About A Boy and His Veela

by bleedingxheart

On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, Draco Malfoy discovers something about himself. He's a Veela. And his mate is Harry Potter. Fate can really be a bitch sometimes. HPDM Slash Veela fic.

14. He's A Veela

AN: Thanks so much to those who reviewed, I truly appreciate it. Here's Chapter 14!

About A Boy And His Veela: Chapter Fourteen – He's A Veela

Monday 15th September – 8:00am

AZKABAN BREAKOUT: Death Eaters Now At Large

The Daily Prophet can exclusively report that in the early hours of last night, a breakout was staged at Azkaban Prison by You-Know-Who himself. Four Ministry guards were killed during the breakout, while eight others are currently in St Mungo's being treated for serious injuries. Mr Archibald Tills, 39, was one of the few guards who escaped unharmed from the breakout; 'It was about 1:00am, I'd say, and I was patrolling the South Wing when the very ground itself seemed to shake, and I heard a bang louder than one of Filibuster's firecrackers from the North Wing. Naturally I went to see what was going on, but by the time I got there the prisoners were gone and there were just bodies everywhere.'

It has been confirmed that the North Wing of Azkaban is where the most important prisoners resided, including the Death Eaters who were imprisoned last June after suspicious happenings at the Ministry of Magic itself. The Daily Prophet can confirm that the eleven Death Eaters, as well as a dozen or so You-Know-Who sympathisers, all former residents of the North Wing, have escaped and are at large once more.

Among this number is prominent figure of the wizarding world turned escapee, Lucius Malfoy. Although all the escaped individuals (pictured on page 2) are known to be dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances, Mr Malfoy has recently had to sign a divorce from his wife, Ms Narcissa Black, and thus it can be imagined he is slightly more vindictive than usual. Nonetheless, The Daily Prophet urges its readers to contact the Ministry immediately upon sighting any of the escapees, and to exercise caution when out amongst the general public.

Hermione gasped loudly, quickly drawing the attention of her friends. She threw the newspaper down onto the table and spread it out with shaking hands, so that they could see the front page.

"Azkaban breakout," Ron read from the other side of the table, paling as he did so.

Hermione read the front page article aloud, Ron and Harry both listening intently. When she'd finished, a silence fell over them. Hermione robotically turned the page so that the faces of the escapees were sneering up at them.

"So he's forgiven him, then." Harry said softly.

"What's that, mate?"

"Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort's forgiven him." Harry said, pointing at the photo of Draco's father. Lucius gazed at up at them with icy grey eyes, an indifferent sneer on his thin lips. "He screwed up their mission to get the prophecy, but he's been freed anyway."

"Maybe You-Know-Who just wants to free him so he can torture him?" Ron suggested with a grin.

"Maybe." Harry looked around the Great Hall. Judging by the cheerful chatter and laughter coming from the majority of the students, the news hadn't spread just yet. Hermione appeared to be one of only a few Gryffindors who bothered to get the Daily Prophet.

"Oh no," Hermione said, drawing Harry's attention. "Give me a moment, you guys, I have to do something."

Ron looked on, mystified, as Hermione got to her feet and hurried halfway down the table, taking a seat next to a girl Harry recognised by sight but not by name. She looked completely distraught.

"Who's that?" he asked Ron, gesturing to the girl.

"Helena Rivers." Ron answered, still looking mystified as to what Hermione was doing. "She's in our year."

"Oh." Harry watched Hermione comforting the girl. "I wonder what's wrong with her?"

"You idiots," Ginny scoffed, appearing beside them, seemingly from nowhere. She gestured to Helena. "Her father is one of the Ministry guards who got injured in the breakout. He patrols the North Wing."

"Oh…" Now it made more sense.

"Still, big news, huh?" Ginny said, now waving a hand towards the paper.

"Yes," Harry said, looking again at the photo of Lucius Malfoy. The sight of the cold grey eyes and pale, pointed face brought to mind another individual, and Harry glanced across the Hall to the Slytherin table.

There, it was a much different scene to the Gryffindor table. No-one was visibly as upset as Helena Rivers, although Harry noted several of the Slytherins looked noticeably paler than usual. The majority of the students there had newspapers, and were sitting with heads bowed, deep in discussion.

Draco Malfoy was sitting quietly, eating a slice of toast, a copy of the Daily Prophet folded beside him. Harry could see Malfoy's friends were clearly discussing the news in great detail, yet as he watched, not once did Malfoy contribute to the conversation.

Harry had never really felt sorry for Malfoy before, but knowing now that Lucius was out of jail and the blonde would probably very soon be in the middle of a war of 'I-want-to-instil-my-values-into-my-son', Harry did feel sorry for him, just a bit.

At that moment, while Harry was thinking this, Draco's gaze suddenly snapped from a plate of bacon straight to Harry, and their gazes locked. Harry was taken aback at the action, feeling completely frozen to his seat. Even on the opposite of the Hall, the silvery shade of Draco's eyes was perfectly obvious, and Harry felt slightly woozy as he involuntarily recalled the first day of term, when he'd been staring right into them before their owner had leant forward and kissed him.

An undeniable wave of lust flowed through him, so strong it nearly knocked the breath out of him. Heat spread over his cheeks as his body begged to be allowed to go to the Slytherin table and touch the blonde. Another emotion arose within him as well, a strange sense of protectiveness, because all of a sudden Harry could see the sheer number of students who were also watching Draco with lust in their eyes, and Harry wanted to protect the Slytherin from them, because Draco was his…

"…don't you think, Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry realised his mouth was slightly open and promptly closed it, looking away from Draco with difficulty in order to face Ginny, who was looking at him expectantly.

"I said, don't you think it's weird that Scrimgeour didn't make a comment in that article?" Ginny repeated patiently.

"Oh, right." Now she'd pointed it out, it was weird, come to think of it. "Yeah, that is weird." He agreed.

Ginny and Ron launched into a discussion about the Minister's motivations and possible courses of action, but Harry was barely listening. He didn't look to the Slytherin table again, but even he couldn't ignore the warmth that still lingered on his cheeks and the throbbing reminder of the experience, which he kept concealed underneath the table.

HPDM

12:25pm, Dungeons

Draco allowed himself a moment to check his robes and ensure his hair was presentable. He was standing before the door to Professor Snape's study. Break had just begun, and Draco knew his godfather would be in there. All being in order, he raised a pale fist and knocked three times.

"Severus?" he called. "It's Draco."

The door swung open at once, revealing the calculating black eyes of his godfather, who gazed at him appraisingly for a few moments.

"Draco," he greeted, coolness to his tone. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"May I come in?" Draco asked by way of response.

"Certainly." Snape pulled the door wider, gesturing Draco in past him. Draco took the seat opposite the darkly wooded desk as Snape swept over and sat behind the desk, still watching Draco.

An icy silence fell between the pair. After all, the last time they'd been alone together in the same room, Draco had run away, slamming the door in the process. Contact between the two since then had been extremely minimal, limited only to class times.

Draco fidgeted with the sleeve of his black school robe. His reasons for seeing his godfather again in this manner were…delicate, and although he'd promised himself he'd do this, now he was here, the Malfoy pride was kicking in once more.

Snape watched his godson struggle with himself in vague amusement, but still determined on not being the one to speak first.

"Severus, I…" Draco cleared his throat and tried again, "I need your help." He scowled and dropped his gaze to his lap, hating every second of this.

Snape raised his eyebrows, honestly surprised. He had assumed at first his godson wanted to discuss the Azkaban breakout that the Daily Prophet had reported, but this appeared to be leading in an entirely different direction. "I see." He said in a measured voice. "Would the assistance be related to your Veela heritage?"

"Yes."

Snape nodded silently, relaxing slightly. So, the boy had finally given in. He'd been waiting for a fortnight for this to happen. Draco was stubborn and filled with Malfoy pride, just like Lucius had been while he was at school. Snape knew it would take some time before Draco's Slytherin instincts for self-preservation kicked in, and the need for his mate become overwhelming. Narcissa would be pleased.

"Do you require assistance in wooing them?" Snape asked matter-of-factly. "I know of several texts which will help you in your quest to complete the bonding process."

Draco shook his head. "I wanted to ask you whether you could give me a potion, actually."

Snape's black eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What kind of potion?"

Draco swallowed reflexively, determinedly keeping his gaze lowered. "A potion that will…lessen the effects of resisting the bond." He said quietly.

"What?" Snape was sure he had misheard the boy.

"I can't take it anymore, Severus." Draco looked up now, his wide silver eyes filled with unspeakable misery. "I want to give in to the urges so badly, but I can't, I just can't…" he swallowed again, his eyes still fixed on his godfather. "You must help me." He said. " I cannot think of any other alternative."

A mixture of anger, impatience and pity mounted in the Potions Master as he looked at his godson. "Draco," he said quietly, "there is another alternative, and you know perfectly well what it is, and that it is by far the best for you to take."

Draco shook his head frantically, so that his silvery-blonde hair swayed over his handsome face. "I can't," he said. "He will reject me."

So it's a he, Snape thought dryly. One thing is solved, at least. Aloud, he said, "I suppose you still insist on not telling me who it is?"

"Yes."

"You cannot know that your mate will reject you, Draco."

"I do!" Draco protested, his Veela side quickly taking over his mannerisms and thoughts. "He is perfect, he is everything, but he hates me. He truly hates me, Severus! And I know the moment he discovers the truth he will reject me without a second thought, and I will die of a broken heart."

Snape had never really appreciated before how melodramatic being an un-mated Veela could make someone. He felt a strong desire to just slap some sense into the boy, but it was with remembrance to his promise to Narcissa that he refrained, knowing she would want him to look after her son. Still, he couldn't resist inwardly rolling his eyes at Draco's declarations.

"You should not fight it." Snape warned. "I have impressed this upon you too many times, Draco. If you fight it, you will eventually go insane."

"I know that," Draco snapped, his regular self shining through momentarily. "That's why I thought you might have a potion to help me while I…sort myself out."

Snape was silent, thinking hard. He had promised Narcissa he would help Draco however he could. Then again, it was ridiculous that Draco couldn't get over his childish fear of rejection in order to woo his mate.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am sorry, Draco." He said softly, "but I cannot do as you wish me to when you can still solve the problem so easily yourself. You still appear to be sane and coherent, and thus I do not feel my interference is absolutely necessary."

Draco's silvery eyes widened, and he leaned forward, looking quite wild. "A dreamless sleeping draught, then," he begged. "Please, Severus. I don't want to dream about him anymore."

Snape absently rubbed his hooked nose, a habit he'd been unable to grow out of over the years, as he considered. Coming to a decision, he lowered his hand. "Very well," he relented. "I will prescribe a dreamless sleeping draught for you, but you may only use it once a week, twice, at most. I do not want you to become addicted to it."

Draco looked like he didn't particularly care if he became addicted or not, if it would stop him dreaming about his mate, but he recognised the gesture for what it was. "Thank you, Severus." He said sincerely.

Severus glanced at the clock hung over the study door. "Break is nearly over," he remarked. "I'll give you the potion now so you can take it to your dorm."

Snape got up and rummaged amongst the shelves that lined the wall behind his desk, eventually producing a small bottle filled with purple liquid. He handed it to Draco.

"Thank you," Draco repeated himself.

Snape didn't deign to acknowledge his godson's gratitude. "Remember, take it directly before bed." He reminded him. "I will see you later, Draco. Please look after yourself, and give that alternative the consideration it's due."

"Right." Draco said softly, already at the door. He'd already guessed the entirety of their conversation would be relayed to his mother. "I'll see you during Potions, I guess."

"Indeed. Good afternoon to you, Draco."

HPDM

From the desk of Severus S. Snape
Professor of Potions, Head of Slytherin House, Master of Potionery (First Class)
Hogwarts

12:45pm

Narcissa,

Forgive me for resorting to this method of communication; I know how concerned you are about spies and the like. However, I am eager for you to receive this as soon as possible, and I plan to put the highest protection I can on the envelope. I write to you directly after a visit from your son, during break. He came to ask me for assistance in the form of a potion to ease his suffering, as he perpetually refuses to make any steps towards completing the bonding process with his mate.

Rather than making the Sense-Numbing Potion I know would suffice, I adhered to his demands by instead granting him the use of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. If you disapprove of his use of such, let me know immediately, and I will remove it from his possession.

I do not write, however, merely to relate your son's demands for potions from me. During our conversation about his mate, he revealed two vital pieces of information that have led me to a likely suspect for the identity of his mate. Firstly, he told me his mate is a male, and secondly, he told me his mate would never accept him because his mate hates him.

Remembering the strength of the power boost Draco received after his birthday, I concluded his mate was thus male, magically powerful, with a hatred for Draco. There are only two male students I am aware of who truly hate your son. One is Arthur Weasley's youngest boy, Ronald, who is magically mediocre to a pitiable degree, and thus he simply could not be Draco's mate. The other is Harry Potter.

Narcissa, I think your prediction has come true, loath as I am to admit it. I have heard Filius and Minerva both mention the boy's marked improvement in practical class work over the last fortnight, to almost astounding levels. And Potter and Draco have always shared a rivalry filled with hatred since their first day at this school. If you are correct (and I also, now, by extension) then Draco's outright fear of confronting his mate is understandable, if it is indeed Potter. I can imagine that Draco, remembering the past occurrences between them, would be simultaneously desperate to tell Potter and terrified of doing so.

As I have assured you on numerous occasions, I believe he will submit to his Veela urges before he loses his grip on his sanity. He appears to be in good health, although admittedly his chosen path is getting to him. His asking anyone, especially me, for help is a sign that the Veela urges are starting to win the battle between his two sides.

As for Potter, the boy has been so starved of love during his upbringing that I do not doubt that once he knows the situation, he will accept Draco with open arms. Pitiable, yes, but it will be fortunate for Draco.

I will continue to watch over your son, as I promised you, Narcissa. I swear I will not let you down.

Regards,

Severus Snape

HPDM

7:50pm

"Salazar," Draco intoned lazily, and the stone door that was concealed in the wall slid open. He strode through, determined to still present the image of the calm and in control Malfoy.

The Slytherin common room was in an uproar – at least, compared to its usual standards, it was. Slytherins of all ages were huddled in groups, either sitting in chairs or standing, and conversing in low whispers that made it seem like the room was filled with a slight breeze.

Draco had no doubt they were discussing the news from this morning, and sure enough, several people looked round at him and stared as he made his way through the room. Most of the gazes were filled with curiosity, although he did feel quite a few girls' gazes were more aimed towards checking him out.

Speeding up slightly, he reached the door that led to the boys dormitory corridors. As Slytherins were located underground, their dorms were set out in a labyrinth of corridors and passageways that took quite some getting used to. Draco walked the path to the sixth-year boys' dormitory, his feet automatically knowing which way to turn.

He walked straight in, finding his male friends were all present within the room. They waved their greetings.

"Get your Herbology stuff done, Draco?" Blaise asked from his desk.

Draco had gone to the library after dinner, having wanted to look something up to get some extra information for one of his answers. "Yes," he responded.

"Many people there?"

"No, not really. Granger was there, but then again, what else is new?"

His friends gave appreciative chuckles. Draco wandered over to his bed and sat down on the edge.

"I would've thought you guys would be joining in with the gossip in the common room," he remarked.

Blaise made a contemptuous noise. "With those idiots? Please. There's nothing any of them are saying that we didn't hear already during lunch or dinner."

"Plus," Crabbe added, "it's not a nice feeling, being stared at all the time."

Seeing Draco's confused look, Blaise hastened to explain. "Surely you noticed them watching you when you came in?" he said. "Those that aren't truly involved like to watch the children of the Death Eaters that are known to have escaped."

"Ah."

Goyle now joined the conversation. "I'm half-expecting a letter from my father tomorrow," he remarked. "Probably warning me against associating with you, now that the Dark Lord's got his main supporters back."

Crabbe heaved a little sigh. "Me too."

"Just don't reply to them, if they come," Blaise advised.

"What about you, Nott?" Draco questioned, but it seemed to take the somewhat stringy boy a long time to answer.

"I don't know," he said slowly, keeping his back to the rest of them. "We'll see, I guess."

The other boys exchanged looks at Nott's odd behaviour. Now that Draco thought about it, the other boy had been acting weird for a few days.

"Are you right, Nott?" Blaise asked, voicing what they were all thinking.

"Fine, I'm fine."

"Right." Doubtful, Blaise turned his gaze back to Draco. "And how are you going, anyway? Pansy's been all in a flutter over you for a fortnight."

Draco adopted his haughtiest tone. "I'm perfectly fine." He declared.

"How're things going with your ma-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Blaise." Draco hissed in response, irritated that he couldn't even escape the mention of his mate when he was around friends who didn't know who it was.

"Sorry, I was just asking." Blaise said, sounding slightly hurt, but there was nothing Draco could do about that. He didn't want anyone else to know who his mate was, let alone how difficult it was when he couldn't stop fantasising about walking right up to Harry and confessing everything, and then consummating the bond in an abandoned classroom somewhere.

Even today, at breakfast, he had felt his mate's gaze on him and had looked up. He'd released the Allure without meaning to at the sight of those bright green eyes, must to the chagrin of those around him. He'd passed it off as an accident, claiming that he was still learning how to control the ability, but he knew it was because his Veela side was getting impatient to claim its mate, and honestly, Draco had no idea how much longer he'd be able to keep that part of him controlled.

What he'd told Severus during break was true – he just knew that if he told Harry the truth, Harry would reject him, because they hated each other. Well, Harry hated him, anyway, whereas Draco had found it increasingly hard since school had started to find anything about the stupid, perfect Gryffindor to hate. He couldn't remember why he ever had in the first place.

No, it was better off for everyone if only he knew how much he was suffering. Not even Pansy knew, although of course she had an inkling.

"I'm going to study for a while," Draco announced, and after gathering his books and equipment together, he shut himself into his four-poster, knowing perfectly well he wouldn't get a single piece of work done because his head would be filled with thoughts of his mate.

HPDM

8:00pm

"Harry, I've figured it out, I've figured it out!"

Hermione's excited shriek echoed through the Gryffindor common room as she came flying in through the portrait hole, bushy hair in disarray and a sheet of parchment clutched in one hand. Harry and Ron both watched, bemused, as she ran towards them, coming to a screeching halt before Harry. Panting, she beamed and handed him the sheet of parchment.

Harry took it, and leant back in his chair to look at it. It was the same sheet of parchment on which Harry had been writing words he recognised from his nightly dream. He had added another this morning, 'ensemble', and Hermione had only had a chance to look at it at dinner. She had immediately exclaimed something about the library and then took off, and they hadn't seen her since then.

Next to where he had written 'tame' more than a week ago, Hermione had written down a phrase.

"Je t'aime." Harry read aloud, and then looked up at Hermione.

"It's French, Harry!" she said. Having collapsed in a chair opposite them, she beamed happily again. "The language the voice is speaking in your dream is French."

Harry looked down again. Next to all of the words he had written down over their few weeks at school was a presumably French phrase, written in Hermione's handwriting. Beside 'ensemble', however, was an English phrase: 'together.'

"So what does that mean, if the voice is speaking French?" Ron asked.

"I did some research-" Harry and Ron shared a half-exasperated, half-amused grin, "-into the nature of French, and the origins, and everything. It derives from what was called Vulgar Latin, or the Latin of the people in Rome, and it's most commonly known around the world as la langue d'amour, or the language of love."

"Love?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"Love." Hermione confirmed. "Je t'aime actually means 'I love you.'"

"Blimey, mate," Ron turned to Harry, "That must be some dream that you have."

"Ron!" Harry felt himself blush slightly. "It's not like that."

"Magically, the use of French is very popular." Hermione went on. "It's most common association is with the Veela. Veela are creatures of love, and although they originally come from out of Bulgaria, it's only natural that they're associated with the language of love, but the idea that a Veela could go to this school is laughable…"

Hermione kept talking, but opposite her, Harry's heart had started pounding, and he could practically feel the blood rushing to his ears. He thought of the shade of hair the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup, and saw in his mind's eye the exact same shade of hair that adorned a certain Slytherin's head. He remembered feeling like he had no control over his actions, and recalled the multitude of students who he'd seen losing their heads whenever Malfoy walked past. He particularly remembered Lisa Turpin, and the way she had jumped the Slytherin, ten days ago, only to be unable to recall what she had done once Malfoy was gone.

He remembered the train on the first day back, and how no one seemed to be able to remember exactly what it was that had caused the feelings of overwhelming lust that day.

Harry did.

Malfoy staring at him all the time. Malfoy's changed appearance. His anger when Ron had called Harry 'mate.' That kiss, the kiss that still sent shivers up Harry's spine when he remembered it. Malfoy was more involved in this entire situation than he had ever suspected.

He's a Veela, Harry brain whispered, and the realisation seemed to hit him like a kick to the gut. Harry wasn't sure exactly how this information related to his malfunctioning magic levels, or the incident at Diagon Alley, or even why he himself kept experiencing unbelievable attraction and a feeling of protectiveness when he looked at Malfoy sometimes, but he didn't doubt that it would if he researched it.

As Hermione continued to prattle on about her theories, and Ron listened with the devotion of one who is completely smitten, Harry vowed to himself that from now on he would research as much as he could to confirm his own theory. He knew relatively little about Veela, bar that they were some of the most beautiful creatures on the planet.

I'll figure out why Malfoy being a Veela seems to be affecting me, Harry decided. And then I'll consult with Hermione to see if I'm right.

Having decided on a course of action, Harry tuned back in to what Hermione was saying, but couldn't help but think again of the precise shade of silvery-gold that was Malfoy's hair.

TBC

AN: Yay! That was quite long, which is always good. Things are finally starting to happen, which I'm sure the majority of you will be very happy about, right?

To justify the whole French thing, before I even started writing this fic I decided to incorporate French being the 'language of love' into my story because it just seems logical that elegant, beautiful creatures of love like Veela would speak the language of love. Lame, I know, but it gives me an excuse to throw in some Français into my writing. Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind :)

Well, thanks for reading, please review and I'll see you next time!

bleedingxheart

(P.S Chapter is currently unbeta-ed, so again, all mistakes belong to me).