Never have I written a whole Harry Potter story, but I thought I'd have a crack at it. I hope I do this story justice. It's an amazing series, and I recommend both the stories and the movies. Srsly. JK Rowling is the epitome of badassery, and I bow to her writing skills. That is all.

This story takes place after the war

"So you're finally awake, then?"

Smirking to myself, I glanced out of my bedroom window. I noticed that my eyesight had gotten much better over the course of my change. I shivered as the memory of the pain I had endured flew through my mind.

Rolling my shoulders, tensely, I drawled, lazily, "Have been for a while now, Mr Malfoy.. How long have I been out for?"

My eyes fell back onto his disgruntled form, and I couldn't help but chuckle, internally.

He stated, airily, "Only a few hours. It's early afternoon. Now, I know this is tedious, but I must ask you a few questions, okay?"

Eventually, I nodded, dutifully, and he continued, "Do you know the date?"

Of course I did, it was my birthday. Why would I forget that? Did he expect me to forget or something?

Without realising it, I grinned, brightly, and he seemed to freeze for a second, as I exclaimed, "It's the fourth of August. My birthday."

He nodded, interested, and paused for a moment, thinking about something that changed his features, yet I couldn't quite catch before he delved right back in, "Do you know who I am?"

At his questioning tone, I rolled my eyes, surreptitiously, and said, "Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have called you Malfoy, now would I?"

It came across more aggressively and sardonically that I would have liked it to be, but he didn't seem to mind. It was like he was used to it.

He tutted, lightly, and responded, equally as sarcastically, "Okay, smartass, I was just checking. This is the more difficult one, do you know what you are?"

I paused, briefly, and felt my skin crawl, instinctively. I averted my eyes, and stated, with righteous anger pumping through my veins, "Some kind of hybrid type thing. I'm not human."

Without realising it, Lucius rubbed comforting circles on my upper arm, and I couldn't help but dip into his arms, slightly. I hid my face in his shoulder, something radiating from his body was calming my jolting nerves, and I sighed, deeply.

"Do I look any less human to you?"

Pathetically, I shook my head, still in his shoulder, and he continued, "I'm exactly the same as you. Well.. I'm a Veela. A dominant. My wife, Narcissa, she's my mate. My son, Draco, he's your mate. Or at least, he could be, depending on what you decide to do, of course."

A cleft appeared between my eyebrows, and I opened my mouth, ready to ask about his son, when he interrupted me, and said, finally, "No more talking about this. Like you said, it's your birthday, let's go and get your presents."

At the mention of 'presents' all my previous woes disappeared, and I jumped up, intending on sprinting downstairs, however my head began spinning, and my world fell onto its axis. I could barely breathe for a moment, and Lucius caught me in his arms, once more.

"Whoa there, take your time, you've been more or less comatose for almost 12 hours," and he chuckled to himself.

"Get in the shower, get dressed and come downstairs. Nicole's making you breakfast," and he slunk out of my bedroom silently, after having picked up his discarded jacket and smiled in my direction.

I stretched slightly, hearing the clicking of the vertebrae in my back in response, and I sighed, happily. I glided over towards my halfway hidden, walk-in closet, and pulled out a fluffy, white linen towel and a clean pair of black underwear, plus my outfit for the day; a pair of denim, frayed shorts, and an over-sized maroon sweatshirt that Dylan bought me last year at some festival that we had attended together, and my favorite pair of beige colored Converse sneakers.

Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed that my hair seemed to brush across my back lower than it ever had before, which I found to be strange, and it was only when I walked past the ceiling-to-floor mirror, wide set mirror, and I noticed that my hair was, not only, far longer, but thicker, and was stained a dark mousse chocolate in colour. Instead of that atrocity of a fringe I used to have, my hair had grown out into natural middle parting, and framed my face, rather angelically if I do say so myself. I ran a hand through my hair, noting that my fingers were slightly thinner, and my nails were longer, yet rounded at the tips.

The eyes that were eerily staring back at me, weren't the usual dull blue that I was used to, and I found that they were an almost supernaturally ultramarine colour. My skin was had taken on a radiant-like hue, instead of the sullen pale that I disliked so much beforehand. My eyebrows were neat and curved at the ends, surrounding my eyes. My cheeks and nose bridge were speckled with freckles and made my face seem more elfin and adorable-looking. I had to admit, if these were the perks of being.. Whatever they say I am, it might not be so bad.

Carelessly, I pulled my hair over one of my shoulders, and once I got to grips with my new 'look', I padded into the en suite mini-washroom that my.. Dad - can I even say that now? - fitted almost 6 years ago. I hung the towel over the chrome railing, and switched the shower on. I waited until it rained hot enough for my tastes. All of a sudden, I felt like a very, very, very hot shower. As soon as my skin was touched by the scalding droplets, I felt completely at ease, and all of my worries seemed to melt away, like the water swirling in the drains.

I dipped my head under the spray of the water, and ran my hands through it, catching a few knots in the process. I squirted some scented shampoo into my palm and lathered it into my scalp, until I felt as though it were bleeding. I scrubbed away the grime and sweat from last night, and noticed that the joints in my knees were sore and aching. Does that mean I grew? Or did I shrink? I glanced to the side, and found that the shower-head was, indeed, further away from me that usual.

For the love of God I've literally shrunk. What else do you want to take away from me? My soul?

I rolled my eyes, clearly annoyed, and I finished up in the shower, quickly. I wrapped the towel around my body, and padded back into my bedroom, wincing at the sudden chill of the marble floor against my bare feet. I threw on my underwear, and a pair of grey knee-high socks, then the outfit I had chosen earlier. I wrapped my hair up with the now damp towel, and, after my tresses was reasonably dry, I ran serum through my hair, and then, a brush followed suit.

As quickly as I was able, I made my way downstairs, and as soon as I stepped into the living room, I was assaulted with the sharp snapping sound of a party poppers exploding from all directions in my ears, and the scent of burnt wood and confectioneries permeated the air.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETHEART!"

I hope you liked it. Have a good day.