A.N. An unnamed guest suggested that this fic is showcasing how Hermione and Draco shouldn't be together. It surprised me that it took you guys this long to realize this since the disclaimer was in the first chapter.

I realize that I made an error last chapter. The story seemed to skip a year when, in reality, all of the previous chapter happened in the year 2004. And so is this chapter.

I want to keep apologizing for my erratic posting schedule. I promised myself that I would post once a week, but (beautiful, exciting, and frustrating) life keeps happening. Alas, there are only 24 hours in a day, and I only have one flawed body. Also, I've since graduated from my dream school, which I mentioned in earlier chapters. So yeah, lots of life changes while writing this fic.

Ch. 15

Why did Hermione felt disappointed that Malfoy was not behind her sudden friendship with Zabini? She should have known. Of course, he wouldn't send one of his friends to help her with her goal. He doesn't love you. Hermione repeated that mantra. And why would Malfoy love her? They barely know each other, they have practically nothing in common. Why can't her veela understand that?

"How many full-fledged veela have you met? Zabini asked, which diverted her attention to the man who sat across her on top of a plush antique couch.

Hermione didn't know what the question has to do with anything. Still, she readily admitted that she never met a full-fledged veela before. Fleur consulted her previously, but she was only part-veela. She saw a whole bunch of them during the world cup before their fourth year, but she never actually met a full-fledged veela before.

"Now, you know one," Zabini said. "My Nonna is a veela of the French variety though her family is from Italy. She already knows that you're also a veela and—"

"You told her?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Zabini said. "What did you think we were talking about in Italian as you stood awkwardly in the corner?"

Hermione pursed her lips. She did not appreciate that people she barely knew talking about something so personal right in front of her. That alone warrant rudeness in her books, but to do it in a language she didn't even understand made it even more annoying, even malicious. But they weren't, were they?

Hermione's eyes were drawn to the door leading to the dining room. She expected shock and curiosity from anyone who learned that she was a veela. Zabini's grandparents' nonchalance was a refreshing change of pace. Then again, his nonna was a veela.

"I would never have guessed that you're related to veelas," Hermione said after a pregnant pause.

Zabini smirked. She realized that she was giving him the same curious expression she received when her friends learned she was a veela.

"Hi, I'm Blaise Zabini. My grandmother is full-pledged veela while my grandfather is a wizard making me a part-veela. Technically, I'm a half-blood."

Hermione was surprised. She heard from Harry how Zabini snottily rejected Ginny because she was a "blood traitor" way back in their sixth year. She just automatically assumed that meant that he was a pureblood like most of the snotty Slytherin crew. Not that she would say that out loud in front of his face.

"Most people assume that I am a pureblood," Zabini said, not needing to cast legimens in her direction her. "I don't correct them because it's easier to let people believe that I'm a pureblood. It's much easier to explain than telling people I spent my childhood surrounded by veelas.

"Oh, by the way," Zabini said. "Just so you know, I personally know dozens of full-fledged veelas. I grew up with a lot of them, in fact. So, I grew up in this community, it's my family."

Hermione blinked in response. She did not know what to make of this strange new development. She had so many questions, but the first one that popped into her mind was…

"Veelas have a community?" Hermione asked, feeling dumb while doing so. So much for the brightest witch of her time…

"Of course," Zabini said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Veelas are magical creatures like centaurs and goblins. Why shouldn't they have a community of their own? Granted, we don't really advertise our existence, but it exists.

"Most people only see veelas as Veelas alluring magical creatures who have a mate, and that's all that they are," Zabini said. "What they don't know is that Veelas have their own culture, customs, tradition, and magic. Do you honestly believe that ungodly beauty just sprouts from French Veelas out of nowhere? Or that Greek Veelas were born with the ability to sing an opera? No, that came with veela upbringing."

For the second time, Hermione blushed in embarrassment. She kind of did believe that she just lacked those natural charms veelas have, but maybe that was not the case. A small part of her…okay, a big part of her, worried that there must be something wrong with her veela heritage because she was neither gorgeous nor magically talented at song and dance. Yet, Hermione forgot the first lesson every geneticist learn, genes are not your destiny. Genetics undoubtedly affects a lot of things in life, but it was not everything.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I'm a veela, yet I know nothing about everything you just said."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Zabini said. "You may be the brightest witch of our age, but how could you know something nobody told you about?"

Zabini sat next to her, and gingerly grabbed her hands. The suspicion Hermione felt earlier disappeared, replaced with a vague sense of embarrassment and comradery that was never there before.

"I should be the one apologizing to you," Zabini said. "I should have recognized that you were a veela while we were at school. I should have invited you to meet my family, the veela side of my family, during summer vacation so you could learn your heritage."

Hermione shook her head. Would she have appreciated learning more about her veela heritage back while there were in school? Yes, definitely. Undoubtedly. She could have grown up in that community. Perhaps she would have been better off. Or maybe she would end up living among veelas in Italy during the war, which left Harry and Ron fending for themselves.

"I appreciate your apology," Hermione said. "Even though you didn't need to. House rivalries back at Hogwarts were so intense, the only time we had to socialize was during Slug Club anyway."

"True," Zabini said. "Even though old Slughorn intended the club to be social, old school rivalries don't just disappear over a bottle of good firewhisky."

She and Zabini grinned at the memory of their old Potions professor trying to create a network of elite Hogwarts students. Harry avoided the parties as much as he can, but he was the famous Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't need to network like other students, such as herself, for a potential job in the future.

Now that they were in their twenties and their peers were either working or looking for work, Hermione knew that she could rely on Professor Slughorn's network to help her.

"We could have bumped into each other in the quote 'real world'," Zabini said. "I could have bumped into you at St. Mungo's, but you were too busy with your Healer Training that's going to waste."

"Hey," Hermione chastised with a grin on her face. "My Healer training is not going to waste! I'm just repurposing it for research instead."

"In a muggle University?" Blaise asked.

Hermione explained to him her grand plan of integrating muggle genomics and wizarding medicine.

"That is a bit interesting," Zabini said. His eyes looked thoughtful.

"You know," Zabini started. "It wouldn't surprise me if somebody in America or even the continent is working on the same thing as you."

"I've thought about that," Hermione said. And she did. The Wizarding World may be small, but it was not so little that another wizard would be working on magical genomics like her. She thought that she would encounter more people with similar interests as she pursued her goal. That was not the case. Going to a muggle university as a witch was a very isolating experience.

"Let me go through my contacts to see what I could find for you," Zabini said.

"You would do that for me?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Zabini said. "You're family now."

Hermione did not know how to respond to that. It was still weird to her that Zabini was openly calling her family. Was it because she was part veela? She really didn't know anything about veelas, did she? Hermione could not remember the last time books failed her.

Zabini's nonna entered the room, asking them what they were doing, letting good food go cold.

April 1, 2004

St. Mungo's was useless. There was only one Healer that specializes in "semi-human, semi-magical humanoids." The waiting list for non-emergencies was yearlong. His mother was appalled that Draco had to wait over a month just to get one simple question answered. What's the point of a massive donation to the hospital if he couldn't get an appointment the next day?

All that waiting was wasted when all the bone-headed healers could offer was his opinion of Granger. To nobody's surprise, the old Professor really liked the bookworm, Granger. The only Professor who was smart enough to not fawn all over Granger's bookworm ways was Draco's own godfather, Professor Severus Snape. May he rest in peace.

Draco passed by several sickly patients and hospital staff, including Nott and Goldstein. God, he never thought that he would hate that buffoon. Draco and Goldstein were friendly enough during their Hogwarts years, that was until Goldstein joined the stupid Dumbledore's Army. Their somewhat familiar relationship did not go well after that. And after their last encounter, the possibility of friendship was thrown out the window for the foreseeable future. Nonetheless, Draco made the mature decision to ask Goldstein to talk in private.

"I'm not going to tell you where she is," Goldstein said right away, already prepared for another verbal spar.

"You should," Draco said.

"Why?" Goldstein said, avoiding his eyes. No doubt to prevent Draco from going through his memories with legilimens. Not that Draco was well versed with the spell in the first place despite his mastery of Occlumency at a young age.

"Because you know it was the right thing to do," Draco said. "You and Granger may be under the delusion that you two would ride off into the sunset, but you two are also smart enough to know that it's an exercise in foolishness. I know that you and Hermione have a very… close relationship. And I'm sure that your companionship is very much appreciated. Still, we all know that your relationship with her has an expiration date."

Goldstein clenched his jaw ever so briefly that Draco would have missed it if he wasn't paying attention. Good.

"The clock is ticking," Draco said. He removed imaginary creases from his robes as he prepared himself to leave. "In a couple of years, Granger would turn thirty, and her veela heritage would call out for me. It would be best if she stopped her foolishness sooner rather than later."

Now that he said his peace, Draco walked away from the quiet healer.

"She wouldn't run to your arms," Goldstein called out.

Draco stopped walking without turning around. He stood there and quietly seethed as Goldstein had the last word.

"I know that my time with Hermione is short," Goldstein said. "And I have no problem with that. We're young. Many relationships end when you're young. That's the whole point of it, to learn a lot about what we want in a relationship. And Hermione already knew that she didn't want you."

Draco resisted the urge to hex the healer. Let the man have the last word for now. Draco was going to make sure that Goldstein and Granger's farce of a relationship ends with Granger in Draco's arms.

April 2, 2004

Whatever gave professors the bright idea to stuff all projects and exams the week after Easter Holiday? Or every holiday, for that matter? Seriously, why did they do that? They always gave this stupid excuse that it would provide students with more time to study for the test or work on their projects and made themselves sound so considerate. In reality, the extra time to study for midterms meant more time to worry about said midterms instead of spending time with family or in Hermione's case, her passion project.

Hermione tried. She swore she tried to budget her time equally between schoolwork, socializing with friends and family, as well as her passion project. Still, it all became muddled when one of her professors planned an optional review session. So, of course, Hermione had to come to the review session in the middle of her Easter hols when she should be spending long-delayed quality time with her parents. Of course, her little trip to Paris with Blaise—yes, they were on a first-name basis now—didn't help with the matters.

"Hermione, you're overthinking again," Harry said.

He pushed a pint of firewhiskey to her hands. An encouraging smile on his face, he sat down next to her at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron.

"I can't help it," Hermione said. "I can't just forget the midterms because the professors would often repeat half of the questions to the finals."

"Good," Harry chirped. "That means that you already studied for half of your finals. Less work for you."

"That logic only applies if I was right the first time around," Hermione complained.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Same old Hermione," Harry said, which earned him a glare.

"You know, there's no use worrying about it right now," Harry said. "The test was taken. The project was submitted. The time already passed and you can't take it back. Worrying about those things only give you premature wrinkles and undue stress."

"Easy for you to say," Hermione said. "It's been years since you took a test."

"True," Harry said. "But now I have investigations to head as well as trials to prepare for."

Hermione conceded defeat.

"I'm not saying that school isn't hard," Harry said. "I don't have to worry about homework anymore, and I can just forget about the day as soon as I go home."

"I guess bringing homework wouldn't mix well with wedding planning," Hermione said as she took a sip of her pint.

"Or with small children," Harry said. "and a fiancée going through morning sickness."

Hermione paused as Harry gave her a cheeky smile.

"Is Ginny pre-" Hermione said.

Harry shushed her.

"We're trying to keep it a secret," Harry said. "God knows Molly would make us marry each other tomorrow if she found out."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione stage-whispered. "I'm so happy for you two. But wouldn't everybody found out at the wedding? How far along is she?"

"It's very early," Harry replied. "We just found out last week. Since the wedding is in a couple of months, we're only telling a handful of people for now."

"Of course," Hermione said, hugging her best friend. "Thank you for telling me."

They looked at each other's faces and gave each other a happy smile. Hermione felt happy for her best friend, she indeed did. Harry always wanted to have a happy family, and it's finally happening for him. It was just a bit weird that all of it was happening while she was away.

"Everything is changing, isn't it?" Hermione said, echoing the words she uttered years before.

"It changed years ago, Hermione," Harry said. "Life is just happening."

Hermione pushed back happy tears as she hugged her best friend again.

"I promise as soon as I graduate this summer that you and Ginny would be my main focus," Hermione said. "But for now, go back home to Ginny."

Harry laughed as he obeyed, leaving a bitterly happy Hermione at the bar. A wedding and a baby on the way. Two things that would never happen in her life.

Hermione pushed back the tears and chugged the rest of her firewhiskey. She laid her head against her hand, her thoughts heavy. Hermione ordered another pint, and then another. She ordered the fifth pint as somebody occupied Harry's seat. Without even glancing at his direction, Hermione knew that it was her veela mate, Malfoy. He was drinking a pint of beer. Hermione knew that he's waiting for the right moment to say something, and she didn't care to wait.

She was tired. She was exhausted from her school work. She was exhausted from her trip to Paris. She was tired of feeling bad for herself. She was tired of feeling jealous of Harry and Ginny. She's tired of envying Blaise's nonna and her mate during that dinner. She was emotionally tired of running away. Why did she deny herself from her mate? Why did she deny herself the satisfaction of kissing him?

Hermione took Malfoy's hand and guided him to rooms upstairs, slamming more galleons than necessary at the bar. She looked for an available place and pounced. Each kiss sending electricity throughout her body, energizing her tired form. He responded in kind, practically clawing away her clothes.

Yes, this was right. This was how it was supposed to be. It was her right to tear away from his perfectly beautiful robes, exposing his lean form. This felt right. She pushed him toward the bed, ready to ride him, but he rolled them over, so he was on top.

Yes…

He ravaged her in the way she needed. Why did she wait this long?

He doesn't love you. A voice in her head called out.

That was right. He didn't love her. But it shouldn't matter, right? She was an adult. She had casual sex before. He had casual sex before. This means nothing for the two of them. It shouldn't matter, right?

A small corner of her mind rejoiced as Malfoy palmed her breasts as he left butterfly kisses down the valley of her breasts to her stomach and to her

Hermione was emotionally tired to resist. He doesn't love you. That's right. He doesn't love me, and he never will. This meant nothing.