Hey guys! Glad to hear that you liked the last chapter. Not quite as many
reviews as I'm used to, but they are appreciated all the same. Now, on
with the show!
*******
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket; never let it fade away. Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket; save it for a rainy day.
******
Narcissa unlinked her arm from Hermione and began to walk over the battlefield. Hermione, still unsure of Narcissa's motive for bringing her away from the two boys, posed a question. "So, Narcissa, you are a Dejilac?"
Narcissa, a little surprised by the question, said, "Yes, but how did you know that?"
"Oh, Draco mentioned it to me. I had thought that all of the Veelas were supporting Voldemort, but he told me differently. He said it was only the Yelsa."
"And he is correct in that. Now I have a question to ask of you, Hermione. How did you and my Draco become acquainted? I don't recognize the name Granger, so I assume that you are not a pure blood. Also, you do not appear to be a Slytherin, seeing that the dominating color in your ensemble is red."
"Oh!" said Hermione, "It was actually by a bet. We bet on the outcome of a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. We promised a month of servitude. I lost and became Draco's servant, or slave, in a way, since I wasn't paid. The bet ended last Thursday, but a friendship came out of it."
Narcissa nodded, "Now you say you were his slave. In what way?"
Hermione, seeing where the tall Veela was going with this question, widened her eyes and said rather quickly, "Oh no! Not in that way! Professor McGonagall even gave me a ring to protect against it."
Narcissa nodded approvingly when Hermione's ring was thrust in front of her. She then said, "Minerva has done well. I wouldn't put it past Draco to take advantage of you."
"If you don't mind me asking, do you not trust him?"
Narcissa looked sharply at her and said, "No, I trust him, but I also know his history. His father had many mistresses that were constantly in the manor. During Christmas holidays in his fifth year, he was given the gift of a young lady for the night for his birthday. Draco, somewhat afraid, refused the gift. Lucius wasn't too happy about that. From then on, Draco has had a thirst to prove himself."
Hermione nodded and vowed to remember this. Even thought the tall Veela had spoken of the dark past of her husband nonchalantly, she knew that this matter must have been something that upset Narcissa in the past.
"Come now," said Narcissa, "Show me about this place. I will also need to speak with Minerva. Is she around?"
"Oh yes," said Hermione. She then led Narcissa off to find the old Transfiguration professor.
*******
Two first years were skipping rocks in the water.
"Hey, Lauren!" one shouted, "Watch this!"
Her rock skipped three times.
"Wow! Nice job, Ashton!"
Lauren looked across the water. "Ashton," she said, pointing at the waters, "What's that?"
"I don't know," said Lauren, "You don't think we are under attack again?"
"I don't know! I hope not! Let's get Professor Snape!"
The two girls shrieked, threw down the remainder of their rocks, and ran to get the professor.
******
Professor Snape looked up at the ashen clouds and frowned. "Another dismal day," he thought, "in this endless valley of ashes and soot." Students walked about talking, a few of the younger ones on the grass attempting to turn a pool into rum. "Fools. Turning water into rum has Spanish in the incantation. They are still using the 'turn this water into rum.'"
Snape ran a pale hand through his raven hair and sat on the grass. "It shouldn't be this way. We should be teaching them how to kill. Sword fighting will only land us in Voldemort's hands."
"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!" yelled the voices of two prepubescent girls, breaking his meditation. Scowling, he rose to meet them, ready to disciple. Finding that they were Slytherins, his harshness melted.
"Miss Bourgeois, Miss Brit, what is the matter?" he said stiffly.
Lauren stepped forward, "Professor, there is something in the water, and we don't know what it is!"
Snape sighed. "It was probably a fish."
"No!" said Ashton, "It was big, but the fog was thick out so we couldn't see what it was."
"Come along. I'll get to the bottom of this. It was probably just a large fish," said Snape as he strode to the lake's water, the two girls in tow. Suddenly, he stopped. The two following first years, not sensing his cease of movement, banged into the potion teacher's backside.
"What is it, Professor?" asked Ashton in a shaky voice. "Is it You-Know- Who?"
"No," he said softly, then, voice full of authority, he commanded for the two find Professor McGonagall. Still oscillating with fear, the girls ran to find her.
As the girls ran off, a small smile escaped his lips. "Maybe we are saved after all."
******
"What's this about again?" asked Harry to Draco as they stood stiffly in a military like formation.
"We're getting help from the Veelas. How many times to I have to bloody tell you, Potter?"
"Once more, I guess."
As the boats neared and made their entrance out of the curtain of fog, a collective gasp echoed over the crowd of students. The Veelas stood in their boats with all majesty and power surrounding them. The tip of the boats slit through the water like a knife, closing in on the shoreline. The first and grandest of them all docked and a man and woman stepped out. Both beautiful, the man looked slightly feminine, partially because of the silver river than ran from his head to the middle of his back. Piercing eyes surveyed the crowd, while a perfectly pointed nose sensed the air. He stood with a royal aura about him, almost demanding attention. Even more beautiful, was the lady beside him. Like her escort, her hair rippled down her back, though hers to her hips. The color of her hair seemed to be so pure, it was as if a pauper were to snip one of her pearly silver locks, his worth could escalate to a prince by the selling of one strand. The molten gray in her eyes looked upon them with kindness, but also a touch of sadness. Her winter white gown draped around her, accenting the smooth transition of shoulders, to breast, to stomach, then hip. The dress's gathered neckline rested on the tips of her shoulders, and came to settle in the high curves of her breasts. The milky skin which protruded forth silently spoke of forbidden promises of the soul trapped in the confines of the body.
"Minerva," rang the man's voice as the aged Transfiguration teacher came before them and bowed.
Confused, Harry looked to Draco, Hermione on Draco's other side, and then to Ron, who had just recently joined the group. Ron looked just as puzzled.
"Why is she bowing?" whispered Ron to Harry, who shrugged.
"Don't you two know anything?" whispered Draco quickly, "That is Mithle and Cordelia ze Bellah."
"And they would be..." whispered Harry.
"Basically, the rulers of the Veelas. They are the people my mum's clan protects."
Harry nodded quickly and looked back to McGonagall and the two Veelas. Ron, however, looked at Draco with an odd look on his face, wondering what cause this sudden outburst of conversation with Harry and him. And why was Harry acting like this was natural? Shaking these thoughts from his head, the Weasley boy looked back on the scene before him.
Mithle removed a scabbard belt from his waist, which held a heavy, ornate sword. The sword was covered with designs of leaves and water lilies. It was hard for many to imagine that such a beautiful craft could do terrible deeds. McGonagall rose to her feet and accepted the sword with great reverence. Drawing the sword, she held the white blade in her hands. Then swiftly and without shedding a tear, the wizened professor administered a single slit to her left wrist. The rust color profaned the swords beauty, but its bloodlust had not yet been fulfilled. Mithle took the sword and administered a cut to his palm. Cordelia turned her perfect face towards him, and without speaking, kissed his lips as he grabbed McGonagall's bloody wrist in his own bloodied palm. The sword was dropped to the ground to be picked up by Isadora, who wiped it.
"Oh my God," said Draco under his breath, but not soft enough. Hermione turned her head and looked at him.
"What is going on?" she asked, a worried expression on her face.
"Dominance."
"What?"
"McGonagall is giving them dominance."
"Over who?"
"Over her."
Hermione's eyes grew wide.
"They now have an eternal bond, her, Mithle, and Cordelia. She will be of her own free will, but ultimately, she owes them a life debt. They are sacrificing the lives of their people for ours."
"That is the price she has to pay? I overheard Isadora and McGonagall talking about that. I thought that they were going to transfigure a student."
"They probably still will. This is a large deed they are fulfilling. In addition to McGonagall's life debt, they will probably take two students, in hopes they will reproduce and produce full blooded Veelas. Of course, the offspring won't be true blooded Veelas, but no one would be able to tell. Now, be quiet, I'll finish talking to you about it after this."
*******
"I'm so confused about all this," said Hermione after the "ceremony." She and Draco had retreated to a tent to talk of the matter.
"Well what are you confused about?" answered Draco as changed his grass stained shirt for a clean one. "Bloody, Potter was right."
On the comment of Harry, she looked at him strangely, but ignored it. "If a Veela can't love or finds it hard to do so, then why would they change them into Veelas before they reproduce?"
"That's easy. The offspring would be mortal. As for if they would love, becoming a Veela doesn't involve a memory wipe. You still would feel the emotions that you felt as a mortal, but love is one that will be more difficult. If you go into the transformation loving someone, you are going to come out of it still loving, but expressing it will be different."
"What about passion?"
"Lust?" said Draco, raising an eyebrow.
Blushing a little, she nodded.
"That emotion is explosive, one of the reasons why Veelas have such a strong-hold over humans. It is blatant sex-appeal. Like love, somewhat hard to express, but," he said, inching a little closer to her, "it can be done."
She swallowed, looking at his piercing eyes that seemed to look straight into her. Eyes like his mother's. Like a Veela's eyes. The icy stare of the half blood ran shivers down her back, goose bumps pricking on her arms.
"Oh," she said, freeing herself from his stare, "That's good to know, I guess. So who do you think they will take?"
"Who knows?" he said, shrugging off the question. "It depends on whether they will take a pair or not. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. For all I know, they could take you."
Hermione laughed at his statement.
"What? You would make a nice Veela."
"Oh I can see that. Hermione the Veela, that would be a humorous picture," she said, throwing herself on the grassy floor of the tent.
"You don't want to be one?"
"Veelas never fascinated me. All other things did, but Veelas were not a favorite thing of mine to read about. It seems like it would be a nice life for a while, men always fawning over you. But after a while, wouldn't it become dull? Also the fact that you have a difficult time loving, unless you enter into a transformation loving, seems a bit rough. Wouldn't you become depressed?"
Draco sighed and lay down beside her, putting his hands behind his head. "We are."
She looked over at him. "What?"
"Most of us are a little if not very depressed."
She sat up and looked down on him. As gently as she could, she asked, "Are you?"
He gave her a small smile. "Sometimes I wonder if I am. I hang around two oafish blokes whose stupidity makes even the world's least educated child look intelligent. That's a confidence booster in itself. Most of my life is lived in secret and loneliness."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Draco sat up, his eyes level to hers. "Don't be," he said, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes.
"Anything I can do?" she asked, her wide, innocent eyes watching his every move.
He touched her hand, and with her silent permission, brought it to hold against his pale cheek. After holding there for a little, Hermione found herself stroking his soft skin freely. His eyes closed as her hand strayed to run her fingers through his mess of blonde hair.
"I'm going to miss you, you know," he said, "Your servitude ends in two days."
"Yeah," she said, the realization sinking in. Her hand still stroked his face and hair, his head moving in the rhythm of her motions. Suddenly, he pulled away, exhaled, and rose to his feet, then stalked away and out of the tent.
Hermione, lost as to what had happened, fell back down in the grass, wondering what had come over him. Putting these thoughts away, she got back up, and laid in one of the two cots of the tent, and sleep took her.
*******
Draco entered the tent a half an hour later and looked upon Hermione's sleeping form. He sighed and began to undress to turn in for the night. Earlier in the tent, it had just been too much to handle. His emotions were going out of control. To calm himself, Draco had gone to see his mother. Draco pulled off his socks as he thought of the strange conversation they had had...
"Your friend is sweet, Draco," Narcissa had purred, "Are her parents wizards?"
"No, she is a muggle-born."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Really, that's interesting. If she was half, I would say she is the spitting image of Victoria Newchurch."
Draco had known the name. Newchurch was an old wizarding family. Victoria had renounced magic after watching her uncle, a Death Eater, use magic to torture Aurors. Being that she was the only heir to the name and wealth, the estate was claimed by the Ministry of Magic. Most people do not know what became of her. But most likely, she was dead.
"No, mother. Hermione's parents are both dentists."
Draco stripped off his shirt and looked back down on Hermione. Pushing his thoughts away, he crawled into the cot next to her and fell asleep.
*******
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket; never let it fade away. Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket; save it for a rainy day.
******
Narcissa unlinked her arm from Hermione and began to walk over the battlefield. Hermione, still unsure of Narcissa's motive for bringing her away from the two boys, posed a question. "So, Narcissa, you are a Dejilac?"
Narcissa, a little surprised by the question, said, "Yes, but how did you know that?"
"Oh, Draco mentioned it to me. I had thought that all of the Veelas were supporting Voldemort, but he told me differently. He said it was only the Yelsa."
"And he is correct in that. Now I have a question to ask of you, Hermione. How did you and my Draco become acquainted? I don't recognize the name Granger, so I assume that you are not a pure blood. Also, you do not appear to be a Slytherin, seeing that the dominating color in your ensemble is red."
"Oh!" said Hermione, "It was actually by a bet. We bet on the outcome of a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. We promised a month of servitude. I lost and became Draco's servant, or slave, in a way, since I wasn't paid. The bet ended last Thursday, but a friendship came out of it."
Narcissa nodded, "Now you say you were his slave. In what way?"
Hermione, seeing where the tall Veela was going with this question, widened her eyes and said rather quickly, "Oh no! Not in that way! Professor McGonagall even gave me a ring to protect against it."
Narcissa nodded approvingly when Hermione's ring was thrust in front of her. She then said, "Minerva has done well. I wouldn't put it past Draco to take advantage of you."
"If you don't mind me asking, do you not trust him?"
Narcissa looked sharply at her and said, "No, I trust him, but I also know his history. His father had many mistresses that were constantly in the manor. During Christmas holidays in his fifth year, he was given the gift of a young lady for the night for his birthday. Draco, somewhat afraid, refused the gift. Lucius wasn't too happy about that. From then on, Draco has had a thirst to prove himself."
Hermione nodded and vowed to remember this. Even thought the tall Veela had spoken of the dark past of her husband nonchalantly, she knew that this matter must have been something that upset Narcissa in the past.
"Come now," said Narcissa, "Show me about this place. I will also need to speak with Minerva. Is she around?"
"Oh yes," said Hermione. She then led Narcissa off to find the old Transfiguration professor.
*******
Two first years were skipping rocks in the water.
"Hey, Lauren!" one shouted, "Watch this!"
Her rock skipped three times.
"Wow! Nice job, Ashton!"
Lauren looked across the water. "Ashton," she said, pointing at the waters, "What's that?"
"I don't know," said Lauren, "You don't think we are under attack again?"
"I don't know! I hope not! Let's get Professor Snape!"
The two girls shrieked, threw down the remainder of their rocks, and ran to get the professor.
******
Professor Snape looked up at the ashen clouds and frowned. "Another dismal day," he thought, "in this endless valley of ashes and soot." Students walked about talking, a few of the younger ones on the grass attempting to turn a pool into rum. "Fools. Turning water into rum has Spanish in the incantation. They are still using the 'turn this water into rum.'"
Snape ran a pale hand through his raven hair and sat on the grass. "It shouldn't be this way. We should be teaching them how to kill. Sword fighting will only land us in Voldemort's hands."
"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!" yelled the voices of two prepubescent girls, breaking his meditation. Scowling, he rose to meet them, ready to disciple. Finding that they were Slytherins, his harshness melted.
"Miss Bourgeois, Miss Brit, what is the matter?" he said stiffly.
Lauren stepped forward, "Professor, there is something in the water, and we don't know what it is!"
Snape sighed. "It was probably a fish."
"No!" said Ashton, "It was big, but the fog was thick out so we couldn't see what it was."
"Come along. I'll get to the bottom of this. It was probably just a large fish," said Snape as he strode to the lake's water, the two girls in tow. Suddenly, he stopped. The two following first years, not sensing his cease of movement, banged into the potion teacher's backside.
"What is it, Professor?" asked Ashton in a shaky voice. "Is it You-Know- Who?"
"No," he said softly, then, voice full of authority, he commanded for the two find Professor McGonagall. Still oscillating with fear, the girls ran to find her.
As the girls ran off, a small smile escaped his lips. "Maybe we are saved after all."
******
"What's this about again?" asked Harry to Draco as they stood stiffly in a military like formation.
"We're getting help from the Veelas. How many times to I have to bloody tell you, Potter?"
"Once more, I guess."
As the boats neared and made their entrance out of the curtain of fog, a collective gasp echoed over the crowd of students. The Veelas stood in their boats with all majesty and power surrounding them. The tip of the boats slit through the water like a knife, closing in on the shoreline. The first and grandest of them all docked and a man and woman stepped out. Both beautiful, the man looked slightly feminine, partially because of the silver river than ran from his head to the middle of his back. Piercing eyes surveyed the crowd, while a perfectly pointed nose sensed the air. He stood with a royal aura about him, almost demanding attention. Even more beautiful, was the lady beside him. Like her escort, her hair rippled down her back, though hers to her hips. The color of her hair seemed to be so pure, it was as if a pauper were to snip one of her pearly silver locks, his worth could escalate to a prince by the selling of one strand. The molten gray in her eyes looked upon them with kindness, but also a touch of sadness. Her winter white gown draped around her, accenting the smooth transition of shoulders, to breast, to stomach, then hip. The dress's gathered neckline rested on the tips of her shoulders, and came to settle in the high curves of her breasts. The milky skin which protruded forth silently spoke of forbidden promises of the soul trapped in the confines of the body.
"Minerva," rang the man's voice as the aged Transfiguration teacher came before them and bowed.
Confused, Harry looked to Draco, Hermione on Draco's other side, and then to Ron, who had just recently joined the group. Ron looked just as puzzled.
"Why is she bowing?" whispered Ron to Harry, who shrugged.
"Don't you two know anything?" whispered Draco quickly, "That is Mithle and Cordelia ze Bellah."
"And they would be..." whispered Harry.
"Basically, the rulers of the Veelas. They are the people my mum's clan protects."
Harry nodded quickly and looked back to McGonagall and the two Veelas. Ron, however, looked at Draco with an odd look on his face, wondering what cause this sudden outburst of conversation with Harry and him. And why was Harry acting like this was natural? Shaking these thoughts from his head, the Weasley boy looked back on the scene before him.
Mithle removed a scabbard belt from his waist, which held a heavy, ornate sword. The sword was covered with designs of leaves and water lilies. It was hard for many to imagine that such a beautiful craft could do terrible deeds. McGonagall rose to her feet and accepted the sword with great reverence. Drawing the sword, she held the white blade in her hands. Then swiftly and without shedding a tear, the wizened professor administered a single slit to her left wrist. The rust color profaned the swords beauty, but its bloodlust had not yet been fulfilled. Mithle took the sword and administered a cut to his palm. Cordelia turned her perfect face towards him, and without speaking, kissed his lips as he grabbed McGonagall's bloody wrist in his own bloodied palm. The sword was dropped to the ground to be picked up by Isadora, who wiped it.
"Oh my God," said Draco under his breath, but not soft enough. Hermione turned her head and looked at him.
"What is going on?" she asked, a worried expression on her face.
"Dominance."
"What?"
"McGonagall is giving them dominance."
"Over who?"
"Over her."
Hermione's eyes grew wide.
"They now have an eternal bond, her, Mithle, and Cordelia. She will be of her own free will, but ultimately, she owes them a life debt. They are sacrificing the lives of their people for ours."
"That is the price she has to pay? I overheard Isadora and McGonagall talking about that. I thought that they were going to transfigure a student."
"They probably still will. This is a large deed they are fulfilling. In addition to McGonagall's life debt, they will probably take two students, in hopes they will reproduce and produce full blooded Veelas. Of course, the offspring won't be true blooded Veelas, but no one would be able to tell. Now, be quiet, I'll finish talking to you about it after this."
*******
"I'm so confused about all this," said Hermione after the "ceremony." She and Draco had retreated to a tent to talk of the matter.
"Well what are you confused about?" answered Draco as changed his grass stained shirt for a clean one. "Bloody, Potter was right."
On the comment of Harry, she looked at him strangely, but ignored it. "If a Veela can't love or finds it hard to do so, then why would they change them into Veelas before they reproduce?"
"That's easy. The offspring would be mortal. As for if they would love, becoming a Veela doesn't involve a memory wipe. You still would feel the emotions that you felt as a mortal, but love is one that will be more difficult. If you go into the transformation loving someone, you are going to come out of it still loving, but expressing it will be different."
"What about passion?"
"Lust?" said Draco, raising an eyebrow.
Blushing a little, she nodded.
"That emotion is explosive, one of the reasons why Veelas have such a strong-hold over humans. It is blatant sex-appeal. Like love, somewhat hard to express, but," he said, inching a little closer to her, "it can be done."
She swallowed, looking at his piercing eyes that seemed to look straight into her. Eyes like his mother's. Like a Veela's eyes. The icy stare of the half blood ran shivers down her back, goose bumps pricking on her arms.
"Oh," she said, freeing herself from his stare, "That's good to know, I guess. So who do you think they will take?"
"Who knows?" he said, shrugging off the question. "It depends on whether they will take a pair or not. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. For all I know, they could take you."
Hermione laughed at his statement.
"What? You would make a nice Veela."
"Oh I can see that. Hermione the Veela, that would be a humorous picture," she said, throwing herself on the grassy floor of the tent.
"You don't want to be one?"
"Veelas never fascinated me. All other things did, but Veelas were not a favorite thing of mine to read about. It seems like it would be a nice life for a while, men always fawning over you. But after a while, wouldn't it become dull? Also the fact that you have a difficult time loving, unless you enter into a transformation loving, seems a bit rough. Wouldn't you become depressed?"
Draco sighed and lay down beside her, putting his hands behind his head. "We are."
She looked over at him. "What?"
"Most of us are a little if not very depressed."
She sat up and looked down on him. As gently as she could, she asked, "Are you?"
He gave her a small smile. "Sometimes I wonder if I am. I hang around two oafish blokes whose stupidity makes even the world's least educated child look intelligent. That's a confidence booster in itself. Most of my life is lived in secret and loneliness."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Draco sat up, his eyes level to hers. "Don't be," he said, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes.
"Anything I can do?" she asked, her wide, innocent eyes watching his every move.
He touched her hand, and with her silent permission, brought it to hold against his pale cheek. After holding there for a little, Hermione found herself stroking his soft skin freely. His eyes closed as her hand strayed to run her fingers through his mess of blonde hair.
"I'm going to miss you, you know," he said, "Your servitude ends in two days."
"Yeah," she said, the realization sinking in. Her hand still stroked his face and hair, his head moving in the rhythm of her motions. Suddenly, he pulled away, exhaled, and rose to his feet, then stalked away and out of the tent.
Hermione, lost as to what had happened, fell back down in the grass, wondering what had come over him. Putting these thoughts away, she got back up, and laid in one of the two cots of the tent, and sleep took her.
*******
Draco entered the tent a half an hour later and looked upon Hermione's sleeping form. He sighed and began to undress to turn in for the night. Earlier in the tent, it had just been too much to handle. His emotions were going out of control. To calm himself, Draco had gone to see his mother. Draco pulled off his socks as he thought of the strange conversation they had had...
"Your friend is sweet, Draco," Narcissa had purred, "Are her parents wizards?"
"No, she is a muggle-born."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Really, that's interesting. If she was half, I would say she is the spitting image of Victoria Newchurch."
Draco had known the name. Newchurch was an old wizarding family. Victoria had renounced magic after watching her uncle, a Death Eater, use magic to torture Aurors. Being that she was the only heir to the name and wealth, the estate was claimed by the Ministry of Magic. Most people do not know what became of her. But most likely, she was dead.
"No, mother. Hermione's parents are both dentists."
Draco stripped off his shirt and looked back down on Hermione. Pushing his thoughts away, he crawled into the cot next to her and fell asleep.