It was the early hours of the morning, the sky painted a coral blue with a small sliver of crimson to indicate sunrise and this splash of red was what had awoken a certain Slytherin from his sleep who, after rubbing sleep from his eyes sat up, checked the clock on the side of his bed and flopped back down onto the soft covers. It was quarter to six, still much too early for him to wake, and instead he listened to the sound of birds chirping in the distance and his own low breathing. It was peaceful at a time like this, and he reveled in the tranquility that he felt, if only for a moment. Stretching, he yawned, sighed wistfully and stood up, lightly scratching the skin of his stomach. From a dark, wooden drawer, he collected a pair of plain black silk shorts and shuffled to the shower. Stepping in, he turned the water to boiling and lathered a small amount of Essence of Stitmayn into his hair. Stitmayn was well known for its aphrodisiac effect no the opposite sex, as well as increasing the pheromones in his body to make him smell near irresistible. Letting the water wash over his aching back for a little while longer, he turned it off and wrapped a towel around him. After the usual drying, he picked the correct robe to wear.

Finishing the last touches of his uniform, he sat back on the bed and checked the time: six thirty. He still had quite a while to go so he lay back down, his mind drifting to last night. A smirk formed on his lips as he remembered kissing Granger. She was so incredibly easy to rile up. It was his constant source of amusement to get her angry and yesterday he just couldn't help it, the chance had presented itself and he had to take it. Not to mention she was not a bad kisser, yes a little aggressive but overall not bad. Touching his lips at the memory, he shook his head while letting a surprised laugh escape his lips. She was annoying, and a mudblood, and overall narcotic but amusing nonetheless.

A flutter of wings broke through his thoughts and he sat up, watching as a beautiful tawny owl swooped onto the ledge of his window. Cautiously, he opened it and let the creature inside, puzzled. It was his mother's owl, he could tell by the slight white markings on her left wing but usually she didn't write until the end of term or if there was something of great importance to inform him about.

"Alina, What are you doing here?" He whispered affectionately to the owl, which hooted softly and gave him a small loving nip on the arm. He reached out and took the letter from her grasped claws, noting the crest of the Malfoy family, sitting down wearily on his bed while eyeing the letter. Finally, curiosity got the better of him and he tore open the letter, his eyes growing wider by the second.

'Dearest Draco,

Since you have passed the age of sixteen, I feel it is my duty to tell you something that will have an affect on your life.

If you remember, there are two types of Veela that I've told you about. The Stida, which is the pure Veela, as I am, and only allowed in females. Then, there is the Sletta, which occurs when a Stida and a normal wizard mate. Your father was a Sletta, and it ran rather strong in his genes. Now, what I didn't-couldn't tell you were that there is a third type. They are called Swayeed Veela. These are born as I'm sure you've now guessed, when there is a union between a Sletta and a Stida.

Swayeed are surprisingly common, dear, but they have a few catches that are only reserved for their kind. For one, the males are especially possessive and have an awful temper because of their strengthened animal instincts. Since you have inherited the possessiveness of both your father and I, you have to be doubly careful of your violence. Secondly, they are more fertile than normal Veela; therefore your sexual activity needs to be limited because even wizards contraception spells may not be enough to quell the Veela instinct to procreative.

And here, Draco my dear boy, I give you the final, most worrisome concept you must know: Swayeed Veelas have one mate for life.

That means that when you were born, a counterpart in the form of a female was born. Now, this may not have been such a catastrophe, if there wasn't something else: Once passed the age of seventeen, if, in a full cycle of a year, you have not found your mate, the Veela within you will take over and you will become something similar to a werewolf, cursed to roam the world in the natural Veela form.

I am so sorry, I would never have imposed such a destiny upon you had I known, and I only found out of your future when a fortune-teller informed me that you would be thus. Please find it in your heart to forgive me, and write back as soon as possible, so that we may arrange the search for your mate.

One thing I can help you with is that your mate, upon coming into contact with you sexually, will have your mark somewhere on her body. That is to say, whatever is a representation of you in her eyes will appear on her skin.

Your sense of smell and sight will be vastly improved, and you will have moments of uncontrollable lust; This is the beast within you searching for your mate and you need to be careful when you are near a female, for you may make her pregnant, which is something that we do not need.

Write back as soon as possible my darling, and I've told Severus Snape about the issue at hand, and he is more than willing to help.

I love you,

Mother.'

For a full minute, his face was frozen on the letter, and he read it through several times before it had sunk in.

He was Veela.

Crap.

---

Hermione, try as she might, could not concentrate on Professor Binns, and had to several times stifle a yawn. One thing that Malfoy was correct about was that she wouldn't have been able to get to sleep, though it was for a different reason entirely: After she had retired to her borrowed room, for she couldn't return to her head quarters at the fairly late hour of 12, she could hear raucous laughter from below, followed by regular thumps which she took to be the sound of one of the Slytherins fighting with a Gryffindor. And if that wasn't enough for her disturbing night, Luna and Lavender had swaggered up to her room at around 3, thoroughly intoxicated and in an annoyingly giggly state, whispering loudly about all the ludicrous dares they had to do.

…"And the Goblins had, unsuccessfully, rebelled though it is unclear as to what they were protesting for. Wizards believe that it was merely for better social treatment, but there have been evidence of a monumental gathering of some sort…" Professor Binns' dolce set tone penetrated her scattered thoughts, and she sighed irritably before going back to rather futile attempts at making notes. On top of her headache, and exhaustion, she was nursing a smoldering rage directed at her because of the way she had conducted herself yesterday night:

Specifically kissing Malfoy.

Her quill snapped at her strong grip on it, and she practically snatched another from her bag, all the while cursing her incredible stupidity.

Was she utterly dense Kissing Malfoy? Of all people...had she gone temporarily mad? It was completely ridiculous, and now she just knew, knew that he had done that to rile her up, or use her, or simply for his own amusement and she had basically handed it to him on a platter! Where was her dignity and control? She scribbled on the parchment furiously, sadistically imagining the look on his face as she slowly wrung his neck. Another yawn was stifled and she put a hand over her mouth, trying, in vain, to hide her tiredness. Initially, when she had woken up from a fit full sleep, her head felt as though a Hippogriff had sat on it, and even after a hot, refreshing shower her mind had been confused and her eyes still half lidded.

"…Well, that's it for today, I would like the five inch assignment of Goblin Eradication by the Wizard Government in for next lesson. That is all." With a start, Hermione realized that people around her were packing up their things, and she put her quill and roll of parchment into her bag. Harry, she noted satisfied, didn't look good at all; with dark smudges under his eyes and an overall pale pallor she knew that he wasn't having a great time. Well good, he deserved it. Ron looked laughable, as usual; Hermione could see that his shirt was inside out and the collar half-up, along with his tattered robes. When they walked passed her, they offered a small, some what weary smile her way but she merely glared at them. She had come to the solid conclusion that, had they not planned such an evening to take place, she would never have kissed Malfoy and, although her consciousness was berating her twisted logic, she stuck to it.

It was by a miraculous stroke of luck that she hadn't seen Malfoy. Avoiding breakfast, she went instead to the library to look up on the properties of Dragon's Blood, just for something to do. Then, she had Magical History, and it was just Gryffindors so she had nothing to worry about though her lesson after lunch, Potions, was sure to make her nervous, for she had to share it with Slytherins.

The halls were filling up with pupils making their way to the lunch hall, and several times Hermione got wedged between two people and had to literally fight her way out. The throng of bodies ignored the Head Girl, much to her annoyance, and pushed and shoved their way through. There was a small alcove near a dusty-looking coat of arms and she dove for it, eager to get out of the crowd. She fit in comfortably, and it wasn't, to her delight, noticeable unless one came and poked their head directly behind the coat of arms or, as she had done, stares at it intently from an angle. Standing, she looked out, studying the pupils and waiting until they had dispersed but as she turned her head to look back towards the dungeons, her stomach gave a nauseous flip, and she shrunk further into the little space.

It was Malfoy, grey eyes imperious and the arrogant tilt of his chin obvious. He was walking with Blaise, whispering furiously and shaking his head violently. As they walked directly passed her hiding place, she caught a few words.

"…Yes, I'll go back to my Head room...mmhhhm.." And then he was striding away and any other piece of conversation was too hard for her to hear.

If he was going to their chambers, Hermione mused, she'd be able to go to lunch, as he wouldn't be there. For the first time that morning, she smiled fully and, checking that he was no longer there, she got out of the cramped space and all but skipped to lunch. The hall was alight with small banter and people heartily tucking into their much earned lunch, and she sat next to an animated Ginny who, for the most part, looked the best out of them; her skin was full of colour and, although there were also dark circles under her butterscotch eyes, she was alive. Taking a plate, Hermione ladled it with Yorkshire Pie, a piece of roast chicken and a strawberry pudding, hunger gnawing the insides of her stomach.

"Oh, Hermione!" It was Ginny, and Hermione quickly took a bite out of the steaming pie, sighing contently at the taste.

"Mmm?" It was rather muffled but she was starving, though she gave Ginny the courtesy of looking her way. She leaned in, a delighted smile on her lips and whispered loudly.

"You kissed Malfoy!" Hermione was in the process of chewing a rather large bite of pie, which she promptly started to choke on. Alarmed, she tried to swallow the piece but, having been lodged in her throat, she had no choice but to splutter pathetically and signal to a shocked Ginny for some pumpkin juice. When she gulped down a few mouthfuls, she coughed for good measure and wiped her mouth delicately with the back of her hand, before casting her full attention to her deranged friend.

"He kissed me! And-and I couldn't do anything! He was-s-smothering me!"

"Oh pish posh! Don' for one second have me believe that you didn't enjoy it!" Pushing her plate violently from her, Hermione swiveled around and whispered venomously.

"He started it! And what was I meant to do? He was trying to belittle me so I had to do something."

"Hermione," Ginny said a pitying look in her eyes, "The war is over. Malfoy, to a certain extent, helped us. Will you just give this animosity between the two of you a break?" Hermione stood up, shaking with rage, and grabbed her bag from the floor.

"I don't like Malfoy. He is-"Ginny interrupted,

"Erm, Hermione, I think you-"She was cut off by Hermione, who was too angry with both herself and her friend to notice anything around her.

"…a rude, obnoxious, cocky, arrogant individual who I want nothing to do with!" There was a low clap behind her and she turned around, hissing a 'what?' before she saw who it was.

"Well, well, Granger. Now that you've made that assessment of me, I'd like to make my own of you." Malfoy walked up to her and she moved back only to have her back collide with the edge of the table. Wincing inwardly, she glared his way, arms crossed protectively around her, vaguely noting the silence that ascended on the hall.

"You are a self-righteous, annoying little prude who has absolutely no idea about me." He put his head to the side, an ugly sneer on his face and put his lips against her ear, making her flinch at the contact.

"Not to mention," He continued silkily, though too low for anyone but her to hear, "You are exceptionally lacking in the kissing department, not to mention your appearance too. Who knows? If you get lessons from Weasel or Potter, you might just prevent anything with a penis running a mile from you though I highly doubt that." He laughed maliciously and took a step back, raising a mocking eyebrow at her silence. For her part, Hermione was shaking with indignation, anger and hurt, though she would never admit the latter. She didn't think that she was able to form words, such was her acrimony, and instead, she dropped her bag and slapped him. The sharp sound resounded around the hall and she heard the scrap of chairs where Harry and Ron had stood up. The Slytherin table was in chaos, and she saw Pansy and Millicent gasp and stand, knocking their chairs from beneath them and walking towards Hermione, only to be held back by Blaise and Knott. Her temper was by no means abated and she stared boldly into Malfoy's eyes. They were livid, she could tell, and his face was a controlled passive but she could see a vein almost popping on his jaw. There was a red mark on his left cheek, a contrast to his pale tone and she was savagely pleased with herself, even though she knew that there was no getting away with it where Malfoy was concerned.

"Big mistake, mudblood. Big mistake." His voice, in contrast to his words, was soft, deceptively calm, and she flinched at the word that he had only just recently stopped calling her. Well, if he thought that the last word would be his, he didn't know her well enough. Squaring her shoulders, she replied in the same calm voice.

"Oh, I think the mistake was all yours, ferret." She felt Harry's hand on her shoulder but she brushed it off, never breaking eye contact with the ass in front of her. It seemed like an eternity before he broke the connection of their eyes, only to tip his head in a way, as if to say, 'So be it.' He turned and walked briskly from the hall, the arch of his back straight and proud. She released a breath she hadn't even known she was holding and sat down on a chair she was taken to by Harry. Ron was behind her, muttering angrily and the hall went back to a somewhat excited chatter.

"The prick! I don't care if he helped us in the war…he's worse than Hippogriff dung…deserves to have his oily hair ripped clean off his head…bloody git…" For her part, Hermione was still furious and ignored Ginny's distressed voice and Harry's resolved 'he will never get near you'.

"Hermione, are you alright?" It was Ginny, and she brushed copper hair from her eyes as she went closer to her.

"I'm fine!" she snapped, but Ginny being Ginny, pursued the subject instead of dropping it.

"I mean, he was a real ass to you, and what he said was completely unjustified, even if you insulted him first…" Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried not to throttle her.

"Gin. I don't want to talk about it."

"But-"

"I. don't. want. To. talk. About. It." She grounded out and Ginny nodded tiredly and turned back to talk to Ron. Harry, who still had his arm around her, looked her in the eye, serious.

"You need to be careful." What was it with everyone suddenly weary of Malfoy?

"If I recall correctly, Harry," She said coldly, "It was you who were all too happy to let them play that idiotic game with us, and you did nothing but mumble something unintelligible when he wanted to-to kiss me. So don't you suddenly change heart and start to see what an evil person he is." He had the decency to look away, guilty, but when he looked back his green eyes were set.

"Yeah, sorry…it was just that since he did help, you know with the war, we assumed he would be o-ok, but we see now that he is the same git he was before and I'm just saying, be careful especially when you go back to your room, seeing as you have to share it with him." She froze, literally froze at his words: It had only dawned on her that she would eventually have to go back to the head quarters and she couldn't avoid him then.

Damn him to the pits and back.

Rubbing her head, she tried to massage the on coming headache with her fingers and when that didn't work she gave up, setting them back onto her lap. She had, admittedly, gotten herself into quite a pickle, for she knew that Malfoy would never overlook the blatant embarrassment and added to that, the superiority complex he had…well, in short, she was in trouble. He would endeavor to humiliate her in just the same manner, though his version was no doubt going to be a lot more humiliating and spiteful. Some minute part of her was anticipating the next time they met; she wanted to hit him again, hurt him with her words as he had done to her, and sooner or later, the verbal war between them was going to commence.

Her thoughts were disrupted by the shrill sound of the bell going, signaling her next lesson. In a some what dreary mood, she set off to the dungeons, where she had potions, trying not to think about the fact that he will be there. Indeed, as she entered the rancid, cold pit where the dark form of Professor Snape was situated, she saw Malfoy had sat in the far end. He wasn't looking her way, thank Merlin, and she went to sit next to Ravenclaw girl, chocolate-coloured hair tied in a tight knot about her head. As it was seventh year, only a select few from each house was allowed to do potions and since neither Harry nor Ron had gotten sufficient grades in their OWLS, Professor Snape didn't even tell them to come back. Unfortunately, both Malfoy and Blaise, along with Millicent, had been picked whereas she was the only one from her house.

"Halt." It was Snape's voice that cut through the murmur of the class, and everyone, including Malfoy, stopped what they were doing and looked towards the imposing figure at the front of the class.

"There is absolutely no point getting comfortable, Miss Granger, as you will have allocated seats." Her face blushed crimson, anger boiling in her veins as almost everyone sniggered at her misfortune. She was well aware that Snape did not particularly like her, and knew at some moment he was going to use her as an example but even so, a righteous bubble of indignation rose within her. Standing up, she held her books as he read off where everyone was going to sit.

"Mr. Zabini, over there, by Mr. Malfoy, yes on that side…Granger, you can sit between Zabini and Malfoy…hurry up." Of all the rotten luck! Chancing a furtive glance their way, she was dismayed to find that Malfoy was grinning wolfishly, while Zabini remained stone-faced, though she could have sworn she saw his mouth twitch in an unwanted smile.

"Professor, Couldn't I possible sit somewhere else please?" She bit her lip and walked to where he was currently standing. When he heard her request, his thin lips turned upward in a cruel sneer.

"Miss Granger, answer me this: Is Potter a genius, who, beyond any doubt, will succeed in every aspect of his life?" She knew what he wanted her to answer, but she couldn't call Harry all the things he was implying. When he saw her indecision, he suddenly became snappy.

"No! Miss Granger, he is not a genius, therefore you can not move" And ten points for impudence. Now sit down before I give you a detention as well." Miserably she dragged her shoes to a small seat in between the two boys, keeping her face hidden by her mane of hair. She could inadvertently smell Malfoy, that same feminine scent, though there was something beneath that…something that was making her increasingly fidgety.

"Now, turn to page three hundred and seventy three in your text books. Since this is your first lesson you will be copying out of the text book until I am satisfied with your understanding, in silence. Begin." She took out her writing parchment and began to copy out the Three Hundred Uses for Unicorn Hair when she felt a light touch on her arm. Turning, she saw Malfoy holding a neatly folded note between his fingers, urging her with his eyes to read it. Dubiously, she snatched it from him and read his elegant, intimidating scrawl.

'You know, you can't hide from me for ever. I will eventually be alone in a room with you, and then…' She turned it around but that's all it said. Angry all over again, she scribbled something back.

'Threats are very unbecoming, Malfoy, and don't for one second believe that I'm, as you so eloquently put it,' hiding' from you. Now stop sending me these pathetic notes!' Shoving it at him, she promptly went back to copying as Snape came dangerously close to them. From beside her, she heard Malfoy let out a small snort of disbelief and he wrote something back, sliding it in front of her face. Furious, she refused to read anymore and put it away into the pocket of her robes, ignoring his hiss of annoyance. Distractedly, she scratched at a spot on her back which, since that morning was itchy like someone had put flea powder in her bed. Sighing irritably, she went back to writing, trying to drive his addictive scent from her mind. Hermione heard a slight shift of chairs from her left but thought nothing of it until she felt a feather-light touch on the bottom of her thighs. She jumped about a foot in the air and all but shrieked and Snape, having eyes like an eagle, picked up on it immediately.

"Is there something the matter, Miss Granger? No? Or perhaps you've chosen today as the day to irk me." She tried to open her mouth to explain but was cut off.

"Unless there is a particular reason for why you are jumping about like a madwoman in my class? No? Then desist what you are doing this instant: another ten points for distracting the class." He laughed wryly, "My, my, aren't we a busy girl: twenty points deducted and it's not even half way through the class." Hermione sat rigidly in her chair, on the brink of tears. She was angry and frustrated and annoyed, and it did not help matters at all to hear Malfoy's poorly disguised snigger. It had been his hand she had felt. Looking back at her work, she proceeded to ignore him, that is, until she felt that hand on her thighs again. This time, she did not scream out but, instead turned and looked directly at him. His hand was inching its way slowly up her thighs and she refused to break eye contact. She couldn't reach under the table and take his hand away because it would be far too obvious so she had to sit there and will him to stop it. There was also this…this throbbing that she felt and she had to clench her legs together to stop it. His hands, soft now and barely touching her leg were slowly going underneath her robes. She saw his eyes, a dark and foreboding grey, and unconsciously, she bit hard on her bottom lip to stop from screaming at him-or moaning, she wasn't yet quite sure which would be more suitable. His hands were hovering above the belt of her skirt, the one she wore under all the robes, and decided that she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Stop it!" She hissed, alarmed that he wasn't going to listen to her, and was basically going to grope her under the table. His lips came up to form a mischievously crooked smile, and he deliberately placed his warm hand on the top of her thigh, giving it a soft, almost tantalizing squeeze. Her body was tense, and the throbbing was getting worse, but she had to stop it before she let him carry on. Not caring anymore if anyone saw what she was doing, she reached under the table and pushed his hand away. Malfoy, clearly amused, pushed her hand back and reached for her belt buckle. This time, she grabbed his hand and forcibly put it onto his lap, ignoring the soft, warm feeling of holding it. Hermione heard him chuckle lightly, though there was nothing warm about it, and he undid her belt buckle before she even had time to register that his hands were there again. On the brink of blind panic, she scraped her chair so that it was squashed next to Blaise who, after looking from her to Malfoy and back again, shook his head wryly and went back to writing. Hands shaking, she re-did her belt, making sure that it was tight rather than loose, and tried to get back to copying.

Five weary minutes went by with everyone scribbling on their parchment and, although she refused to look Malfoy's way, she knew that he must be getting up to something, for he couldn't have suddenly given up so easily. More alert, she carried on writing,.

When ten minutes when by without any insults or interruptions, she was worried. Malfoy, as he so proved rather regularly, was not one to give up but still she didn't even glance at him, for fear of provoking.

After twenty more grueling, worrying minutes, she was on the verge of a mental break down: Will he just do something already? She was expecting him to simply jump out and touch her, or say something degrading but this calm Malfoy was grating her nerves. Finally, not being able to stand it any longer, she turned his way and hissed:

"Whatever you're planning, either do it or stop-stop creeping me out! What's your problem?!" He made a show of finishing what he was writing, yawning and then fixing his half lidded eyes on her.

"Granger; whatever made you think I was planning something? Getting a little paranoid, aren't we?" Smirking, he glanced over at Snape who, on cue demanded everyone to pack up, and get out, as well as to finish copying the allocated work.

"Out." He all but shouted, and Malfoy gave her an-all-too-innocent-smile and sauntered off with the waiting Blaise, leaving her to pack up her things, flustered that she hadn't even known the bell had gone, too engrossed in finding out Malfoy's hidden agenda.

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Well, there you have it, chapter two! Hope you enjoy reading it, I know I enjoyed writing it!

If you have any questions or such, please feel free to email me, my email address is in my profile,

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it was MUCH appreciated. Thanks again, READ AND REVIEW.

-narjy xxx