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

I smiled, widely, and took in the sight of my newly renovated living room. There was the usual banner along the length of the cream wall, with 'Happy 17th Birthday, Evie' printed in big, bright, gaudy purple lettering. It contrasted, horridly, with the colouring of the wall, however, the sentiment was still there, and I thanked them for that.

There were balloons, of varying sizes, scattered all over the floor, some bouncing along the carpet, others floating surreptitiously in the air, and I grinned to myself. I felt a blush work its way onto my features, even though we've been through this every year, for as long as I can remember.

There were identical smiles planted onto each of the faces of my family members, as well as the somewhat glazed indistinguishable expressions flourishing on the faces of Dyl and Jase.

I couldn't believe they had gone through so much trouble for me, even though the change I had just went through basically changed my life, completely. I suppose that was something that I was nervous about; if they would still love and care about me even though I'm a little different. I mean, inside, I'm still the same girl.

I waved, skittishly, and said, awkwardly, "Hey guys."

They gave me a synchronised wave, and I smiled directly at them. Dylan was the first to speak, and he said, "You look… Good."

He struggled slightly with the final word, and I suppose he was looking for the most appropriate way to phrase his statement, without offending anyone else in the room. I knew, had it been just us three, he would have probably laughed at me and told me that my 'pins looked smoking'.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged, minutely. I glanced at Jason and saw he was staring out of the window, more than slightly awkwardly, and a crease appeared beneath my brows at that.

Had I done something wrong?

"Happy birthday sweetie."

My mom's loving embrace drew my from my thoughts, and I could do nothing but return it with my own. I wrapped my nimble arms around her fairly defined, thin waist, and I felt her sniffle into my shoulder.

I tapped her on the back, slightly, and admonished, lightly, "Don't cry, momma. If you start, I'll start, you know that."

My dad wrapped his arms around both of our shoulders, and his strong, masculine scent fed through my nostrils. I didn't know why, but my sense of smell seemed to have heightened in the last few hours, and I could smell, literally, everything.

The chocolate my mom used in the cake, hell, I could smell the flour, the eggs, the butter cream. Everything. The bleach that was used to clean the downstairs and upstairs bathroom last night, probably, was stinging the cilia hairs in my nose, and I couldn't help but faintly wince as it did so.

Anxiously, I ran a hand through my locks, and twirled the ends through my fingers. My mom appraised my look, silently, however, my dad, being the protective idiot that he was, merely stated, "Your look is a little.. Drastic, don't you think?," and rubbed the back of his head apprehensively, almost as if he expected me to explode or something.

I simply smiled, and nodded, completely agreeing with what he was saying. I was used to short hair, and scraggly limbs, not luscious curls and having a nimble, lithe body. I didn't know why but I felt a little uncomfortable, knowing that people were watching me.

I glanced at Lucius Malfoy, and he was smirking, knowingly, to himself, with his arms crossed over his shoulders. His attire had changed since I had last seen him, however, he was sporting something close to a poorly disguised black eye.

I asked, inquisitively, "What happened to you, Mr Malfoy?"

For a moment, he looked confused, then at the prompt of his wife, an understanding expression crept onto his face. He pointed at his injured eye, and said, straightforwardly, "My son got a little too eager when I told him you were awake."

My face looked nothing short of horrified, and he was quick to amend, "No, don't worry, he's not usually violent, trust me. He's just a little.. Excitable, right now."

Once more, I raised an eyebrow and he sighed, "I'm not really explaining this right, am I?"

I shook my head, and he asked, "Take a seat, please. All three of you. We need to talk some things out."

I sat on the floor, adjacent to the fireplace, yet in front of the television and floor-to-ceiling windows and door, that led to the substantial back garden. My parents took a seat, both of them holding hands, lovingly, and I had to smile, to myself, at least.

He began, professionally, "First of all, we need for you, Evelyn, to make a decision of whether or not you want to come and live with us until the start of the new year - of which you would attend Hogwarts, along with your friends, "Dylan" and "Jason", or, who we all know as Raphael and Michelangelo," and at this, I saw that, in my peripherals, Dyl and Jase averted their gazes.

I cut in, quickly, "What about their parents?"

He chuckled, and said, "They weren't actually their parents, Evelyn, they have already been obliviated."

Confused, I enquired, "What does that mean?"

He smirked, deviously, and said, "Sorry, I forget that you havent been a part of our world for very long. 'Obliviate' is a very useful spell that we use to take away someone's specific memories. It is very difficult to replace the memories once they're gone. Of course, it depends on the strength of the witch or wizard casting the spell as well as the person, or persons, who the spell is being cast upon, but it's normally permanent."

I nodded, understandingly, and I glanced at my parents, needing advice on the situation. My dad sighed, and rubbed at his temples, clearly at his wits end. Tearing up slightly, my mother said, as strongly as she was able, "It will do you a lot of good going there, Evie. We'll just miss you so much while you're gone."

I nodded, and turned back to the Malfoys, and said, "Can I give you my answer by the end of the day?"

They nodded in agreement, and I smiled, thankful. Valencia then chose this moment to sashay into the living room, colourful bags upon bags held in both of her palms with foreign labels printed on the front, and I sent her a questioning stare.

"You're my daughter-in-law. It's your birthday. It's time to celebrate!"

She clicked her fingers, and out of nowhere, neatly, festively decorated presents appeared beneath the banner, alongside the other gifts the others had accumulated while I had been asleep. I couldn't stop the telltale signs of excitement settle in my stomach at the thought of opening these presents.

What? It was my birthday after all.

Lucius carried on, seriously, "Okay, well I'm sure you've noticed some extreme changes that you've underwent in the last few hours," and at my nod, he continued, "Well, you know what you are, correct? According to the Ministry of Magic, you're one of the only vampire-veela's to have ever existed. Period. You're incredibly rare, in your own rite. There will be people who will hunt you, and people who will manipulate you for your abilities. You're going to be very powerful once you get a handle of your unrestrained magic. Believe me, the magical world is a seedy, bitter one, and I've lost many a friend to the darkness of it. I would like to protect you, not because you're my son's mate, and therefore an honorary Malfoy at heart, but because you're a young, impressionable, lost child, and you need someone to be there for you. Could you find it inside of you to let me, let us, be a few of those people?"

The air in my lungs seemed to have morphed into sandpaper, and I found it difficult to breathe steadily, let alone respond in anything other than wheezes and coughs. All I could do was give him a small, detached nod, and at the gentle nudging of my father's hand, I stood, as did Lucius, and he embraced me in his strong, surprisingly muscular arms. It felt eerily similar to when my father hugged me, except he smelt something akin to lemongrass and lavender, whereas my father smelt like spices and sharp scented soaps, that tickled my nose, yet not uncomfortably.

I returned his hug, and his wife chose this time to join in. She, much unlike her husband, smelt like regal, soft perfumes and ginger - a scent I had grown to love over the time I spent cooking alongside my mother. Jase and Dylan stared around the room, uncomfortably, and I laughed, silently, at their discomfort. This was their punishment for lying to me. This was about as sadistic as I could be, especially with them. They're my best friends. More than that. They are my brothers; my family.

Valencia clapped her hands together, happily, and said, jovially, "Oh, look at this. You all look so happy. I only wish our sons could see her now. They wouldn't know what to think," and with a somewhat randy wink in my direction, she flittered off into the kitchen, mumbling something I couldn't quite hear, even with my improved sensitivity.

"Okay, now that we have all that out of the way," and Narcissa released me from her hold, effectively breaking whatever trace we had been in and stated, contentedly, "Onto the presents, my dear."

The cheeky grin that flashed across my face was nothing short of cheek-splitting.