AN : Hello, it's nice to be back after so long. This is my second story so far and basically it's a Dramione with a HEA guarenteed because I don't like a sad story with heavy angst in it. This story is still a WIP with a halfway plot inside my head. Definitely AU so do not expect me to stick to the original story line by JK, this is after all a fanfic, a wild imagination that running rampant through my head for this past few weeks. I hope that I would be able to keep the characters in line and not too OOC, fair warning beforehand, this story is not in the favour of Ron and Ginny so if you love those character so much, this is not the story for you.

I hope you would love the story and I hope that I'd be able to serve you a good story line and plot. And now to the story... Happy reading and I will keep my fingers cross, hoping that you'll like it... ;-)

Oh, and before I forget:

Disclaimer : I do not own any character and any part of the story that you recognise in this story and I do not gain any financial advantage from this story.

Chapter 1 – She's here finally

Life can be cruel when it wants to be. That's what crossed my mind when everything's finally settled in my brain. You see... my life hasn't been easy, but at least it's better than most people in England. My family - consist of my father, my mother and me – loves each other, in our own different way. Although from the outside people saw us as cold, vicious, and conceited we definitely put our family wellbeing on top priority. It's our way since many generations before us, because we inherit Veela lineage in our blood... The blood that makes us bonded to each other without exception.

So... Where's the problem? You asked. When was life rear its ugly head to me? That... would be a little longer to explain.

Before I told you about my problem, I think I must explain about Veela and our custom a bit further. A man with Veela trait only mate with one woman for as long as he lives, there'll be no other for him. He, with his mate, are capable of produce many children, but there'll only be one son as a first born. Any other child after the firstborn, if they were lucky enough, will always be a girl.

A son, the heir, must find his mate or he'll die slowly but surely. The record showed that the longest a male Veela can live without finding his mate is until he was 25 years old. It varies from one individual to the other. When a male Veela found his mate, he will find himself drawn to her, feel a compulsion to protect her at all cost, and feel the first stir of lust for her. But, he only can recognised his mate if the girl in question already came to adulthood and that, by the Veela standard, means the girl already had her first menstruation cycle. So, if he'd already met his mate before she came to adulthood the first binding will not happen at the time.

Historically, when the mate also has Veela blood in her there'll be no struggle, she will comply immediately to him, although a female Veela doesn't need to find a mate herself. But when the mate is purely human there were some cases in which the story didn't reach a happy ending. Some of the female mate refused to be bound to the Veela, condemned him to death sentence. Some other stories said that, a refused Veela turn into madness, killed the girl, and ended his life.

That was where my problem laid. My father said that my inner Veela will choose the most compatible girl to be my mate, take into consideration every aspects of me. Well, I have found my mate. Surely, I've found her. It couldn't be denied. But to put it literally, I've found her in the most unattainable girl alive. My inner self most assuredly jeopardise my chance in happiness...

It's on the train ride to Hogwarts for our 6th year education when I found her. Not in the sense of first meeting her, because we already knew each other since our first year. But alas, we knew each other not in a friendly term.

At the time, I walked along the corridor of the train, bored to death by my usual company. Crabbe and Goyle, being their usual selves occupied their time with either sleeping or stuffing their mouths with foods. The Parkinson girl, she is definitely another case of revolting air-headed bimbo. Her simpering upon me finally became unbearable and made me end up in this excursion.

That's when I heard raised voices from one of the compartment, the door was slightly ajar and the occupants weren't care enough to make sure their arguments was kept between them. I heard her voice first, bickering with the redhead git. My ears perked up, I didn't care about their bickering but I enjoyed every opportunity I've got to goad those Gryffindors to their limits. I believed this is one of my chances to taunt her once again. If there's a hex or two in the process, it wouldn't matter as long as I got a chance to see her riled up expression.

I brought myself close to the slightly ajar door, leaned in to hear the conversation better. Their bickering continued without pause, too deeply strangled in their hostility towards each other to realize there was a third party to watch their spat of verbal assault.

"You're a bloody git! How could you accuse me of doing a plastic surgery to myself?" She said. I wondered what the hell plastic surgery is and I bet with the sound that came out of the git's mouth, he didn't know either. "You know what; you suppose to believe me when I said that I'm not doing any of it. You're supposed to be my friend!" She exclaimed, "Put in that thick head of yours: I grew up over the summer and got the best improvement by it!"

"I can't believe that you inclined to believe the rumour that was started by that floozy brained Brown!" She said in an indignant voice, "You, of all people, should've known that I'd rather be appreciated for my brain instead for my looks."

"I only meant it in a good way..." The git said.

"Meant it in a good way?" She shrieked, "What is good in suggesting that your best friend had finally came to her senses and put her brain into some good use by applying beauty charms to her body? Just you know Ronald Billius Weasley, I have no need in a beauty charm as you put it. And there's definitely no enchantment anywhere in my body." With the last punctuation on her speech, she cast a very powerful jinx to the git and tried to storm out of their compartment.

I must put an underline at the word 'tried', because in her haste and fury she seemed to lost her balance and stumble out of her compartment, bumped her head to the door frame, lost her consciousness, and ended up literally in my arms.

On the tip of my tongue I almost yell 'What the hell...' but when I caught a whiff of her scent, a lingering combination of white nettle, seaweed, and aloe vera plus a subtle scent of an ancient tome's parchment. I froze...

Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to protect this girl in my arms from any harm, cherish her, love her, and devote myself to her. I felt a jolt of possessiveness within my heart, a stir that never happened before and it made me correct my posture. I put a protective arms around her, drew her closer to my body, and for the first time I realized what's these feeling means. This is it... I found her, my mate, my other half. She's here, finally...

I looked down to her face and marvelled with what I saw. She seemed so different; her features seemed to be thoroughly enhanced over the summer. Her skin felt so soft and flawless, her body supple and firm, and her face... She was always pretty before, but now... with her brown hair tamed into soft ringlets, small delectable lips, pointy nose, and natural curve of her eyebrows... She became beautiful, exquisite. She has matured in a very short time, her body at least. For I knew that she was always been wise beyond her years spiritually.

As my eyes roamed over her face I jolted into reality when the scar head came barrelling out of the compartment and demanded that I unhanded her at once. "Not in a million years Potter!" I snapped at him, not realizing that he was also in the compartment all this time, "She was just running out of your compartment to avoid the Weasel. It wouldn't be wise to put her near that git. I won't hand her over."

"What's in it for you, ferret? You always deem her unworthy of your lot and now suddenly you'd be her knight in the shining armour?" He said sarcastically but then seemed trying to restrain his self, "Look, let's get over this for now. She needs to be tended to, I'm afraid she had a concussion."

His words made me snapped out of my defensive stance. I looked down again to her face and gasp, how could I not notice it before. I'm so stupid! I berated myself. There it was a swelling bump on her forehead. She'd definitely bumped her head with force. My body jerked into action, I lifted the rest of her body from the floor into my arms, and I started to stride with a full force.

"Where do you think you're going?" The scar head said, with one of his hand hold my arm.

"I'm taking her to the infirmary compartment, where else?" I said, lost my patience with the boy. "If you don't move your hand quickly, I'll hex you Potter!" When he gaped at me and slackened his grip on my arm, I restarted my stride and with a full speed I carried my mate to the mediwitch. I could feel Potter was following me from a distance, but I really don't care right at that moment. My first priority was to get medical treatment for the girl in my arms as soon as possible.

When I arrived to the infirmary compartment, the scar head hurriedly passed me to slide the door open. For the first time, I felt gratitude for him. I strode in hastily, startling Madam Pomfrey from idleness to alertness in mere seconds.

"What happened?" She asked, gesturing for me to place my beloved on the bed.

"She bumped her head when she tried to get out of her compartment in a hurry." I replied.

Madam Pomfrey bended over to examine her head and exclaimed in surprise, "Miss Granger!" She spun her head so quickly to see me, a flitting of suspicion cross her eyes. But then she saw the scar head in the room and didn't comment further, instead pouring her skill diligently to find what's wrong with Hermione.

Yes, it is Hermione to me now... It's strange to say it with my mouth but at the same time it feels so right. She's my mate after all, so I thought that I had a privilege to call her that or something else more private for only the two of us.

There, I said it out loud... The most untouchable girl there is in the face of the earth is my mate... My Hermione. As if I'm a junky to the impossible, my Veela side attached me to her in the most irreversible way...

AN: I'd really like to hear your comment on the story and since this story is un-BETA-ed I hope that I'll find somebody to help me with it... Thanks so much for reading! See you...