A/N: Hey everybody! This is my first fanfic, so PLEASE go easy on me. I have been reading Harry Potter fanfics for almost a year now, but I have yet to read one which has Hermione as the Veela, and not Draco (What? Do people think Hermione isn't hot enough?) and if you have read a fanfic in which Hermione is the Veela please PM me the story name or leave it in a review NOW ON TO THE STORY!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter all rights go to its rightful owners.

Chapter 1: In Which I Have Murderous Thoughts

"WHAT. THE. HELL." I enunciated dangerously through my clenched teeth.

"Now, Hermione, watch your language," my mother said nervously ", and please, don't be rash," she said glancing at my raised wand, "I admit, we should have told you sooner, but…."

"But what?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Well, it's not the easiest thing in the world admitting to your daughter, who also happens to be the smartest witch of her generation, that her mother was a squib, you know," she explained in one breath, looking at the look in my eyes and then my wand, again and again.

"Yes, Hermione," my father chimed in, "I expected more of you, don't you know how hard it is for your mother to admit this to you?" he shook his head while sending me a highly disappointed look.

That stopped me in my tracks for a moment, but just a moment, before I remembered the real reason I wanted to murder myself and then come back from the dead just to haunt the living daylights of my dearest parents ( I 'm using sarcasm in case you didn't notice).

FLASHBACK

I walked into my house after shopping at Diagon Alley for the past hour. I was nervous about returning to Hogwarts. I had decided to repeat 7th year because I was battling Voldemort and his followers last year, leaving no time for normal stuff, like returning to Hogwarts, and I wasn't sure that anybody else that had been busy with the war had decided to come back for their 7th year. I knew that Ron and Harry had decided not to because they thought it was pointless, since they already had secure jobs as aurors tracking down stray Death Eaters.

I looked up to see both of my parents sitting on the red living room couch, both with anxious looks on their faces that mirrored each others. This could not be good. I stared at them, waiting for them to tell me that one of our relatives had died, or something of that matter

"What's wrong?" I asked, breaking the silence in the room.

They glanced at each other. "Hermione, we have something of very great importance to tell you." My father started

"Please don't be mad that we didn't tell you this sooner." My mom said.

Was I adopted? Did I have an older sister that was a juvenile delinquent and was rotting in jail? A thousand possibilities passed through my head before my mom continued.

"Hermione," my mom took a big breath, " your grandmother was a Veela and your grandfather was a wizard." Well that made sense, considering my grandma and my grandpa had already passed away by the time I was born.

"But wait; wouldn't that make you a witch or a Veela or something?" I asked her.

She took another deep breath and looked me in the eyes. "Hermione, I was a squib. I'm sorry if that disgusts you, but I'm still the same person I was yesterday."

"Oh mom, how could you even think that? I've always been ridiculed for being a muggleborn, but I've never let it get to me." I said sitting down beside her on the couch, "but why are you telling me all this now?" I questioned.

"My family history makes you a Veela, dear," she said looking at the ground.

Rage started to build inside me. How dare she keep this from me for so long? I also had another thought, were boys falling at my feet because of that? I had thought it was just a side-effect of being a part of the Golden Trio, was I a late-bloomer in the Veela department? But then I remembered my parents.

END OF FLASHBACK

"But you just told me that I'm a frickin' veela!" I said (ok shrieked) in a blind rage, the whole time stalking closer to my parents, "and you're saying I don't have the right to be angry?" by now I had them backed into a corner.

Trembling in fear, my father spoke up. "B-but darling-"

"I'm not hearing it. You two are going to be Petrificus Totalased for a long, long time."

I focused my 'Die-A-Painful-Death-While-I-Laugh-Evilly' glare on him.

"But dear, if you do that, then you won't know about your mate." My mom said frustratingly calmly.

"My what?" I hissed.

"Your mate," my mom repeated, suddenly looking very sad, "if you don't find a mate till the time you're nineteen, well then you'll be in some serious trouble."

I froze in my tracks, my anger forgotten, "What kind of trouble?" I asked, dreading the answer.

I had been through Voldemort and hundreds of Death Eaters; this couldn't be that bad, right? RIGHT?

"The-then you'll…" my mom started.

Quite suddenly, my mom broke down crying, her knees giving out under her. My feelings waged a war inside me, to just leave her there or to calm her. Concern won (hey, I'm not that heartless).

" Mummy?" I said, using the word I used for her when I was younger, which just made her sob harder. "Mom? What's wrong? What happened?" I kneeled beside her, holding her and patting her back.

"The-then you'll die." She stuttered out between the violent sobs racking her body.

"What?" I asked, stunned.

So? Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Or think I could do better? Please R&R (no flames, only constructive criticism please! "-"I think it's going a little TOO slowly, so tell me what you think. Plus, I'm only 13 so please don't ask me to do any melons for this story This is T-rated and will stay that way!

XXO- Abi