This is my own attempt at a Veela story. I figured it was a good topic, and a person can always find a new spin on it. It is rated PG at the moment, for a little swearing. It'll go up as the slash appears. And as to be expected, it is HPDM slash. I don't write anything else, anyway. And yes, I don't own Harry Potter or anything else affiliated with Harry Potter. Yeah, like anyone thought I did. Well, on with the story. . .
Spirit of the Veela
Three: Black and White
By: Roslyn Drycof
Dumbledore's train compartment was twice the size of the others on the train, decorated in all black and white. Both boys were surprised. Usually their Headmaster was fond of bright colors, not starkness. And yet he looked just as comfortable surrounded by these two colors as he took a seat on a white couch.
Harry and Draco sat on the black couch directly opposite of Professor Dumbledore's. Harry immediately began to fidget, somehow dreaded the conversation that was to come. He knew he wasn't going to like what Dumbledore had to say. He just knew it.
Draco was as perfectly composed as his rival was nervous. He was a curious person at heart, and looked forward to hearing what the Headmaster had to say. And it would also be interesting to see Potter's reaction to the news of his heritage, whatever it was.
Dumbledore didn't waste any time with pleasantries. He could tell Harry was strung out, and prolonging his uncertain state wasn't recommended. "Harry, do you have any inkling about what is going on?"
The raven-haired boy frowned, staring at his hands. "I think so. Yesterday, Malfoy's mother said something about the Black family having weird traits. And I think I remember Malfoy saying something about Veelas to Hermione. It seems insane, but it looks like I'm a veela. But how? I'm not related to the Blacks."
Albus Dumbledore looked tired as he rubbed his beard. "I'd hoped you wouldn't be affected by your heritage, but it appears my hopes were in vain. Your great-grandmother on your mother's side was not a muggle, as it was thought. She was a Black, Laurelia Black, to be precise. She was a fourth veela, the granddaughter of Draconis Black and Aubrey Veelin. Aubrey was a Veela princess and managed to be captured by a band of hunters. Draconis Black rescued her and they mated. Back the Laurelia, she ran away when her mate was killed by a dark wizard. She successfully hid her heritage and lived out the life of a muggle. None of her descendants showed signs of their Veela blood, until you."
Draco mentally scanned his family tree at lightening speed and instantly knew how he and Potter were related. "Laurelia was the first cousin of my great-grandfather Black."
Harry frowned at this bit of news. "You mean I'm some distant cousin of Malfoy?"
The Headmaster was relieved Harry had taken this first bit of news quite well. Amusement twinkled in his eyes at the look of disgust on both boys' faces.
"Oh yes, you are distant cousins. Quite a family tree, don't you agree?"
That comment was met with crossed arms and disgruntled glares, which only caused Dumbledore's amusement to escalate.
A few minutes passed in silence. Then Draco thought of something. "Headmaster, you were uncertain that Hogwarts could handle one male Veela. Won't two cause some major problems?"
"Ah, yes. That could be a problem, if the incident a few minutes ago was any indication. I believe if you can both find ways to stop your charms from getting out of control, you shouldn't face too many problems."
Draco jumped up, looking indignant. "You mean you expect us to go around screwing people to keep the charms satisfied?! Are you nuts!?!"
The boy sitting beside him let out a choked gasp. Huh? What the hell was he talking about?!
"Draco, I do not mean any such thing. Unless your Heat is somehow triggered, you will not need to go to such extremes. Light touching and kissing should more than suffice."
"Headmaster, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, not liking what Dumbledore was saying. And when had Dumbledore become so loose about such intimate stuff?
The old man turned towards the clueless Gryffindor with small smile curving his thin lips. "Dear boy, don't sound so scandalized. I'm aware that teenagers like to engage in such activities. I was young myself, after all. Now, you've been aware of a burning sensation in your chest, correct? It is your charms demanding to be satisfied. You must satisfy them periodically, or else another incident like earlier will occur."
Great. Just great. After avoiding anything sexual or intimate with people for years, he now had to jump in headfirst. The Daily Prophet was going to have a field day with this!
"Albus, we are approaching the school," Minerva McGonagall announced, stepping into the comparment. Professor Snape followed with a sneer on his face directed towards Harry.
"Oh good. Well boys, time for you to get ready," the Headmaster said, turning towards the two teenagers on the black couch.
They nodded, standing. The headed towards the door, when Harry suddenly turned around in the doorway and asked, "Professor, one question. Why the black and white?"
He chuckled, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Not my choice, dear boy. Severus suggested it when he realized you would have to come in here after the incident. Black and white are the only colors that won't agitate a Veela in their full charms."
Hmm. "What color can't they stand?"
"It isn't what they can't stand, it's what affects their charms. Red is the one color that you never have around a Veela in their charm."
With that, the door shut behind them. And in that instant, Harry realized something awful. Red was one of the Gryffindor colors!
Draco realized that too, and burst out laughing. "Ha! You're screwed."
"Oh yeah? If I am, you are too. Remember what happened earlier? As soon as I got affected, you did too."
The blond immediately stopped laughing. Damn, the four-eyed idiot had him there.
"Harry, are you all right?" were the first words out of Hermione's mouth when Harry entered their compartment a few minutes later.
He nervously ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip. "Uh, yeah. Never better."
She instantly narrowed her eyes at him. He was lying. Blatantly so. And so she took the hard approach. Hands on hips and a superior look on her features, she said, "So are you and Malfoy mates? That's the only way you'd be able to say you've never felt better."
Her friend choked, a horror-filled look in his emerald eyes. "Are you mental, 'Mione?! There's no way in hell I'd be his mate!"
She simply stared at him with raised eyebrows.
Harry knew what she was doing, and understood. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
"Damnit, Hermione. Must you know everything?"
The brunette didn't deign to answer.
He growled. "Fine. You really want to know? I'm a Veela, my great-grandmother was a Black who ran away and pretended to be a muggle, and I'm going to have to make out with people to make sure all the students don't go crazy and try to rape me! That good enough for you?!"
She didn't bat an eye. But Ron, poor Ron, he fell back onto his seat with a shell-shocked expression. Harry had never blown up like this before, and after the incident earlier, he just couldn't handle it. The redhead felt like the entire world had gone mental.
A staring contest ensued between the Boy Who Lived and Hogwart's resident Know-It-All. It went on for several minutes, until Ron got fed up with their behavior.
"I am sick of this! 'Mione, you don't need to get in Harry's face like this! And Harry, you don't have to be so secretive! We're supposed to be best friends, all of us, and look at you two! Acting like two animals in heat!"
Both Hermione and Harry blinked at the "animals in heat" analogy Ron made. Instantly, the emerald-eyed boy grimaced. He was acting like that. And he was a guy! Ugh. . .what if this was a side effect of being a Veela? He remembered the Veela cheerleaders and shuddered. Yeah, they'd been females, but did he know that the males acted any better?
Hermione was confused by her behavior. Why had she suddenly gotten so aggressive with Harry? Yes, she'd intended on being persuasive in finding out exactly what was going on, but she'd never meant to end up acting like a bitch! A frown of concentration on her face, she sat down and thought over what she knew about Veelas. It was a lot, since she'd done a report on Veelas for DADA last year.
Veelas were a temperamental species, and highly competitive. There were more females than males, because although most people thought the females were possessive and jealous, it was the males that were truly insufferable. They didn't become ugly when angry, but in fact became even more beautiful. In a temper, they would grow luxurious wings that had a span of roughly eight to ten feet. Their skin would glow luminously and their eyes would glow so fiercely was rumoured that the fires of hell burned in them. Their fingernails would grow longer in claws that could rip through stone. They were also easily provoked. Of course, this wouldn't happen until they reached their majority at the age of seventeen. Until then, they looked like normal humans, exceptionally attractive humans, but humans nonetheless.
When they turned seventeen, they grew six inches and their skin appeared to faintly glow. Their charms activated, and they would feel a burning sensation in their chests. They had to satisfy their charms periodically through mild/moderate sexual activity or else they would broadcast their charms and all muggles and wizards in the area would become entranced by them.
Veela males, unlike Veela females, went into Heat. Their First Heat didn't appear at any specific time, but was triggered by something, usually by the unleashing of their full temper for the first time, although that wasn't always the case. When in Heat, a male Veela became crazed with lust. Their charms activated full-force, and they lost all control. They would desperately search for their Mate, although they couldn't tell who was their Mate until they had a sexual encounter. Sometimes, a male Veela would go through several women, Veela, muggle, or wizard (they didn't discriminate when they were in Heat), before they found their Mate. Unfortunately, this led to many muggles and wizards becoming Veela-struck, a permanent condition in which a person becomes addicted to the feel of a Veela.
Hermione stopped remembering what she'd read about Veelas, and looked at her two best friends in confusion. They were staring at her oddly, and she suddenly realized, with more than a little embarrassment, that she must've been thinking out loud.
Harry looked a bit pale and he tugged one hand at his collar, as if to loosen it. "That can't be right. I mean, eurgh!"
She shrugged helplessly. "It's one hundred percent right, Harry. I read it in several different books."
"Harry, mate, don't get angry, will you?" Ron abruptly asked. He looked a little green about the gills.
"Do I get angry easily?"
"Eh heh heh. . ."
Harry glared at his friend, who suddenly found great interest in the carpet pattern. "I do not get angry easily!"
His voice was louder than usual and sounded suspiciously like a shout. Certainly a sign of anger. . .
"Harry? Could you lower your voice? You know Ron didn't mean anything by that comment, but it's a fact that you've been getting easily agitated easily," Hermione told her black-haired friend, trying to calm him.
A black scowl appeared on his face. His skin glowed more brightly as he jerked his arm out in a sweeping motion. "Well, if the damned furnishings weren't bloody red of all colors, I might not get this way!"
Oh hell. She'd forgotten that red was a color that wasn't good to have around Veelas. Immediately, she whispered a spell and the compartment turned white.
Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. He hated how easily he flew off the handle. It was getting to be quite tiring, to say the least! Lowering his arm, he closed his eyes and let the blackness of his eyelids soothe him.
He opened his eyes a few minutes later to see the majestic castle of Hogwarts appear in the distance outside the window. He smacked his head with his hand. How stupid of him! Professor McGonagall had specifically told him and Malfoy that they were going to be approaching the schoool soon!
The next few minutes consisted of both Harry and Ron running around trying to get their school robes on properly. Hermione simply sat there, watching them with an amused smile on her face. Her best friends were such idiots sometimes.
That night at the Welcoming Feast, Harry felt the burning sensation come back. He cursed it, but had known it would come back. In fact, he'd expected it sooner. Loosening his red and gold striped tie, he looked across the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy doing the same to his own tie. Their eyes met across the table and they shared a look of disgust. Neither particularly wanted to find some random girl to satisfy their charms, especially considering that the girls would probably expect more.
They quickly broke eye contact, disturbed that they'd actually met each other's eyes without hatred burning inside of them. Harry finished his dinner silently and stood up, leaving the Great Hall to make his way towards Gryffindor Tower. He didn't care that he didn't know the password. He just had to get away from the suffocating prescence of all those people in the Great Hall.
Leaning against the stone wall beside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry took in a deep breath and released it loudly. Damn, the burning was becoming more insistent.
"Harry, what are you doing out here?" a soft, feminine voice asked him.
He winced. Damn. "Hi, Ginny. Hermione's told you of my change, hasn't she?"
Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, nodded. A sympathetic look was in her warm brown eyes. "I heard. It's a good thing I got over my crush for you a couple of years ago."
He grinned at the teasing tone in her voice. "Blunt as always."
She mock-glared at him, her hands on her hips. "Did you expect any different from a Weasley?"
Harry shook his head, suddenly wincing as the burning increased. She stared at him, worry shining in her eyes. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. . .never better," he told her, concentrating hard on getting the words out.
She obviously didn't believe him. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. But hey, why are up here anyway?"
"I was made a prefect, remember? I was making sure everything was in order up here."
"Oh. Right." He faintly remembered her saying something about that when she'd left the Gryffindor table twenty minutes into supper.
Sweat had popped out on his brow and he slowly raised a hand to wipe it away. Ginny noticed and realized what was happening. "Harry, you need to satisfy the charms."
He clenched his fists, looking away from her. "Not with you."
"Who else? You're lucky I'm not affected, being such a good friend of yours, and so I won't take advantage of you. Who knows what some other girl would do?"
Damn. She was right. Giving into the burning, he pulled her towards him and slanted his mouth over hers. That simple touch was heaven, and he pressed her against the wall. She responded, but only with the love of friendship. He was easily able to satisfy the burning sensation within minutes. And luckily, he hadn't even gone past kissing.
She pulled away from him, a faint flush on her face and a smile curving her kiss-swollen lips. "Wow, if I'd known you were such a good kisser, I might've kept that crush a while longer."
A laugh escaped him and he tousled her hair. "Minx."
The girl was all innocence as she replied, "Who, me?"
"Yes, you." He ruffled her hair again, eliciting a nose-wrinkle from his best friend's sister.
"I'm not a little girl anymore, Harry. Quit messing with the hair!"
He ignored her, instead looping an arm through hers and turning to face the stairwell. Numerous students were shuffling up the stairs, Hermione in the lead, her Head Girl badge glinting proudly on her chest.
"Now what have you two been up to?" Hermione asked, motioning vaguely for the first years to stop, her attention focussed on the pair in front of her.
"Just a little charms," Ginny told her in a completely innocuous-sounding voice.
Everyone except for a few certain people thought she meant they'd been practicing spells, something most wrinkled their noses at. Practicing already?
Hermione and Ron knew otherwise and Ron wanted to hurt Harry for having to use Ginny. But when he saw her completely unruffled expression, he knew she'd only done it out of friendship and her silly crush was completely gone. But still. . .his sister? Why had Harry had to use his sister?
Ginny glared at her brother. "I wanted to. Don't get your knickers in a bunch over something I did of my own free-will."
He crossed his arms and made as if to say something, but Hermione interrupted by announcing to the group behind her, "All right, everyone! Password's Chudley Cannons. Everyone inside, now!"
Guess who'd picked that password. Ron Weasley was the Chudley Cannons' biggest fan, even though they continuously lost. If a person even mentioned Quidditch, their ear would be talked off within minutes with inane chatter about the team.
Harry was last to enter the Gryffindor common room, a strangely prophetic feeling taking ahold of his heart, constricting his chest. Slowly stepping through the portrait hole, he knew something big was going to happen. . .even bigger than his being a Veela. And he instinctually knew it wasn't bad. What could be bigger and not bad, he didn't know. But he knew he was going to find out soon enough. Soon enough. . .
Okay, the chapters are slowly, but surely getting longer. And I'm leading up to the plot nicely, I think. Yeah, kind of a cliff hanger there. Sorry about that, but I just had the urge to do that. Maybe it'll get you to review and make me write the next chapter immediately. A girl can hope! Please review! And thanks so much for the reviews so far! I don't think I've ever gotten so many reviews so fast before. Keep it up and I'll update soon!
