A/N: Enjoy!
Two days later
Hermione's eyes found the clock. It was almost four in the morning, but she didn't feel at all sleepy. Exhaustion plagued her body, but whenever she shut her eyes, she felt a longing for something she couldn't really place. It unnerved her and kept her awake, even though all her attempts to find a "cure" had failed. It wasn't a spell, it wasn't a potion, it wasn't anything she could test herself for. Sleeping potions from St Mungo's didn't work, sleeping pills from her muggle general practitioner were equally useless. According to the doctors of both worlds, there was nothing physically nor mentally wrong with her.
Except that she couldn't sleep. Hermione got out of her bed, pushed open the window and let the cool air enter the room. The night was unusually chilly. The streetlights outside flickered. "Where are you?" she whispered to herself. "What are you?" She had read about all kinds of magical creatures, when she had been at Hogwarts. There were beasts that lured you into their lair by magic that even Newt Scamander couldn't understand. They were dangerous enough; if one was let loose in London, the Ministry would have informed all the wizards in the area, wouldn't they? Hermione doubted it. She wanted to believe they would, but politics was another world altogether.
The wind blowing in brought her out of her stupor. She realized how stupid it was to open it in the first place. This call, this magic was almost irresistible. Unable to sleep and plagued by a whispering voice whose words she couldn't make out, Hermione got dressed and hurried to the Leaky Cauldron.
An hour later she was at Grimmauld's place with a sleepy couple, who she had woken up. Hermione felt guilty as soon as Harry had opened the door, and tried to leave, but the man was adamant about hearing her out.
"You're too sensible for this kind of thing," he yawned, letting her in. "So you might as well just, you know, get over with it." He told her to help herself to whatever she wanted to drink and went to inform Ginny of their late (or early) visitor. Even though he insisted that Ginny doesn't have to get up, the woman wanted to know what had driven her good friend into such a state. Hermione simply wouldn't be there, if it wasn't important.
"I'm so sorry that I woke you up," apologized the visiting witch. "I don't know what came over me that I thought this would be a good idea… But I'm hearing voices and I can't figure it out. Well, a voice." Harry and Ginny exchanged worried glances immediately. Hermione refused to look at them. "It's calling out to me."
"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign," echoed Harry the words she had told him in their first year of Hogwarts. Hermione nodded. "But sometimes you have to follow them to find out what they are."
"I hate to be the one to say this," yawned Ginny, "but someone has to: are you sure it's not just in your head?"
"I'm sure." Hermione was glad that Ginny had had the question. Because of all their adventures, it was all the more important that someone imagined the most ordinary reasons. Not everything was a sign of another year full of challenges, of hard work and fighting the bad guys. "But I can't sleep. Not even with potions." She sighed a tired sigh.
"Well, then, the answer is obvious. You have to go and check it out. The real question is, do you want either of us to come with you?" Harry didn't know what kind of support to offer her friend, but in his experience, ignoring voices didn't make them go away. "Unless you haven't tried occlumency to block off whoever is messing with your mind."
"I have," confirmed Hermione. "My mind is telling me to take someone with me, if I… If I follow this sound. But my heart…"
"Hermione, how does the voice sound?" Ginny felt like they were rushing into things too fast and ignoring the important questions. "Like… what does it say? Anything that you haven't told us about this voice you hear?"
"It's like a siren's call," she whispered. Part of her wanted to keep it all to herself. It almost hurt to speak about it, as if the creature behind the call didn't want her to talk about it. "Sweet, mesmerizing… I can't make out the words, really, but I feel this strong pull to go after it."
"Well," Ginny clapped her hands together. "You did the smart thing by telling us. Harry's probably right though. You can either ignore it and hope it eventually goes away, or… go after it. Either way, it's your choice." She looked at her friend with a kind smile. "Voldemort is gone, so the chances of it being dangerous are well, smaller than, say, ten years ago."
Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from listing all the possible dangerous creatures she could think of that might have these magical attributes. Instead, she smiled weakly and nodded. The brightest witch of her age was a Gryffindor. She would have to be brave to face her siren. In that moment, when she stood up and gave a meaningful nod to the married couple, she felt just brave enough.
Draco Malfoy was restless. Two sleepless nights should have left him exhausted, but he was awake and more alert than in a very long time. The Ministry had finalized his pardon, even though they hadn't really wanted to. Neither did Draco. He would have been happy to be locked away in Azkaban, away from the maddening world. This veela thing had never been part of his plans. Hermione Granger trying to save him was equally surprising. It had almost given him hope.
Flying on his broom in the night sky felt good. His thoughts kept going back to the day, when he left the witch's apartment. That's when the ringing in his ears started. The whispers came back and unlike the woman, he knew what they were saying. The voice spoke promises and gave threats, asked nicely and on occasion, Draco could feel the beast's attempts to take over his body. The veela wanted her.
"We are not the same," he gritted through his teeth, taking the broom higher. He had read everything he could find on the topic of veelas and veela blood. Veela were beautiful and loyal creatures. If a person was born into it, everything was fine. It was only natural that the offspring of a veela was beautiful and their magic was strong. The veela in them developed just as the human did. Together.
Not a single Malfoy in their family had married a veela, as far as Malfoy knew. He had spoken with the portrait of his great great grandmother, who his mother blamed for the blood. She was not a veela. At the very least, she didn't look like one and she claimed to be a 100% true pure-blood, who took serious offense to the mere suggestion that she wasn't. But the blood had to come from somewhere.
He laughed, flying higher. That was the only thing he had missed, when in Azkaban. "We are not the same," he repeated to himself. He and his veela had grown separately and somehow, they had chosen the same woman. Some would consider it lucky. Draco didn't. He knew how the veela felt about her, he heard its' thoughts. The things it wanted to do to her scared even him.
All Draco wanted was for Hermione to get on with her life and for her to get whatever she wanted. And he'd heard about it a lot. Hermione wanted things to calm down. Hermione wanted peace and quiet and her books. Hermione did not want any part of this. She would save him, if she knew, of course. She was kind and gracious and gentle. She was everything that he was not.
"Draco!" He heard a familiar voice call out to him. It almost made him fall off the broom. A fall from that high would have caused him serious injury. He looked down and his breath hitched, as he gripped his broom tighter. Up or down? He couldn't decide.
Fleur Weasley, née Delacour stood on the ground, wrapped in elegant navy blue robes, hands crossed over her chest. She had a stern look on her face. When the man landed in front of her, she added "I should 'ave known it was you."
"You're part-veela," she continued, when he didn't acknowledge her words. "You should 'ave sent me an owl. I could help you. How many parts are you?"
"I don't need your help," pushed Draco through his teeth. He was surprised to find Fleur there. They had hardly talked at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. She had approached him out of curiosity, impressed by the fact that he wasn't fawning over her mesmerizing looks like any other guy there.
"Your song is driving us all nuts," she informed him, almost amused. "We know you have found her. Or him. Love knows no bounds."
Draco snapped: "What song?" Fleur smirked.
"You're calling out to her."
"I'm not!" he hissed.
"Draco, listen to me. You can ignore it all you want, but if you don't go to her, she will come to you." exclaimed the witch calmly. "Now, tell me, before I lose my patience. How many parts are you?"
"Three quarters," he answered. He jumped on the broom and floated in front of her. He felt better not touching the ground.
Fleur frowned: "More zan half? But that's… hard to believe." She couldn't think of anyone else like that from the top of her head. It was still easier to believe than the fact she never figured it out at Hogwarts. She had her suspicions although she had never voiced it.
Draco shrugged. "Don't know where I got it. But I'm not ruining her life along with mine. I've read enough."
"Read!" scoffed the girl. "You clearly 'aven't learned anyzing from zem! Veela are a family, we don't need books, we 'ave each other. Why is your parent not helping you?"
"My parent?" Draco was confused. "I didn't know I had veela blood in me until a short while ago." Fleur studied him closely. To her, he looked like a young boy rather than a man. Her instincts told her that he wasn't lying, which could only mean that he had no one to guide him, no one to tell him the secrets of their kind.
"Come on, walk wiz me." She turned around and walked the way she had come from. Fleur had found Draco by his sounds with all the intention of knocking some sense into him, although now, she almost regretted coming. These secrets were supposed to be revealed over a course of a lifetime, the human and veela were supposed to grow together. And based on what Draco had told her, the veela in him had either come to existence only now or been there all along, hiding.
"Draco, you and veela are the same. Your mate is a good match to you and your veela," she tried to explain. "And you are a good match to her."
"No." Draco felt defeated. There was no way he could explain it. "I would rather die than force her to be with me."
"Is she that repulsive to you?" wondered the blonde woman. It had happened, but usually it sorted itself out once the partners got to know each other. "I assure you, zat will change with time." She blinked, when she noticed Draco was shaking his head no. "Who is she?"
Draco gave her a pointed look, as if he expected her to know already.
"Well?" She really had no idea. The man sighed before uttering the name in despair.
"Granger."
