whirry disapparated with a pop.
I continued to admire myself in the mirror, noting how my skin was still as creamy pale, but there were no longer any bags beneath my eyes. My skin was flawless, smooth and uninterrupted by acne or blemish. I had never had any freckles, and even if I had, they were long gone. My eyelashes had thickened, framing my liquid silver eyes with black, odd since my hair was white-blonde. My eyebrows were a several shades darker than my hair, clearly visible even beneath the flaxen locks. My hair had also grow slightly longer, and fell into place without me even trying, so I decided to stop gelling it into place. It was silky and soft, and I closed my eyes to imagine Hermione running her small delicate fingers through it.
My chest rumbled with a purr reminiscent of a cat's.
I tilted my head in thought. If I could purr and growl, could I snarl and roar as well? And what about bird calls and shrieks? A smirk spread across my inhumanly handsome face and I bared my fangs again and let a ferocious snarl rip out of my throat. I grinned evilly.
Potter and Weasley were in for it this year.
Raising the pitch of my voice and tightening my throat, I let out a high note, almost musical. So I could sing like a bird, but could I shriek like an eagle or falcon? I snarled again, but kept my voice higher. A resounding eagle's cry erupted from my mouth.
Whirry returned just as I was about to try roaring.
"Sir might want to cast some silencing charms," the elf advised. "Mistress wouldn't take it well if sir was to crack the china."
I grinned at the elf.
"Sorry, Whirry," I walked over to the desk where Whirry had set the books. "Thank you for the books, by the way."
"Sir is too kind," the house-elf bowed and disapparated again.
I may not have driven this point home yet, but I really appreciate Whirry. He's the only elf that staye with us after we released them all. They're all cousins and siblings some how, so most of them went to work for Hogwarts with Dobby. All except Whirry. Whirry stayed.
I took the books and sat down on my bed, wondering if I could retract my wings. If not, that would be extremely inconvenient. The books were Veela: A Study on The Most Beautiful Historical Figures, A Veelamate's Guide to Veela Moods(Hermione might appreciate that), A Complete Study of Veela, and the last one was All About Veela: A Guide to Identifying And Understanding.
I tossed aside the first one and took up the third one, A Complete Study of Veela, and opened it, leaning back in the bed and pulling up a blanket to rest the book on. I tapped the book with my wand so it would only show the information on male veela, then flipped the page and began reading.
Veela are possibly the most sought after species of sentient creature, other than the Ancient Dragons and Leviathans. Veela originated from Morgause, sister of Morgana and mother of all veela. Morgause was cursed by Merlin on the command of King Arthur, so as to banish her and turn her into a hag. Unfortunately for Merlin and Camelot, the spell reversed and turned Morgause into an inhumaly beautiful woman whose strength rivalled that of the Giants. However, Morgause fell deeply in love with Merlin and tried to make him fall in love with her, but he spurned her and left her dry. She would not attack Camelot, for fear of hurting her love, so she enchanted herself pregnant and placed a spell on the child; that every child born of her blood would have a soulmate who would only truly love them. The child's name was Vhea, and thus the name 'veela' came about.
A veela (most of the time) has white-blonde, or in come cases silver and/or white hair, and silver eyes. They are taller than most humans and exceptionally beautiful. Their appearance varies, but is consistantly regal and thin. A veela's posture is very predatorial, usually with narrowed or hooded eyes, a halfway open mouth(to scent creatures) and they walk with confident elegance, like that of a wildcat. They are stealthy and cunning creatures, often associated with Salazar Slytherin, as he was a veela.
Veela have elongated canines, fangs, that are used in mating, though a veela may use them for defense and attack.
Veela are very strong creatures, strength akin to centaurs and half-giants. They have the ability to shift into a birdlike form, changing their hands into claws, as well as sprouting wings from their backs. The veela's wings are not only present during attacks and defense, but can be retracted and unfolded at any time. A veela's wings are iridescent, but the color varies on the veela.
A veela has enhanced eyesight, hearing and smell, as well as incredible touch sensitivity. They're adept at detecting poisons, which can be immeasureably helpful. In fact, many a veela become Potion Masters.
Veela also appear to have better and quicker brain function than humans, though it depends on the human. Usually the veela and his mate are on a close intellectual level, so as to be able to keep up with one another.
The sense of smell is regarded as the most potent of the veela's abilities. They can differentiate between their mate, family, close friends and even smell threats. They sense emotion and whether or not the person in front of them is wishing them ill.
A veela's most primal instinct is to mate. Veela are highly physical beings, wanting to be touching their mate at all times. They react quicker than a human, and if their mate is in danger, they will not hesitate to step in front of them or wrap their mate in their wings. A veela's wings are nearly inpenetrable.
Veela and their mates share an empathic bond that takes effect after the first marking and cannot be broken unless one dies. The empathic bond when paired with a veela Legilimens can create telepathy, which is very helpful when understanding the other.
A veela lives for his mate. They will do anything and everything in their power to please their mate and keep them happy. A veela will feel his mate's pain and unhappiness as if it is his own.
The process of veela mating is difficult to write, since it is such a hidden and personal ceremony, but throughout several decades there have been enough accounts that there is sufficiant evidence.
The first step is skin-on-skin contact. The first time a veela touches their mate(after puberty) the veela blood is awakened and they begin to start the transformation slowly. The final transformation happens on the veela's eighteenth birthday.
The second step in the acceptance, where the mate agrees to link themselves forever to the veela.
The third step is the Marking, in which the veela will bite his mate and drink his mate's blood, thus connecting the two. The mate(or submissive veela in the case of both lovers being veela) will then bite the veela(and in the case of the mate being a veela, she will drink his blood) as well.
The fourth is the binding, which is usually marriage, or some binding ceremony of the like. Magic is used during such ceremony, to lengthen both lovers' lives and bestow peace upon the pair. (Or so is legend)
Veela, like vampires, are blood-drinkers. For the first seventeen years of their lives, they eat and drink like a normal human would, but after the transformation, they will start to crave their mate's blood. No other blood with sate the veela's thirst but his mate's. He cannot survive off of any other substance.
I shut the book and yawned, my wings automatically fanning out as I stretched. I wondered how Hermione would take the news that she was my mate. I thought of a million different outcomes, most of them ending up in a passionate snogging sessions. I could almost feel my eyes go black like I'd been told they would in times of intense emotion.
Then I began to wonder what would happen if she rejected me. My heart throbbed painfully at this idea, and my whole body slumped in defeat. How in Salazar's name was I going to convince Hermione Granger that I was hopelessly in love with her and that if she didn't bond with me, I would be subject to a life of utter misery, similar to that of a Dementor's Kiss. How could I do that to her? How could I take away her choice, force her to be mine? I couldn't; like the book said, I lived for her happiness.
Of course, if she decided to marry Weaselbee, I'd probably kill myself out of jealousy, but only because I wouldn't be able to stand the fact that Weasley made her happy when I only made her miserable.
Oh, and then there was the thing about needing her blood to survive. That might be important.
Groaning loudly, I heaved myself up off my bed and made for the door, magicking clothes onto my body. It wouldn't be in my best interest to be late for tea with Mother, she'd have my head.
I inwardly smiled at the welcome sight of the scarlet steam engine called the Hogwarts Express. My mother hurried in through the barrier behind me, ushering me along. She was a short person, though compared to me, most people are short, with long, straight blonde hair and ice blue eyes. She was a regal beauty, I could see her as a queen. Underneath that cold, Malfoy exterior though, was a warm and kind person, one who was beginning to come out of her shell for the first time since my youth.
"Oh, Draco," she fretted, adjusting my already perfect jacket.
"Mother,"I complained quietly, pulling away. "It's fine, you're overthinking this."
"I am not," she replied indignantly. "Hermione is going to adore you. She's such a smart girl, Draco, you couldn't have chosen anyone better!"
"I thought you liked Pansy?" I drawled, rolling my eyes.
"I do like Pansy, she's a sweet girl," Mother sighed and nevously fiddled with a button on my jacket. "But she's not your mate. Hermione will be the perfect match for you, you'll see."
"Does it hurt?" I asked suddenly. Mother looked up and blinked.
"Does what hurt, darling?" she dropped her hands from my jacket(finally).
"Being away from Father," I said quietly.
Mother looked down, biting her lip.
"Yes," she whispered. "It hurts. Not as much as he hurts, as he is deprived my blood, but I too, hurt."
I was silent.
The whistle blew and everyone started rushing to jump onto the train, so I followed, saying a quick goodbye to Mother and stepping onto the red locomotive. As soon as I crossed the threshold, a sweet scent permeated my nostrils. Vanilla and strawberries, with a hint of rosemary and spring water. A clean, fresh, beautiful scent that I knew must be Hermione's. I purred, the smell relaxing me while also making me restless. I was content because I could sense my mate, but restless because I couldn't hold her and feel her. I began walking down the train, following my mate's scent. As I approached the end of the train, a compartment door opened and She-Weasel walked out, followed by Longbottom. She-Weasel looked up and glared at me, flipping her shiny flame hair over her shoulder. I suppose it isn't hard to see why Blaise had such a huge crush on her, even if he denied it, but she wasn't nearly as beautiful as Hermione. Her eyes were too almond-shaped, her hair to smooth and straight. Her face was too narrow and her skin too freckled.
"Malfoy," She-Weasel growled.
I sniffed, disguising it as an arrogant movement, while in reality I was trying to catalog her scent. It was spicy, like a pepper-imp from Honeydukes, with a hint of musk that I assumed was residual from Potter. I could also taste a bit of something mossy and natural, but it was strongest on Longbottom, so that must be his scent. There was a mildly rancid odor, something like a pepper-up potion gone sour, a bit like the chill before a storm. Some kind of threat. Then of course there was Hermione's sweet scent coming from inside the compartment.
"Weaslette," I smirked. "And Longbottom. Hm, I actually don't hate either of you anymore, so you can stopped your teeth-chattering, Longbottom."
Longbottom relaxed slightly, and I noticed his scent grew more calming and cool. She-Weasel on the other hand seemed to tense up, and her scent became more spicy and nose-wrinkling.
"Nice try, ferret." She-Weasel snapped. "I don't trust you."
"I can tell," I said coolly, edging closer to where the compartment door was. As I moved closer I noticed there was another scent, something that I could really only describe as whimsical. A took another sniff, and immediately knew the scent belonged to Luna Lovegood. She was a nice person. There was a trace of her misty scent on Longbottom, so I assumed they were together.
"Where d'you think you're going, Malfoy?" She-Weasel narrowed her cool blue eyes. I used to find blue eyes attractive, but now I found myself wondering what they'd look like if they were a warm, earthy brown.
"Inside," I replied. "I'm going to thank Potter for speaking at my trial, that's not illegal, is it?"
She-Weasel was silent. I nodded curtly to Longbottom, who gave me a tentative smile, before whirling around and opening the door.
Potter was sitting on the right by the window, facing Weaselbee, who was sitting on the left opposite him. The musky scent I'd identified as Potter's wasn't enticing, but it wasn't rancid like the one coming from Weaselbee. Potter's was smooth, but Weaselbee's was spiked and I almost growled when I sniffed it in. I assumed it must be because Potter was with She-Weasel, but Weaselbee was alone, without a female's scent to dull down his natural odor. It was possibly also because he had always been into Hermione, so I saw him as a threat to my courtship.
On the same seat as Weaselbee right beside the door, sat Luna, reading a copy of The Quibbler. Hermione's ginger cat, Crookshanks, sat curled up on the seat beside Potter, calmly pawing at a tiny ball of pink fluff that was burbling happily. Hermione sat next to her cat, rubbing the back of its neck. I vaguely wondered what it would feel like to have Hermione rubbing the back of my neck. A low purr escaped my lips, alerting Luna to my presence.
"Oh, hello there, Draco." she smiled distantly at me.
"Good morning, Luna." I replied, nodding to her politely. She had known me long enough to know that nodding was my way of smiling. "How've you been?"
"Oh, I've been quite good, you know." she set her Quibbler down. "Me and Neville are dating, but you know that of course. Harry and Ginny are dating, again, and Ron and Hermione are both single."
"I figured as much," I said, leaning against the doorway. "Where are Ginevra and Neville going?"
I noticed that my use of their given names startled the other three.
"Oh, Neville lost Trevor again." Luna laughed lightly. "I think the Wrackspurts chased him off."
"Hmm, probably," I grinned. "Are you saving that seat for him?"
I pointed to the seat beside Luna.
"Oh yes, and Crookshanks and Arnold are saving Ginny's seat. I guess you don't want to sit with Ron, so you could sit beside Hermione."
She gave me a very subtle smirk as she suggested this. I figured she must know that I was a veela and that Hermione was my mate, or maybe she just knew that I had had a major crush on Hermione since the day in third year when she slapped me in the face. I smirked right back at the blonde haired girl and sat down purposefully beside Hermione, drowning myself in her additctive scent. She stared at me quizzically, but didn't say anything.
"Get out, you Death Eater," growled Weaselbee, his scent going even more rancid, which caused me to wrinkle up my nose in distaste.
"Ron," Potter warned.
"What?" Weaselbee narrowed his eyes. "And stay away from my girlfriend, ferret."
I raised an eyebrow and leaned back, casually slinging my arm around Hermione's shoulders. She jumped, but didn't remove herself.
"Sure," I said, smirking again. "Who are you dating, Lavender Brown? Or maybe one of the Patils?"
Hermione covered her mouth to hide her smile, but I could tell by her scent that she was amused and seemed appreciative.
"Hermione's my girlfriend," Weaselbee snapped.
(A/N) Aaaaaand done! I hope you enjoyed the pilot chapter of this story, and if you want to see more of it, please review and tell me there or PM me! See ya :3