Hello, you lovely people! X

I'm so sorry for updating so late! BUT! I can explain. Do you know the Sims? That EA-Game in which you create characters and order them around and let them do whatever you want? Yeah, that? That had me CHAINED to the screen for days. And I regret nothing! NOTHING, I SAY! :D Ah, fun times, fun times. I'll try to make it up to you by making this chappie here a bit longer than usual, okay? :)

Anyway, thank you so much for all your favs, follows and reviews! They truly make my day and make me want to keep on writing! x – They are so very much appreciated! So, thank you, thank you, thank you! :)

Then, let's get on with it, shall we? :D

Enjoy your reading! x

Her broken-hearted Veela

Chapter V: Sting through the heart.

…

"He wished he could find a way back to believing, even though he knew better, that she was his to protect."

…

Hermione had lost her temper. She had let him win that little game of his. And because of that, she was now rushing to her bedroom in the Gryffindor tower, where she'd arrive, probably smelling of coffee and sweat. She would need a shower, she'd have to change quickly, and then run back to the Great Hall if she wanted to, at least, have a bite of anything at all before class started.

As she went up the stairs, her mind raced. What'd just happened, though? Malfoy had been so close to her face. Hermione hated to admit, but the witch had taken a good look at his pale complexion. The Pureblood was good-looking, indeed: Those high cheekbones weren't too harsh, but rather mildly outlined, graced by the faintest of blushes. Their shadows made his jawline more noticeable, which was nicely carved. The seamlessness in which his jawline landed in his chin was stunning, making it look pronounced, if ever so slightly. Unbeknownst to her, she'd peeked at his lips, and the Muggleborn had noticed they were somewhat pouty, perhaps attributing to his mean image. These features graced him with such virile appearance. And that naughty, platinum soft curl finessing his entire look was an irresistible touch.

What truly beguiled her, though, had been those eyes. From what she remembered, Malfoy had grey eyes, and the pools she had briefly lost herself into had been pitch black. It had been as if she had entered a cave full of secrets, and her curiosity be damned, but, in that moment of weakness, she had wanted to discover them all. They had been so intriguing, so alluring. It had been as if they had called her name, as if they invited her to explore their depths.

But what had happened, really? She'd been analysing the situation, and, him ruining her morning aside, Hermione realised that Malfoy had been civil with her. There had been no insulting, in fact, he'd called her by her actual name, and even thanked her for the muffin he'd stolen. The Slytherin seemed to act charmingly towards her, and that had left the Gryffindor feeling unsettled, specifically when he'd been so awfully close to her. She could've sworn he had wanted to kiss her. And she couldn't help but wonder why.

'I wonder what it would have been like, kissing him…' Hermione thought, not really paying attention to her own thoughts.

A dazzling blush threatened to flush up if she continued thinking about it. She shook it off, appalled. Now wasn't the time to get lost in thought, even less when it was Malfoy she was thinking about, that bloody idiot wasn't worth her time. Glancing up the stairs, she saw the first people coming out of Gryffindor's common room: Seamus and Neville. She let a sigh of relief, as she knew that she wouldn't have to feel awkward passing by them, because they were really nice guys. But, just in case, she would hide the coffee stain on her skirt with her books, hoping they'd ignore it. Unfortunately, some of the splotch showed on her lower jumper, as well, and she couldn't manage to cover it all up. The brunette hoped for the best.

"G'morning, Hermione!" Neville greeted her cheerfully, as he waved with his hand, "If you're going to pick Ron and Harry up, you might be in luck. I've just seen them enter the common room. They looked very tired, though."

"Looks like they're going to need lots of coffee and a bucket of ice-cold water." Seamus laughed.

"Good morning, Neville, Seamus. Well, they'll probably also need a slap in the face, if they ever truly want to wake up. I'll be on it, don't you worry." Hermione laughed with them, feeling somewhat lighter, "I'll see you in the Great Hall, you guys."

"See you!" They waved at her.

And with that, they were gone. Luckily, they hadn't noticed anything. But the true challenge lay behind the Fat Lady's portrait in their common room. Harry and Ron were there, and as sleepy as they were, her presence wouldn't go unnoticed to them. Hermione didn't want to tell them about her morning; she'd let Malfoy win by ruining her 'me-time' in the Great Hall, she wouldn't stoop so low and let him win again by pulling Harry and Ron into that little game of his. Much less knowing how overprotectively both boys would react. Hermione rolled her eyes: she could take care of herself, but neither Harry nor Ron seemed to understand, and it annoyed her greatly. Thus, telling her friends was not an option. So, she'd better come up with an excuse, and hopefully, they would believe it and head off downstairs.

Taking a deep breath in, Hermione uttered the password and got into Gryffindor's tower.

…

Two very drowsy Gryffindors were about to get out of their quarters, when suddenly, Hermione had pushed the Fat Lady's portrait to get in. Harry, Ron and Hermione simultaneously gasped:

"What are you doing here?"

Awkwardness ensued. The tension in the air suddenly became so thick one could cut through it. It was clear as day to all of them that Harry and Ron were headed downstairs to get breakfast, but what wasn't as simple was what Hermione was doing up in the tower. Knowing her, they were sure she'd long be at the Great Hall, probably having already eaten as she'd peacefully be reading The Prophet. And yet, there she was, standing in front of them, wanting to get in.

Breaking the ice, Harry was the first to talk.

"Morning, 'Mione. It's nice of you to come up here to pick us up, but you know you didn't have to, right?" The Boy Who Lived yawned and stretched. Merlin, he was tired.

"Morning, Harry. Yes, I know. I just wanted to-"

"-Is that coffee on your jumper?" Ron suddenly blurted out, pointing at the stain, thus making it the centre of attention for some seconds. Harry then elbowed him in the ribs and gave Hermione an awkward smile. Hermione furiously blushed and cursed under her breath. They had been quick to notice. "Oi! What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You're an idiot, Ron." Harry spat.

"But what did I do, now?" Ron asked, confused, "I only asked her a question. She's got coffee on her and I'd like to know why. No need to break my ribs, mate."

"Yes, Ronald, that is coffee on my uniform." Hermione rolled her eyes. Now was the time for her excuse. "I wasn't really paying attention to how I grabbed my cup while I was reading The Prophet and ended up spilling my coffee all over the table, and well, over myself, as well. And now I need to take a shower."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious.

"You, out of all people, were not paying attention?" The boy asked her in disbelief.

Before she could answer him, they heard a voice coming from behind. It was Lavender Brown.

"Hey, you're blocking the way!" She angrily complained, repeatedly and annoyingly tapping on Ron's shoulders with her finger, not really noticing it was him. When the gingerly boy turned around, her facial expression changed completely to a dreamy, flirtatious one. "Oh, Won-Won! I didn't mean to be rude. You know how it is, back to Hogwarts' beds, they're not as comfortable as the ones back at home. A girl's having a rough morning after some poor goodnight's sleep. Anyway, come with me, we'll go grab some breakfast, and then I can feed it to you! Oh, yes, that will be just so cute! C'mon, let's go, Won-Won!"

To Hermione and Harry, her chatter was irritating, yet Ron seemed to find it absolutely enchanting; it was like music to his ears. Lavender pulled on his hand and swept him away, leaving Harry and Hermione behind, watching the strange couple as they made their way downstairs. The Boy Who Lived shrugged and shook his head, but The Brightest Witch of Her Age frowned. She had that distant look on her face, the one that gave away when she felt a needle pierce through her heart.

"Ew." Harry said, pulling a disgusted face. Hermione snickered. Then, he looked at her, sympathetically, "Are you alright, 'Mione?"

Harry knew about Hermione's feelings for Ron. She would tell him that it was nothing, that he was imagining things, that she loved Ron like a brother, and he was her friend and nothing more. And Harry wouldn't push her; he wouldn't push the subject any further, but of course he knew that her saying those things about Ron was his equivalent for saying 'I love Ginny like a sister' and 'she's just my friend'.

"Yes, I'm fine, Harry, thanks." Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "I'm just going to take a shower. Go grab some breakfast, and I'll see you in class."

"Potions, right?"

"Potions."

With that, Harry pulled her into a quick hug, let her go, and went down the stairs. Hermione finally went to the bathroom and took her well-deserved shower. She had many things on her mind bothering her. Malfoy crossed her thoughts one more time, yet briefly in comparison to what truly troubled her: She still had to come to terms with Ron being with Lavender.

Once under the shower, she cried. At least, the water droplets would camouflage her tears, hiding them. She held her hand near her chest, feeling that painfully familiar sting, as she thought about Ron and Brown.

A familiar sting a certain blonde would feel, as well. And like any other time she had felt it, he would not be amused about it in the least.

…

The Great Hall was rapidly becoming more and more alive with every student entering the room. It went from being idyllically quiet to becoming loud with chatter. The rich odour of the food was now combined with the smell of all students. To his Veela senses, that stench and the sounds were dizzying and nauseating. Luckily for him, Granger had the most intense, beautiful and calming fragrance, and usually –even before knowing about his Veela heritage–, he could focus on that, managing to ignore almost all other scents. Some of the smells he found pleasant as well were those of his friends, such as Zabini, Nott, Crabbe, or Goyle.

Zabini smelled like the salt of the ocean, a glass of Spanish Rioja, and freshly mowed grass; whereas Nott's scent was musky, like how a tree's root smelled after it rained, burnt-down wood still dimly lit, and smoked-out black peppercorns. Crabbe's was a very particular one, his smell was bittersweet, it was like molten salted caramel, bitter orange peel dunked into darkest Belgian chocolate and, strangely enough, the smoke of Cuban cigars. And Goyle, even though he sometimes was in dire need of a shower, smelled like a field of lemon trees, freshly chopped Indian ginger and a bunch of parsley.

But none, absolutely none, topped hers.

The blonde took a deep breath in, as if trying to take her smell in. And he reckoned her aroma still lurked there from before, but it agitated him when he noticed that her fragrance wasn't growing in its intensity. She wasn't coming back. The Slytherin frowned. If she had only gone to take a shower and change, she should be back by now.

'Why isn't she back yet?' He thought, distressed.

Then, Draco felt it. That familiar pain in his chest; that needle that had been stinging his heart for about half a year on and off, was back. The difference was that he now knew why he was feeling it, opposed to when he would feel pain at random times of the day, and he didn't understand where it was coming from. Once finding out about her being his mate, though, Draco knew that she was feeling hurt. Unfortunately, he couldn't pinpoint what the cause for her hurt was. And that enraged him for two reasons: One, someone was hurting his Hermione. And two, he didn't know who that was, and that meant he couldn't do anything about it… yet. But he would find out, soon. And he would make whoever was hurting her pay.

The rage within him grew larger as he pictured someone hurting her, and the worry in his chest as he imagined something happening to her intensified greatly. His breathing became heavy, his hands clenched into angry fists, his knuckles paling at the sheer force with which he was clamping them. Strangely, he felt his nails digging into his skin much more painfully than they normally would, but he didn't care. All he cared about in that moment was that his Hermione was safe. Draco felt a mat of emotions grow at the pit of his throat; everything he wanted to do was roar. He gritted his teeth, and he felt his tongue go dry. His eyes became completely black, and he felt very intense tingles on his back.

Draco stood up abruptly, wanting to rush to his mate, but suddenly, a hand tightly grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him back down. His Veela senses smelled him, before he saw who had dragged him down.

Salt of the ocean, a glass of Spanish Rioja, and freshly mowed grass.

Blaise Zabini.

…

"Fuck off, Zabini, I've got places to be." Draco spat, trying to free himself from Blaise's grasp.

The Italian shook his head, his gaze never leaving his, even though he was feeling a mixture of slight anguish and grim curiosity at the blackness of Draco's eyes. They shone with fury and menace, silently threatening anybody who dared rub him the wrong way. His eyes intimidated Blaise, they managed to unsettle him, and he'd only looked for a second.

"Malfoy, calm down. I'm sure your mate's okay. I'm sure your mate's fine." Zabini told him, hoping to calm him down.

The blonde gasped in surprise and frowned at him, as his eyes slowly, reluctantly, went back to its usual mercury. His Veela side decided to trust Zabini's word, seeing that all Gryffindors were at their table and thus there was no one who could hurt Hermione while she was in her tower. That aside, he started to feel like his Hermione was calming down, as the ache in his chest was becoming less and less. He'd let it go, just this once.

"Let's go to a quieter place and talk about this, hm?"

Zabini knew, and Draco wasn't sure he liked it. Nevertheless, Malfoy wanted him to answer some questions, so going to a quiet place to have a little conversation about his condition surely wouldn't hurt. Thus, both Slytherins went to their usual hidden spot within the castle, the spot they went to whenever they skipped class or snuck out at night. It was a narrow corner near Flitwick's office, but it served its purpose well, as they had never been found there.

Not wasting any more time, Draco snapped at Blaise.

"When and how?"

"Winter break. Your parents talked to my parents, my parents told me." The Italian nonchalantly replied. "They told me you're a Veela and what that means for you. Also, your parents wanted me to keep an eye on you."

"Figures." The blonde rolled his eyes, huffing, "Who else knows?"

"Just me. I wasn't going to tell Crabbe or Goyle, I'm not that big of an idiot. Salazar knows they're too immature to realise what this implies, so who knows what they'd do if they knew. Probably something really stupid, even for their standards – and holy fuck, they're low."

"They're not low, they're almost non-existing."

"Your words, not mine! But, yes, you're right." Zabini chuckled, as he shrugged his shoulders. A quick moment of silence went by before he called him, "Hey, Malfoy?"

"Hm?"

"You alright?"

It was a simple question, and Draco could get away with it by simply saying 'yes' or 'no'. But he decided against it. He needed to vent. He needed to vent to someone whom he knew would listen to what he had to say. Ever since they had broken it down for him, his parents hadn't been an option, because he knew that they knew he wouldn't be doing fine, and they didn't need any more reminders of that. Everything Draco would tell them would be redundant, and frankly, it would be unnecessarily hurtful. For all of them. – Telling Crabbe, Goyle, or Nott wouldn't be helpful at all, so Zabini was his best shot. They had known each other even before Hogwarts, they had always been best mates. To Draco, Blaise was the closest thing to a brother he'd ever have, and vice versa. And so, they would tell each other everything. Without filters, without thinking twice before speaking; they would directly voice their opinions, unapologetically. He could be real around Blaise, not the usual bully the school made him out to be, but just a normal boy with his normal problems and wishes. – And he whole-heartedly hoped he would soon get to be this way around his Hermione, as well.

"Am I… alright? Fuck, no. Haven't been for a while. My mind's been fucking with me for a long time, and learning about my Veela heritage hasn't given me closure. It's given me a mate and a deadline, none of them of my choosing. And I've no control over what's going to happen. It's either get lucky and be loved, or get wrecked and die. A literal fucking deadline."

"Pun intended?"

"Fuck off, Zabini."

"Sweet mother of fuck, Malfoy, relax, it was just a joke."

Draco simply rolled his eyes and carried on talking.

"I go from being my normal self to going ballistic with jealousy over something I've just recently come to understand. I sometimes yearn to kill people, and I picture in my mind how I'd do it. The more time passing by, the bigger the urge and the more difficult it is to control." He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh, "Fuck."

"So, just a couple of minutes ago, back in the Great Hall… Did you feel that itch?"

Within only a second, Draco's pupils were extremely dilated, the grey in his eyes barely to be seen.

"Yes." There was a disturbing distortion in his voice, it was truly petrifying to hear. "No one will hurt my mate. They try, they die."

And just like that, Draco was back to normal. He looked at Zabini and made a face, as if to say 'see what I mean?'

"Holy shit, that was intense." Blaise mused, "So, this Veela-thing…"

"…Sucks? Yes, you could say that."

"Well then. Sucks to be you, mate."

"Cheers."

The Slytherins snickered dryly. And again, there was silence. This time, it lasted for several minutes. It wasn't stiff, nor difficult to handle, as both men were lost in thought. Zabini's parents had told him about the consequences Draco would ultimately face if he didn't find his mate in time, or if he didn't succeed at making his mate fall in love with him. He'd die. His lifelong best friend, he would die of a broken heart if his mate decided to reject him. Zabini frowned and looked at Malfoy, as the blonde was standing there on one foot, while the other one lazily rested against the wall. His arms were crossed, and his silvery gaze was lost in the distance, as if looking out for his mate.

"Who is it?"

His voice brought him back into reality. Draco looked back at Blaise, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Hermione Granger."

Before Zabini could say anything, Malfoy had gone. It was time for potions class.

…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHO! Chapter five is up! Yeaaaaaah!

I really hope you liked this one, let me know what you think! :) As always, favs, follows and reviews are highly, highly, highly appreciated and they make my daaaaaaaaaaay :D

Hopefully I can come back with a new chapter soon enough. Just know that I've many more ideas for this story!

Thank you again so so so so much for your support! Thank you so so so so much for reading my story! X

YOU GUYS ROOOOOOOOCK! X

Byeeee ~

Skyselisse