Disclaimer: Anything that you recognise does not belong to me; it belongs to the very talented J.K. Rowling. Lucky her! I am doing this purely to see if I can, I am not making any money off of this what so ever. Unlucky me!

Also, I have read a lot of stories on this site, so if anything is familiar, it is not on purpose… Could you simply take it as an homage?

P.S. Thankyou so much for the reviews, they warm my heart!

Draco Malfoy was happy to be going back to school on the Hogwarts Express. Though the summer holidays were great, he could be himself and not worry about any strange looks or comments if he helped someone out, it was so much easier being the bad guy of the school. The baddie never had to think or feel anything except bad thought and anger, at school he could hide behind this persona and not worry about being part veela, and the searching feeling inside of him, yearning desperately for his mate. He could keep people at a distance with the words and names he used; at home he wouldn't dream of spouting rubbish about mud bloods and pure bloods, his father would have his skin if he dreamt of starting a conversation bout the purity of blood, but at school… Well, at school he upheld the name of Malfoy, he could suppress everything about himself that was kind and sympathetic while in the public eye and only show what people expected, a wanna-be dark wizard who had no intention of doing anything with his life except follow in what the public perceived to be his father's footsteps.

What the world did not realise was that Lucius Malfoy, though still a death eater, was no longer a practicing death eater. He had paid a hefty price to be released from Lord Voldemort's active service, he still attended meetings and pledged his loyalty to the Dark Lord but his goals in life had changed. A brief stay in prison and a look at how much his son had changed without his guidance made Lucius Malfoy see the error of his ways. How he was following a mad man who would attempt to lure his son to being the right hand of evil while he, Draco's father, had been rotting in a jail cell for following a command that the said mad man had given. He had seen Voldemort for what he truly was, an insane megalomaniac who would stop at nothing to gain control of the world and anyone who did not help him or who got in his way be damned. Now, while there was no way in hell that Lucius was going to go marching up to that infernal fool Albus Dumbledore and pledge his allegiance to the side of light, he would help in any way he could. He'd noticed that his closest friend, Severus Snape, Draco's Godfather had been very attentive during all meetings he was summoned to and made a point of telling his childhood friend what he had missed when he wasn't summoned. He also wrote letters to Draco with not so subtle hints about what was going on outside of Hogwarts on the side of evil.

Draco's heart lifted as he saw the familiar red steam engine on the Platform of 9 ¾, feeling the familiar mask slip over his features, his eyes becoming a flinty silver, a smirk twisting his mouth. He might have the features of an angel after his seventeenth birthday but he could look like the very devil himself, come down to seduce innocent souls, if he tried hard enough. And what better way was there to look when everyone believed you wanted to pledge your life to the Dark Lord?

"Greg, Vince" Draco greeted his two school friends.

These two young males were also adept at hiding their true selves; while they did not visibly try hard at school only receiving mediocre marks they were actually as smart as tacks. Draco, Greg and Vince had subliminal messages down to an art form and could have two conversations at once, one verbal, the other visual, with seemingly innocent hand gestures meaning so much more than simply scratching an itch for example.

"Did you both have good summers?" Draco asked "I had an exceptional summer; Father went all out for my birthday."

At least that is what the people around him heard, what Draco said in the code he, Greg and Vince had worked out was: "The shit has hit the fan, can't talk now, I will tell you in private"

Greg and Vince grunted playing their roles of the mindless gorillas that followed Malfoy around looking menacing but through gestures and movements Gregory asked if all was well and Vincent reassured Draco that they would find a way to fix whatever had gone wrong.

The trio made their way to the foremost compartment and, after tossing out a few third year Ravenclaws (what good was it being evil if you didn't get some perks?), made themselves comfortable for the long trip North. Most of the trip they spent in casual conversation with an underlay of more serious conversation, while Draco prattled on about how important his father was, what gifts he had gotten for his birthday and how Slytherin was going to win the quidditch cup this year, he told Vince and Greg through signals about his summer, that he was a veela, how he had come into his inheritance on his seventeenth birthday and all that entailed, and finally about how he was destined to spend the rest of his life with one girl, his life mate, if he could just find them.

Once Draco had finished filling his friends in on his summer holidays and they had shared their news, both their fathers had been sent away on a mission for Lord Voldemort and not yet returned, Draco sighed.

"Come on boys, lets on work on our image. Do you know where they are?" He had no need to say who 'they' were; there were only three people on this train that they needed to know about, the three most prominent Gryffindors in the school, the three people they needed to appear against to cement their image as sympathetic to Voldemort's cause.

"Yeah, middle of the train, on the left side." Goyle answered, standing and cracking his knuckles in preparation for his menacing act, knuckles crack so much easily if they have already been done recently.

Making his way down the middle of the train he scratched in between his shoulder blades, a signal he knew his mates would interpret as: "Lets Get in Character", and drawing his wand he blasted the door open, his smirk getting wider when he saw Harry pointing his wand at him.

"Well, well, look what we have here, the mudblood, the pot head and the weasel" Draco turned to his friends and got told to do the old 'I am rich, the Weasley's are poor' routine by how many knuckles Vince cracked on his left hand.

Taking a deep breath he drawled, "Smell that boys? That's…" Draco was suddenly hit with the most incredible scent he had ever smelled, it was like all his favourite foods, flowers and memory scents all rolled into one, his heart gave a leap and the yearning ache inside of him ceased, a feeling of contentment replacing it. Looking into the compartment he saw that it was just the trio, they had no other Gryffindors in there with them.

"MY MATE IS HERMIONE GRANGER?" he thought in shock and, knowing he had to get out of there as soon as possible, Draco gave the signal for abort.

"Come on, let's go. We don't want to waste our time with these losers." Knowing that his friends would follow without question he made his way back down the centre of the train to their compartment.

"What was that all about?" Gregory asked, after making sure that the compartment was empty and the door was closed. "It was going well, they were getting right shirty and you were in top form."

"How much do you know about my gift?" Draco asked his friends

"Not much," replied Vince for the two of them "You should be able to do a very good dance when the need calls for it, if I remember correctly from the World Cup" he finished, cracking a small grin.

"Well I can find what I am searching for by scent, and back there I smelt it" he informed them, adding in signals 'AND HERMIONE GRANGER'S MY MATE!'

"Uh, mate, there were three of them in the compartment," Vincent said tentatively, not wanting to rile his friend up any further.

"Don't be ridiculous, I only go one way" Draco replied, being very careful with his words, just in case someone was listening.

"I don't think your gift differentiates my friend, here read this" Goyle handed Draco a book.

Veela are creatures that mate for life. A veela's mate is what most people like to call a 'soul mate' in that it is the compatibility of the souls of the two that is judged, for each veela only one person in the world is compatible enough to be their mate. They can identify their mates by smell, and once found can instantly appear at their mates side at will. If a veela does not find its mate, it can settle for another partner but will still be constantly searching for their true mate, whom once found, they will love with a passion that surpasses all other loves in their lives. A veela's sense of scent when finding their mate focuses solely on the mates attributes, it does not differentiate between sexes, thus creating same sex couples occasionally.

"Oh, well, I am royally stuffed aren't I?" Draco groaned after reading the text, "What is this anyway Greg?" He asked looking at the text in his hands.

"It's our DADA text book this year"

Draco groaned again, he wasn't royally stuffed, he was royally screwed! Not only was his mate one of the people he had to appear to hate, he would be learning about himself in a classroom with all the other seventh years, who might be able to join the dots and figure out what he was. This year Draco was going to have to work very hard to maintain his cool mask for the public eye.

"Oh Gods, I hope my mate is Hermione" he thought closing his eyes.

Ten points to the person who recognises the movie quote! Tell me in a review (hint hint). I will tell you next chapter so I am not accused of plagarising, uni has put the fear of God into my about that!