Author's Note: I... feel like writing another story. Don't worry though! I'll definitely keep working on this!
Enjoy.
Chapter One
Eight Years Old
"A Veela's human form is always physically appealing, tending towards the lighter side with a notable deviation to darkness in the Pacific Islands (see pg. 180 Magical Mutations). A full Veela is able to transform into a secondary battle form. In this form their arms shift into large wings 6-7 feet long, similar to a harpy's (see pg. 153 Harpies). Their head becomes animorphed, with a raptor beak. Veela have a mild fire affinity.
The part Veela are unable to fully transform, and have retractable wings that generally reach a few inches past their fingers with their arms spread. Even so, the only other diminish of ability is their lesser affinity to fire magic.
Veela have two notable powers, Attraction and Allure. The biological pheromones of Attraction affect all genders and species including bestial, but only cause the Veela to seem sexually attractive when exuded with with the intent to mate. At other times it works to make the Veela seem harmless and a nonthreat. As of this time it is harvestable and can be used in potions (see Ingredient Auras: How to Amplify Them, by Henry Figgins). Their mental Allure only affects sentient males (see Females and Occlumency, by Aurelia Backwood). The Veela gene is passed down through the female line. There are no known male Veela.
Much like wizard and wand, if their wild magic encounters a male of a sentient species that has inner magic with similar wavelengths, it will immediately attach and bond. There is no known way to break the bond without killing the Veela or driving her insane. This bond is believed to have developed from the instinctual need to produce only strong and attractive offspring with complementary traits from both parents, as full Veela are not very fertile (see Zoomorphism and Fertility, by Selena Bobcat).
Once bonded, the Mate becomes immune to the mental Allure as a side effect of the bond, but is still attracted by their Attraction."-Magical Beings, Creatures, and Beasts, by Louise Fennel.
Draco snapped his book shut with a frown. He didn't entirely understand what he read, but Maman said he was part Veela so this must be important to him. Maman should be able to tell him more.
Draco scooted himself off his entirely too large bed and before reaching the door, tiptoeing past several hazardously stacked book piles ranging from topics like magical herbs to astronomy. He would have liked to research spells as well, but apparently if one isn't able to practice spells immediately after learning the words associated with them, it would mess with one's conception of the spell, making it harder to perform later.
Draco didn't really understand that either, but Maman assured him it was true, so he didn't research spells.
Draco traversed several empty hallways before entering a large room with a high ceiling covered in plant like designs. He liked to call it the 'Green Room', because that was the color of the walls, ceiling, and floor.
Only inside his head, though. Maman had laughed at him the last time he told her the name.
"Maman," Draco said quietly, but even so his voice echoed slightly. The Manor was empty but for for them and the house elves. Father had left just a few hours earlier to give a statement for the Daily Prophet, denouncing Weasley's 'ludicrous claims of muggle attack enablement by purebloods.' That was another thing he didn't really understand, but Maman had told him that Father was just in one of his moods, so he didn't question it.
"Yes, Draco?" Maman answered, looking up from her book. Her form was draped elegantly on a silver and black chaise, a stack of books set on the floor next to her. Draco thought that she always seemed happier here among her stories, rather than outside the Manor with the other purebloods.
He shifted his weight nervously before he caught himself and stilled. Straightening his back, he readied his question. "Can you... Tell me more about Veela?"
Draco could tell she was startled by his question, but only for a moment. The slight wrinkles on her brow softened slightly with sadness, and she pulled herself to a sitting position, patting the space next to her. "Have a seat next to me."
Draco sat down, cuddling into her form without hesitation. He watched as she took a deep breath before speaking.
"I was a Veela, you know," she began, eyes distant. "Or at least... I could have been."
Draco brows furrowed in confusion, which she caught. Lips quirked dryly, she made to clarify
"When I was born, it was to two part Veela parents. My sister Bellatrix was only part Veela, and my other sister Andromeda hadn't inherited the bloodline at all," she informed him. "I, however, was full Veela.
"Of course, they couldn't have that," she said sardonically. "Creature blood in the family tree! Whatever shall we do!" she mocked, voice high and panicky.
"Now you must understand, Draco, this was only a century or so after Veela were recognized as Beings in Magical Britain. Even now they have limited rights, treated little better than creatures with the only difference being that us wizards are far to fearful of their nation to truly persecute them. Sometimes I wish..." she trailed off, a distant glaze to her eyes. Shaking her head bitterly as if to rid herself of those thoughts, she continued. "Because of this, most Veela still live in France, as it was the first country to accept Veela."
Here, she shifted Draco in her arms until they were making direct eye contact, as if to press home the importance of her next words.
"My sister Bellatrix was fine. Halfbreeds were not uncommon in Pureblood families. I, however... Did you know it used to be legal to kill squibs until a century ago? It's true," she affirmed at his wide eyes. "And, if you looked at it a certain way... As a full Veela, my wizard heritage was suppressed and I was unable to use magic, effectively making me a squib."
Draco sucked in a deep breath, eyes the size of dinner plates. "What happened?"
She laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. Draco thought that it was a laugh the color of violet, all soft blues and harsh reds.
"My father wanted to kill me," she whispered. She seemed to forget about Draco in that moment, caught up in her memories. Even so, her arms around him tightened, and Draco returned the gesture, drawn in by the moment.
"My mother begged him not to, to change his mind. To send me to the Veela Council for their care instead, or even to drop me off at a muggle orphanage, so long as I lived. They argued, oh how they argued! Until eventually, my father had an idea. 'We will take her to the goblins' he said, 'they will suppress the Veela blood and make her only wizard,' he said.
"It was a miracle I survived, Draco. That kind of magic... It kills half of those it is attempted on, and that is before they reach their magical maturity! Not that I could fault them. The older you are, the more deep the blood has settled, the harder it is to attempt. It was either then, the day I was born, or not at all. And you know what the other options were."
She seemed to return to herself, looking at Draco with knowing eyes. "But that isn't what you wanted to hear, is it? You want to hear about how it would affect you, not some ancient history."
Draco felt himself blush shamefully.
She laughed, and it was lighter somehow, less somber. "Let me tell you of your heritage, Draco, but first, promise me one thing."
Draco listened closely, heart thumping in anticipation. "Yes, Maman?"
She stroked his head gently, and her smile faltered once again. "Promise me you will keep it a secret, and to listen to your heart, when the time comes. Do not turn away out of a mistaken sense of duty," she whispered.
Draco sensed a story behind her words, but for now, nodded as solemnly as he could. "I promise, Maman."
She resettled him, until they were less intertwined and he was merely sitting in her lap. Her tone took on a lecturing quality that made Draco sit up and pay attention.
"Veela are always girls, first off. You are the exception, not the rule. Because of this, you must keep your heritage a secret to all but your most trusted.
"Secondly, there is no choice to finding your mate. When you find him, you find him, no exceptions, no backing out. Even so, or perhaps because of this, do not turn your mate away. Trust your magic to find someone you can love, as your magic is the truest part of you.
Finally, when you turn sixteen, expect a... surprise."
Draco tilted his head, but no explanation came forth. "What kind of surprise, Maman?"
"You're too young to hear about it right now," she smirked at him.
Draco forced the pout off his face before it could completely form, but it was difficult. "Does it have anything to do with my powers?"
"...Yes. Yes it does."
Draco sighed in defeat. Maman would not tell him anymore right now. She was in one of those moods of hers, where she was simultaneously playful and arrogant. Not a good combination.
"Thank you, Maman."
"No problem, my Little Dragon."
It was only then that Draco wondered how she knew the events that happened the night she was born.
Ten Years Old
Draco lay in his bed, the lights off so that only blurred figures could be made out in the darkness. He should go to sleep soon, but found his mind wandering.
He wondered what his mate would be like. Would he be blonde, or dark haired? Would his eyes be warm, cold, clever, mischievous? Would he be tall? Short?
Would he like Draco? Would he be someone he could love? Draco had read so many stories of Veelas being taken advantage of by their mates, the only ones immune to their Allure.
What would his blood status be? Draco didn't think it could be pureblood, as he had already met most of his fellow elites.
Would he want children? Draco had not been sure if he could get pregnant as a boy, but Maman had told him he could. Draco was glad. He really wanted children.
What would Father think of him, he wondered, but quickly pushed that thought aside. He didn't want to think about that.
Draco's final thought was in contrast, his most dearly held.
When would he get to meet him?
Eleven Years Old
"-and you will uphold the Malfoy name with dignity and power."
Draco waited a beat, and when it was clear Father had finished speaking, nodded his head regally. "Yes, Father."
With one last contemptful look, his Father swept out of his room, leaving Draco to sigh in relief.
Draco didn't like it when Father entered his room. It was always to lecture him on his duties and expectations for being pureblood, or another related topic. He would stalk around the floor picking things up and studying them as he went, flipping through his books, notes, journals. Judging, searching, trampling through his territory.
It made something in his chest sink, his stomach clench and roil with suppressed fear and rage.
Draco didn't like it when Father entered his room.
Draco rose from where he sat on his bed, the only safe place from Father's inspections, and moved to reorganize a few of his books, where Father had put them back in the wrong place.
A book titled Our Stagnating Society: The Facts was put back with care, while The Pureblood's Noblesse Oblige was handled with a sneer. He would burn the monstrosity of an intellectual work if Father would not punish him for it. It was one of the books he got him after all, full of bias and arrogance, and fit only to brainwash the young and innocent.
This lecture in particular was spurred by the party being thrown later this evening. The Greengrass were celebrating their daughter's Hogwarts acceptance letter that had arrived just the day before, and were throwing a big shindig while inviting everyone. As the richest neutrally aligned family in Europe, one could hardly skip out on it either, never mind the fact that no one else was throwing a party for their eleven year old child.
It was to be expected, though. They were the Greengrass.
The rest of the day passed by quickly, with Draco being fully absorbed in his studies. Stepping through the Floo after brushing some imaginary dirt from his Acromantula silk robes, he soon arrived at the mansion on the other side of the network.
Draco ignored his momentary dizziness from the travel method and smoothly stepped into line beside his mother, while on the other side of her stood Father. There they waited to be acknowledged and led to the party.
Only a moment passed before a house elf (which Draco carefully ignored, lest Father took the time to batter the Magical Chain of Authority into his skull again) led them through the halls and into a large and airy room. Music and chatter filled the air, most taking the opportunity to commit clandestine meetings of both the Gryffindor and Slytherin nature. Slytherin being illegal and Gryffindor being... passionate.
Draco broke off from his parents to join the children, grouped together in a corner. There their clumsy machinations could be politely ignored, and they could mingle with the next generation of influential purebloods.
Immediately two figures converged on him and flanked his sides. Draco suppressed a sigh. He had theorized Crabbe and Goyle (he couldn't be bothered to remember their first names) had been told to become his friends cough*minions*cough a few years back, and they had been following him ever since, often resembling a mixture of particularly slow lapdogs and slightly intelligent trolls. Perhaps he was being a bit harsh, but they were just so... stupid.
"Draco!" came a whisper yell, and he turned around to see little Astoria Greengrass, dressed in navy blue robes with silver earrings. She was two years his junior, happy as a princess, rich as a queen, and twice as manipulative.
"Astoria," he deadpanned. "What a pleasant surprise. Whatever are you doing here?"
She giggled, looking adorably sweet and innocent. Not.
"I live here, remember? Astoria Greengrass," she said with exaggerated pride, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. At least, Draco hoped it was exaggerated. It seemed every generation of inbreeding either lowered intellect or humanity, and he preferred dealing with egos more than retards, as shown by the two dunces currently breathing over his shoulder heavily. Oh, what he would give to off them discreetly. Sadly, their families were important, and they were the heir apparents. Sigh.
"How could I forget? Your effeminate presence bares no little regard," he said with a fake smile. Sometimes, he was tempted to steal his mother's wand and cast a Scourgify on his mouth just to get rid of the bad taste his bullshitting left behind. Truly, he was disgusted at himself.
This disgust was quickly transferred to Astoria, who preened where she stood at at the compliment. With no further preamble, she attached herself to his arm and practically dragged him to the refreshments table, his two silent monkeys slowly trailing after them.
Sigh.
This seemed like a good place to let off, so I did. Do you have a general idea of Draco's personality yet? Great!
Also, how much should I bash Ron, do you think? Right now the plot calls for either stupid prejudiced Ron or jealous prejudiced Ron. So, either way, prejudiced.
As a side note, who will be Hermione's new pairing? The Ron I'm planning on writing disgusts me too much to let him near any respectable female.