The Fall Of Darkness
by kittenvks
warnings: SLASH YAOI MALE MALE HOMOSEXUALITY! - can't get much clearer than that o.0 also, there will be a bit of angst, lots of fighting, laughing, flamers to the left.
disclaimer: I own nothing, especially not Harry Potter and co.
For Fiona Flame and the LuvlyLadyLexi :))
Chapter Six: Draco's Flat
The series of rooms, much like a flat, they noted- was decorated in a very relaxed sort of modern style with clean lines and a lot of silver and green.
"Slytherin colors," Harry noted. Draco smirked, his head tilted to the side in thought.
"Yes, though there are others, they are my favorite- even before school." he said, taking a seat on a large leather couch, folding his legs beneath him and gesturing for them to sit themselves.
"So, let's start with where these Veela's all suddenly came from," Hermione said, breaking the silence.
"Voldemort." Draco said, picking up a picture and staring at it a moment before setting it aside and looking through the rest, "it started with me. Mother had always led people to believe that the Veela gene was dormant in herself, protecting herself. I, however, royally messed up. There was an incident- that I do *not* wish to discuss- at the Manor with Lucius. He immediately turned me over to Voldemort, who branded me, to fight for him. He began experiments, successful ones, to turn ordinary witches and wizards with the dormant Veela gene into more Veelas. He was trying to- to mimick me specifically. He was successful though none were just like me, not clones like he wanted. He was going to use them in the war."
"But he didn't," Harry said, remembering the final battle.
"No, he didn't. I wasn't about to allow that. I'll get there, give me a moment. Anyway, he wanted to clone me specifically. There was a large number of us, ten, that still refused to follow him, we were all wounded it one way or the other, eventually. He kept them in cages till they swore their loyalty to him under Veritasseum. Not many knew of them, it was a big secret because he suspected a spy. My mother came to me with the curses, passing on her Veelan knowledge to her child as I mentioned earlier. I taught my brood the curses. The same night you three escaped the Manor, I was found out as a traitor, my wings stripped from my body. Millie, the Watcher, as you call her- jumped in to save me- and her wings were torn from her as well."
"Just because you wouldn't fight? They took your wings for that?" Hermione asked, a bit shocked.
"No. I agreed, under Veritasseum to follow and fight. And I did, just in my own way. They took my wings because I refused to go to my Chosen, and so did Millie and the rest of my brood. We were hardly about to let them harm or mark our Chosen. We escaped that night and hid until the final battle, taking out the rogue Veela's a few at a time with the charms my Mother taught us."
"You missed a spot," Harry said, grinning, trying to lighten the mood. Draco looked shocked a moment before laughing,
"I suppose we did. Some of them... most of them, those without true Veelan blood in their system, don't have Chosen. They're freaks of nature. I've killed several since then, that I personally stripped of their wings in the war. They should have died, as Voldemort made sure everyone had found their Chosen. They were supposed to be in the middle of their bonding. That's a Veela's weakest moment, just so you know, when they're in the middle of bonding with their Chosen."
"Why didn't you ever bond with yours?" Ron asked, looking thoughtful and a bit suspicious.
"No wings, Weasley, nothing to impress my Chosen. That, and I never intended to. My Chosen, particularly, would have rejected me."
"You can't get a damn break, Draco, Merlin," Hermione said and then to her friends questioning looks, "a Veela that's rejected by it's Chosen- it's one and true soul mate to an extreme level- will live a half life, devoid of real happiness."
"I've done fine so far. I have my brood, and Kestral, who will no doubt take over one day. So, don't pity me, thanks. I am- was- one of the strongest Veelas in existence, with the highest ranked brood, as far as I know. I own a successful business and don't get too much grief over the Dark Mark, so I imagine I've done pretty well for myself. "
"But your Chosen-" Hermione began to ask and was cut off.
"I never approached my Chosen, though I know for sure what their response would have been. So it's a bit harder for me to slide into depression and misery. I went about it the easiest way." he said.
"What were they like, your Chosen," Ron asked, looking genuinely curious, "it's got to be one hell of a person to put up with you."
"Amazing. Truly, and utterly, amazing," Draco replied wistfully, without hesitation, and reaching into his box pulled out a picture, "aha, here it is."
The picture he showed them was a group of three Veelas, swooping down from high up in the air, wings spread to their fullest extent. As they fell toward the ground they flipped, sommersaulted and did sorts of barrel rolls though it was clear that Draco, a much younger Draco, was the best flier- easily outdoing the others. His wings also appeared to be the largest. When the tricks were over, and they were over quickly- an impressive feat- younger Draco landed, walking as his feet hit the ground and his wings still spread out. He grinned at whoever was taking the pictures, obviously proud of his flying. His wings were huge, the biggest of the three and the largest any of them had seen on any other Veela. They were nearly black closer to the top and around his shoulders then spreading out into a sparkling silver that seemed to reflect the sunlight, turning into the purest white at the tips.
"Wow," Hermione said, voice quiet. She passed the picture to Ron who looked duelly impressed,
"Glad you couldn't fly like that on a broom, we'd never have won shit." he said, watching picture Draco perform several times before passing the picture to Harry. Harry watched a bit longer than the others, gaping at it while they talked a bit about how Veela's fly exactly.
"Draco," Harry said, still looking at the picture, "I've taken down a lot of Veelas, and never seen wings quite like yours," his voice trailed off, watching the picture carefully.
"Because one, I really am Veela. I was born this way. None of the others were. Very few had any Veelan lineage at all. Two, I am a *very* strong Veela. Three, my Chosen fought in the final battle. I am meant to protect my Chosen, something I failed at by the way, so my wingspan is much larger- there are lots of reasons spanning from those three. Though I have been told my wings were the most beautiful many have ever seen. Other than other Veela's Chosen. They usually find them ugly. One called them raggedy once, it was... very rude."
"Well," Harry said, glancing back down at the picture one more time, "they're far from 'raggedy'. They're very nice, something to be proud of. What, exactly, is all this Chosen business?" he asked, handing the picture back to Draco.
"Hermione?" Draco offered, giving her the floor.
"'This Chosen business' as you put it, Harry, is very important to a Veela. Veelas are born with the soul purpose of hunting down their Chosen, and bonding with them. They're almost always accepted. It's an extreme soul mate for us. The Chosen feels the need to love and protect their Chosen. This person is the center of their universe, they are extremely jealous in regards to that person, known to have easily killed over them in the past. They're very protective of them as well, hence the talons, tail and wings. Though the wings serve so many other purposes. They're put on display like a mating ritual with their Chosen, like 'look at me, see how pretty I am?'. They're also known to give their Chosen pleasure, giving off a scent the Chosen deems comforting or pleasurable. They're the softest thing there is, also the sharpest if the Veela feels its Chosen is in danger. That's the gist of it, barely." Hermione said, sounding a lot like Professor McGonagall. Ron rolled his eyes behind her back.
"Sounds like serious business. So basically, you'd do anything for this person?" Ron asked, trying to sound like he'd listened to Hermione.
"Yes, to put it in an extreme understatement." Draco nodded.
"Except go and tell them they're your Chosen?" Harry asked.
"Except that. I don't have wings, you don't understand how important that is. Especially to my Chosen. It's just important. Before you ask, Harry, I know because I've studied them. I watched and waited for years. Gotten to know their personality as closely as possible, they would *not* accept. I assure you, though I appreciate your optimism. Being a Veela's Chosen means spending the rest of one's life with them. Forever. There is no backing down. If one backs down after bonding with a Veela, agreeing to become their Chosen... they usually die. Sometimes suicide, sometimes starving themselves to death, or they get locked up somewhere for being looney and waste away. I don't want to face that fate. *My* Chosen, while being the *most* amazing person in the entire world- would accept, after some time. Out of obligation to save my life, to keep me from being miserable. Being a Chosen's obligation is the worst thing for a Veela. We're nothing if not affectionate to our Chosen, not having that returned *hurts* us terribly. My Mother never even went looking for her Chosen for fear of being rejected."
"You're not even going to hint at a gender," Harry said, "I'm just curious as to why. Do we know them?" Harry replied and Hermione beamed at Harry for his show of intelligence.
"Good show, Harry, good show. You're very observant, that was a very Slytherin move. However, I'm not mentioning anything to identify my Chosen, because I know how the three of you are. You'll do some Gryffindor-ish style thing, trying to repay me for all the information I'm going to give you, or for Merlin knows what reason, and try to find them. However, I don't wish them found."
At that moment, a small house elf wearing an apron advertising an eatery just down the street popped in, trays of food in his hands, setting them out on the table between the four of them before disappearing.
"Oh, thank Merlin." Ron said, having grown tired of all the Veela education.