Veela For A day
Veela For a Day
By: Tammyfait69
I own none of the HP characters. They are the property of JK Rowling. This story is not written for profit, just for fun!
M for lemons & language
Pairing: Draco M. & Hermione G.
This is my first ever story. I'm so nervous, but I had this little plot bunny running around, so I thought what he hell, I'll try writing it. Hope ya'll enjoy this bit of crazy. The story takes place post Battle of Hogwarts in the (infamous?) 8th year. Hermione and Draco have both returned to finish their schooling and share the Head Girl & Head Boy dorm.
XXOOXX
Chapter 1.
Hogwarts: December 28th, 1998: Head Dorm.
The castle was eerily silent since most of the students had not yet returned from Christmas break. Draco Malfoy was in the head dorm reading a book for his potions class while his dorm mate, Hermione Granger, studied for her upcoming Arithmancy exam. Their room was quiet, with the only sound being the crackle of the fire burning in the central fireplace. Draco was enjoying the comfortable silence, it had not always been so between he and Granger. Technically, he was not even supposed to be back at Hogwarts yet, but he had returned from visiting his mother earlier that same day, having cut his visit short when Narcissa had begun to nag him to accompany her on her visit with his father in Azkaban.
Draco had no intention of seeing Lucius this Christmas or next for that matter, and he would not have his mother press him into such a thing. His father had destroyed their family with his worship of Voldemort and his lust for dark power. It had nearly gotten Draco killed and had definitely robbed him of a substantial part of his childhood; much of which the blond wished he could change now.
Since the war, Draco had changed. Oh, he was still arrogant and entitled and he could be a right prick at times, but the racist, pureblood elitism that had been such a big part of his personality and identity had been permanently scourged from his belief system. The horrors he had witnessed when Voldemort commandeered his family's home during the war had forever altered the young man's perception; he had witnessed too many muggles and muggleborn wizard and witches tortured and killed for nothing more than amusement not to have realized they bled the same as he did—red.
It was with his newfound perspective that he applied for and then accepted the Head Boy position when he returned to finish his schooling, despite knowing that Hermione Granger would be Head Girl. Sharing the head position meant they would be sharing a common room for the school year and Draco wanted to use the opportunity to make a better impression on Granger. After what she had endured at the hands of his crazy Aunt Bellatrix, while he sat there useless and cringing, weighed heavy on his conscience. He felt he owed her…something. What? He wasn't sure; at the very least an apology and some respect for the bright witch she was.
From his position on the couch, his eyes sought her out at the table where she sat, a hefty book opened before her, taking a million detailed notes as usual. Salazar help her if she did not take proper notes on everything! Some things would never change. However, others did, and Draco had taken note of Granger's transformation. The naïve Gryffindor righteousness had been wiped from her eyes and sometimes she would stare off into space, a frown marring her brow as if wrestling with some internal struggle. Of course, innocence lost was a common result of growing up, but Granger's melancholy wasn't the stuff of normal teen angst. No, hers, like his own, bore the brand of being forced into a gruesome reality not of their making; they'd both seen (and done) things during Voldemort's war that no one should ever see (or do). He was certain she had her own battle scars, hidden ones, not as noticeable or apparent perhaps as the one on her arm, but there nonetheless.
One of the most intriguing and, in Draco's opinion, more positive changes came in her approach to her studies. She was not nearly as serious or intense as she used to be spending all her waking hours in the library. She was still a studious student and completed her assignments weeks in advance, that would never be altered, it was who she was, but she did not leap up from her seat with her hand in the air for each and every sodding question asked like a know-it-all swat anymore.
Thank fucking Salazar!
He used to detest that. He supposed living each day as if it might be your last for a year would make you appreciate being able to relax and enjoy life a bit. He knew the war had given him a new appreciation for the little things that had not seemed important before but now made all the difference.
Physically, she had transformed as well. Gone was the girl whose bushy hair had always reminded him of an angry kneazle atop her head. In her place was a witch with lush curls that cascaded to her shoulders, a toned figure, a tiny waist and legs so long the image of them wrapped around his waist often kept him up at night. She was actually rather fit, and much to his surprise, he had found himself being distracted by her more and more as the year progressed. She didn't know it, but Hermione was a large part of Draco's transformation. He would never forget the day she had been taken prisoner and brought to the manor. Her screams still echoed in his head and he would never forget the disgust he felt as Aunt Bella carved the word "mudblood" into the young witch's arm; the odious word had not passed his lips since. He was determined it never would either.
"You're staring."
Her words startled him, drawing him from his musing and he shook his head to clear it. "Huh? What did you say?"
"I said," Hermione replied, setting her quill down and turning her caramel colored gaze Draco's way, "you're staring at me. Why?"
To his horror, Draco felt his cheeks warm. "You're barmy! I wasn't staring at you," He hotly denied, hoping she believed him. It would not do for Granger to realize he had a bit of a "thing" for her.
No. Not at all.
"Oh really? Then what were you looking at?"
Draco thought quickly. His eyes lit on the calendar pinned above her head and he smirked. "The calendar," he replied. "I was looking at the calendar, Granger. Get over yourself, would you?"
She glanced behind her at the magical creatures calendar on the bulletin board, watching as the unicorn for January moved, galloping about and tossing it's horned head. It was not an overly large calendar… She turned back to Draco, a brow raised suspiciously. "Then your eye sight must be spectacular if you can read it from where you are sitting."
He shrugged without replying. It wasn't the best excuse, but she couldn't disprove his story, so he was sticking with it.
XXOOXX
Hermione was not sure if she believed him. She was not conceited by any means, but she was almost certain Draco had been looking at her and not the calendar as he claimed.
Why wouldn't he simply admit it? They got along well enough now that he could speak openly with her. Did they not?
Hermione felt they had come far since school started, indeed, her feelings for him had changed drastically.
When she had discovered she would be sharing Head duties with Draco Malfoy, she had nearly turned down the position of Head Girl. The war, being tortured in his house, (she did not blame him for that, but still… it had been a harrowing ordeal) and the years of bad blood (pun intended) between them had made her wary of blond Slytherin. She had honestly believed they could not get on well enough to perform their duties responsibly. In the end, McGonagall had persuaded her and despite Hermione's misgivings she'd decided to give him a chance.
At first, they barely spoke. In the first few weeks, they said maybe two words to each other in passing each day. They were respectful of each other but kept interaction at a minimum. She was pleasantly surprised to find he was a very decent dorm mate. He never called her names or besmirched her heritage anymore. He asked permission to use her things or read her books and she never had to clean up after him, which had surprised her considering his background of being rich and spoiled.
As the weeks passed, they began to interact more, forming a routine which included morning tea, study times and (gasp) intelligent conversation during and in between. He was smart, but she had always known that. He was second in their class only to her, but it was not merely book smarts he possessed. He had common sense as well. And since they were both creative, well-informed and resourceful they debated often and because they were also opinionated and stubborn, their discussions could be intense and devolve into bickering too. Generally, they argued meaningful topics and Hermione had been pleased to discover Draco could logically communicate his point of view without resorting to verbal bashing; he did use wit and charm to sway her opinion sometimes, but never insults.
She could not deny she enjoyed verbally sparring with him.
In fact, she enjoyed their arguments so much she often introduced a topic on purpose just to get a rise from him; she suspected he did the same, especially after he brought up her work in fourth year for S.P.E. W. just last week. His irritating comment of "Hermione, house elves like to serve. Haven't you realized that yet? You're simply being cruel to try and force them into freedom" had started one of their most intense rounds of verbal warfare to date. Shockingly, he had given her food for thought when he had argued that while she had good intentions regarding elfish rights, she did not understand elf culture and her S.P.E.W. work had actually forced a peaceful group into a political battle they had not wanted. In the end, they'd agreed to disagree. She still thought elves should be freed, but he had presented a valid point regarding how not to go about it.
In truth, he intrigued her, and the more she got to know him, the more she realized how drastically he had overhauled most of his core values without losing who he was. He may not be the malicious little ferret who had bullied her, but he was still Malfoy through and through. He was cocky, arrogant, sarcastic and an insufferable git sometimes, like when he told her to "get over herself". And, he could inevitably make her lose the plot when he'd arch his haughty brow, look down his patrician nose and curl his lip in that smug looking smirk of his; he might as well use 'incendio' on her. It would have the same effect. Their disputes would get terribly fiery then and they'd have to retreat to neutral corners until cooler heads could prevail; thankfully, those incidents had become fewer and farther between. She did find it easier to accept his autocratic personality traits by coming to understand they were a result of his pureblood upbringing and part of who he was, like his DNA. Just as her endless curiosity, dogged determination and forgiving nature were the traits that made her Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. While she saw them as positives, she knew Draco had other adjectives to describe her—"know it all swot" came to mind, as she'd heard that one enough. However, despite their clashes, they were learning to accept each other's flaws. They weren't friends per se, but they weren't enemies any longer either.
It was a work in progress not perfection.
'Now, if only she could get over the ridiculous little crush she'd developed, she'd be especially chuffed,' she thought, taking a quick peek at the blond wizard who was now reading his book in front of the fire.
Merlin. He was handsome.
He had grown a few inches and filled out since they last shared a classroom. He was still slim, he had a seeker's body rather than a muscular one, but he was no longer skinny. His sleek muscles were whipcord lean, with a six pack she could bounce a galleon off of. Hermione had learned of these developments to his physique when her loo was on the fritz and had accidentally walked in on him getting out of the shower when she thought to use his. It had been a tragically embarrassing moment and which of them had been more stunned, Hermione was not certain, but the sight of him in all his wet, naked glory had left a lasting impression. One thing was certain…Draco Malfoy was definitely easy on the eyes.
And that revelation was the most shocking of all.
Just a few months ago, if someone had told her that she, Hermione Granger, would fancy Draco sodding Malfoy, she'd have had that individual shipped off to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's for some much-needed observation! And yet, that was exactly the circumstance she found herself. She thought he was decidedly sexy and had taken to fantasizing about him; adding to her shame, he was usually starkers in her dirty little imaginings! Worse, her secret fantasies and what she wanted him to do to her in them had her tossing and turning at night, dreaming of them together and interrupting her sleep; it was disconcerting to say the least.
Oh, if Harry and Ron could hear her now.
With a loud sigh, that drew Draco's eyes to her, Hermione shook off her troubled thoughts. There was no help for her affliction presently, and before he caught her staring, (mortifying thought after she'd just called him out for it) she went back to her book on Arithmancy and resumed her studying.
XXOOXX
December 28th, 1998. Knockturn Alley.
It was nearing midnight when a short, wiry wizard entered the darkened area next to Borgin and Burkes looking for the customer he was supposed to meet. The poor light made the black-market dealer's haggard face appear gaunter than it was. "Psst, you here?" He hissed, looking around warily.
Pansy Parkinson stepped from the shadows. "I'm here," she said. "Do you have it?"
"I got it," the dealer replied, pulling a small light purple vial out and holding it up so the dim light from the street caught the swirling pink liquid inside and made it sparkle. His fist closed around the vial. "You got the payment?"
Pansy pulled a rather large purse from her robes. "A thousand galleons as requested."
The man handed Pansy the vial as she gave him the purse in exchange.
She held it up towards the light to get a better look at the effervescent bright pink mist within. "And you're certain this is the real thing?" Parkinson asked before the man could leave.
He nodded his shaggy grey-haired head. "Finest magically enhanced Veela pheromones to be had on the black market. A drop of this on your neck and the bloke you're after won't be able to resist ya."
"Magically enhanced?" Pansy queried, a brow raised.
"Yes. The liquid pheromone was blended with pearl dust and crushed moonstone; then spelled with a lust charm for maximum effect." Her pointed to the vial in Pansy's hand. "That's a potent mix, girly," the man warned. "Only a drop is needed. Put it on your neck or on your wrist when you got the bloke within a few feet of ya and Bob's your uncle, he'll melt like butter in your hand."
A crafty smile curled Pansy's lips. 'Draco won't know what hit him!' "Anything else I need to know?" she asked.
"No, just heed the warning about the amount you use. Any more than a drop and it won't just be your target taking notice. The pheromones attract through the senses. Too much and it'll be any bloke within fifty feet hounding you like you're a bitch in heat."
Making a face at his crudeness, Pansy pocketed the vial. "How long does it last?"
He shrugged. "It varies. One client said four to five hours, another said seven or eight hours." He leered at the pug faced witch. "Trust me, it'll last plenty to get your bloke in the sack for a shag."
"It better work," Pansy said, her disgust for the ragged little man obvious
"It will. Just remember what I said. One drop, no more."
Pansy nodded. "Yes. Yes. I heard you the first time."
"Pleasure doin' business wit' ya, girly," the dealer said, showing his rotting teeth when he grinned.
Pansy grimaced, resisting her gag reflex as his breath wafted her way. "I'll let you know if I need more," she said and hastily made her exit.
"Oh, you'll be wantin' more, I'm certain…" the man called after her.
Pansy ignored him and hurried from the area known for its catering to the dark arts and back to Daigon Alley, a far more respectable area for a young pureblooded witch. When she was away from the nasty dealer and the scene of her 'crime', she patted her pocket that had the potion. Pansy could barely contain her excitement. Draco had been ignoring her efforts to rekindle their romance and it was driving her spare.
"Let's see him refuse me now," she said to herself, eager to return to school.
XXOOXX
December 29th, 1998: Head Dorm.
His mouth was heavenly. Hot and insistent as he took hers with deep, wet kisses. She buried her fingers in his silky hair, clutching him to her while his tongue mated with hers, snogging her within an inch of her life. A soft gasp of pleasure left her as his hands traveled over her flesh, gliding along her taut belly to her breasts. He palmed them both, tweaking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger while he maneuvered himself between her spread thighs.
Sweet Godric she had never felt so excited!
Hermione moaned when his heavy erection nudged her wet center and she arched her hips eagerly, seeking more of him. "Merlin, yes!" she whimpered softly, dragging her nails up his sleekly muscled back to grab hold of his shoulders. She felt him prodding her entrance and spread her legs wider to accommodate him.
"Please." She was beyond reason or sanity. She needed him…now. "Please, Draco."
"Hermione," he growled, brushing his soft lips over hers once again. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Merlin yes!"
He braced himself above her and she could see his handsome face in the moonlight, his blond hair wildly messy from her hands grabbing it. He smiled. "Good," he said and thrust forward.
In her bed, twisted amongst her covers, Hermione bolted upright with a sob; sweating and flustered, she trembled, sexual frustration clawing at her insides.
She glanced at her magical clock. 3 AM. She ran a hand through her messy hair. "Sweet baby dragons! Will it ever end?"
She wanted to have a good cry about the entire situation, unsure if she wanted to shed tears because she always woke up before the really good parts, or because she continued to dream of naked Malfoy night after night. Either way, the dreams were becoming more in-depth, more heated and she had begun to look at him differently. Imagining if his lips were really as soft as they were in her dreams. Was his hair as baby fine and silky? Thanks to her ill-timed bathroom visit, she knew his—
Hermione stopped herself right there. Merlin! She was actually sitting here thinking of Malfoy's manly bits. These dreams were making her barmy!
Too worked up to sleep any longer, she got out of bed. She was dressed in soft pajama bottoms with little pink hearts and a red tank. The temperature outside the warmth of her bedding was significantly chillier so she pulled a jumper over her shirt and put her hair in a quick pony tail before grabbing her wand and heading out of her private room towards the small kitchenette provided for them. Hermione was fixing herself a cup of tea when she saw Draco plodding down the staircase from the upper floor living quarters as well. She gulped. He was dressed in a pair of dark green pajama bottoms and no shirt. Quidditch has been good to him and his pecs. She noticed his wand tucked into the waistband of his bottoms before she averted her gaze; the memory of her dream making her blush.
It would not do for Draco Malfoy to catch her ogling his chest like some kind of Quidditch groupie! No. It would not do at all.
"Couldn't sleep either," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way to the tea kettle.
"Something like that," she replied. "There's enough for another cup. If you'd like."
He peered inside and then sniffed the pot. "Earl Grey?"
She nodded, a small smile curling her lips. Earl Grey made with leaves not bags. She knew it was his favorite.
Draco fixed himself a cup, ignoring Hermione's head shake when he added (what she deemed) an ungodly amount of milk.
Hermione couldn't help herself, she had to ask. "How can you drink it like that?"
He shrugged and then smirked at her. "What, have you a thing against blond, Granger?"
Her face flushed hot as the phrase 'quite the opposite in fact' flitted across her mind. "Never mind," she said primly. "I suppose this is one of those horses for courses moments, yeah?"
"We all have our quirks," he said, surreptitiously checking out her pajama bottoms. "You have a hankering for hearts. I like my tea sweet and blond."
She took her cup and sat down at the small table, curling her hands around the china, absorbing its heat.
"Why don't you use a warming charm?" Before she could answer, he pulled his wand from his pants and muttered the incantation. Hermione immediately felt warmer.
"Thank you," she said as he took a seat opposite her, laying his wand on the table.
"I can't understand why you insist on freezing when you know a perfectly good incantation to stay warm."
She shrugged. "Sometimes I just like to do things the old-fashioned way."
"You mean the muggle way," he said.
Her brow shot up. "Do you have a problem with the muggle way?"
Draco held his hands up as if in surrender. "That's not what I said, Granger. I've actually found some muggle things aren't half bad."
"Like what?" she asked, genuinely curious regarding what Malfoy could like that was muggle created.
"Well…" He ran a hand through his bed mussed blond hair, giving it that just rolled out of bed after a good shag look.
Hermione bit her lip and swallowed back the little moan that seemed desperate to leak out her mouth.
"Their books for one," Draco said, regaining her wandering attention. He took a sip of his tea as he went on. "I read 'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' by Robert Louis Stevenson recently and found I enjoyed it very much. I've also read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and Moby Dick by Herman Melville."
Hermione's eyes widened, showing her surprise. Draco Malfoy was a secret muggle book worm. It was further proof he had changed. "I loved Alice in Wonderland," she said.
He gave a small laugh. "Carroll had to be a wizard," he said, fiddling with the handle on his cup. "No one's imagination can be that nutters!"
Hermione chuckled. "That or he was on some very powerful muggle drugs!"
His brow furrowed, and the haughty pureblood expression of superiority washed over his features for a moment before it was gone. "That is a muggle pastime I choose not to partake in."
"I should hope not," she replied, scandalized.
He grinned at her. "What was your favorite character from Alice's Adventures?" He snapped his fingers. "Don't tell me…the Cheshire cat, it sounds as hideously large as that thing," he said, pointing to Crookshanks, who was presently sleeping on one of the arm chairs adjacent to the fireplace.
"Crookshanks is not hideous," she replied, defending her pet. "He's perfectly plump."
He snorted. "You're obviously one of those glass half full kind of people, aren't you?"
Hermione didn't reply to his comment and after a moment Draco prodded her for an answer to his previous question. "So, what was your favorite character? Was it Alice? Or perhaps the gryphon? You are a Gryffindor after all."
She shook her head. "Too easy. Guess again."
"The white rabbit, then?"
"Unh-uh," she said, smirking now.
"Well, if it's the sodding Queen of Hearts or that barmy hookah smoking caterpillar then you were definitely sorted wrong."
She giggled. "None of the above. Give up?"
He sighed. "Not quite." He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side as he studied her.
Hermione shifted in her seat, a tad uncomfortable to be under such intense scrutiny from his mercurial grey eyes.
Suddenly he started to grin again. "I got it. The Hatter?"
Hermione laughed. "Yes," she admitted.
"Why the Hatter?" He asked. "He's a bit around the twist. Nothing at all like you."
"He doesn't obsess over having the answers to all life's riddles." She shrugged. "There are times I wish I could be like that."
"Never happen. It's not in your nature to leave a question unanswered."
She was more than a bit stunned he seemed to know that about her. "But, I would like to be more relaxed…"
He suddenly started to laugh, and she scowled at him. "What's so funny?" she asked, offended.
"Nothing, it's just…" He paused, shaking his head. "Granger, you're the most determined person I've ever met. If there's a mystery or question about, you will not stop until you find the solution."
"And why is that funny?"
"Because I imagine the Hatter's unanswered riddle regarding the raven and the writing desk must have driven you spare the first time you read the book!"
Seeing the humor in his reaction, she started to chuckle as well. "It did," she confessed leaning forward as if telling him a secret. Draco put his elbows on the table and leaned forward too. "I couldn't sleep until I had hunted down Lewis Carroll's answer to that confounded thing after I was done reading the book."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and nodded as if she had just proved his point for him. "And how old were you?"
She looked down, flushing, but smiling too. "Five."
He began to laugh again. This time Hermione joined in.
They were silent for a few minutes, but it was a comfortable silence surprisingly.
Draco broke it. His curiosity getting the better of him. "Granger, why did you return to school early?"
She let out a long sigh. "Ron and I…well, we decided we were better off as friends…" She shrugged. "It just felt a little awkward after that, so I returned here."
He smirked. "Did you finally realize if you kiss a weasel you'll catch fleas?"
She rolled her eyes. "Malfoy," she chided. "Please refrain from making derogatory remarks about my ex-boyfriend. I may not be dating, Ronald anymore, but he is still my friend."
He shook his head. "Next you'll be asking me to refrain from taking the piss out of Potter too."
"Yes. Thank you, Malfoy. I would like that very much," Hermione replied, her voice syrupy sweet as was her smile. "I should hope for my friends to get along."
Draco's eyes widened. "Is that what we are now?" He paused for a moment before adding, "friends?"
Hermione worried her bottom lip. Had she spoken too soon? "Well, we aren't enemies anymore…are we?"
She held her breath, waiting for him to answer.
Draco seemed to ponder it for a second before he exhaled softly. "No. I suppose we aren't."
Her face brightened instantly. "Good. Then perhaps as my new friend you could refrain from picking on my old friends."
He leaned back and grinned unrepentantly, shaking his head at her. "Don't hold your breath, Granger. I'm not a bloody saint. Asking me to play nice with Potty and the Weasel is simply too much."
Hermione sighed. Baby steps, she reminded herself. They weren't hexing each other, and he just somewhat accepted they were friends. That was more than she'd expected. They could revisit the Harry and Ron argument at another time.
In her happiness to have peace with her dorm mate, it didn't occur to Hermione that by wanting Draco to be friends with her "boys" it could be implied that she was expecting the Slytherin to have a permanent place in her life where he would interact with Harry and Ron. Had she realized how intriguing her request was to the blond sitting across from her, she might not have been smiling as brightly.
