I still don't own this of course!

Chapter two: Feeling Pressure

The Hogwarts express left that Tuesday at 4pm, and Draco was thankful when it finally did. Summer had been horrible; between his mother trying to force feed him books on magical creatures and his father not knowing, he was stuck. He stopped feeling tired some two days after Healer Fray's visit and his immune system was quite recovered, it seemed even better than before. The changes were only little, at first. But then he woke one morning and he looked at himself in the mirror and his eyes had become light blue. He put his clothes on and noticed that his cufflinks were tighter than normal. Evidently his arms, and indeed his entire body, had grown by about an inch. While changing he noticed something on his side and noticed that he had a mark. It was nothing definite, just a small blue line following the curve of his hip to his back. Sometimes, in the mornings especially, it would burn, obtaining a light hue of red.

He didn't think of it much. This entire situation was a bit like politics to him: As long as he doesn't notice it, he doesn't care. He'd read about Veelas, his mother had seen to that, and he remembered some things. He remembered there being words like: love, beauty, power, soul mate, bond, death, etc. The power part had been the only one to interest him, and as soon as that was coupled to 'soul-mate' he stopped reading.

He didn't partake in the usual Slytherin banter on the train; he simply looked outside with a nagging feeling in his colon that something was near. He did notice however, how Pansy and Millie kept looking at him and whispering things. He had expected it. The books did say he would attract attention – oh yes, he had been interested by that too.

As soon as he hopped off the train, through the country road, over the water and into the castle, heads turned towards him and he realised, that regardless his thirst for attention, all this was a little, creepy, for lack of a better word. He felt like a circus Zouwu. Eating in the Great Wall was even worse. There was one silver lining though; he knew that as a Veela he could only truly attract people who could, in normal conditions, also feel attracted towards him, i.e. girls and gays. He could hence pick out the gays of Hogwarts, which is what he did for most of the meal.

Draco could not sleep that night. Something told him to get up and move, but he didn't want too. The harder he tried to sleep, the more his body wanted to move. He continuously refused. He would not succumb to this. He is a Malfoy for fuck's sake. He never did sleep that night.

When he got up from his bed – when his alarm went off of course, not before – he felt exhausted. He wished that was all it was but there was more than that. He felt like he was floating. Every time he touched his body it felt like he was touched by someone else, as if that body was no longer his. The shivers travelling over his arms, like electric shocks beneath his own fingers, they were foreign, alien. They were not his hands. He shook his head and decided to ignore it, like he always does.

When he got into the common room, Pansy jumped on him, arms flinging around him. Her hand touched his neck and he squealed, his skin burnt where hers touched his.

"Shit Pansy!" he exclaimed and pushed her back. "Don't touch me!"

He immediately walked away, not waiting to see her reaction. As he rounded the corner, he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Shit shit fuck, he thought, they mustn't suspect. He took a deep inspiration and walked directly to class, completely bypassing the Great Hall for breakfast.

As he drew closer to History of Magic, a pressure nestled in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, slowly, willing his heart to follow the rhythm he was trying to impose. He sighed and continued on his way. He felt cold and heavy at the same time, like something was pushing his eyelids shut but was also blowing down his neck. He waited for class to start with a heavy heart, already dreading the year to come.

A mass of people arrived and he felt... appeased. The churning in his stomach left, his temperature regained a sense of normality and he no longer felt like a foreigner in his own body. Deep inside him he understood what it meant, but he wouldn't acknowledge it; having said that however, he did look around the class, instead of actually paying attention to the lesson. It was a mixed group of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco rolled his eyes at that and continued his survey. Many eyes turned to him. He smirked, yeah I know I'm gorgeous, don't wet yourselves.

As soon as he moved from that class onto the next, he felt bad again. The smile – dignified smirk, he mentally corrected - he wore for a while was completely extinguished. He felt heavy again. Worse, he felt sad. He had a hard time realising what the feeling was, but there it was: sadness. His lips twitched with the sentiment and he was angry with himself for letting that happen. He didn't know where it came from, but he could guess.

Pansy remained well away from him, doing her best I'm-angry-with-you impersonation; whilst Blaise kept an eye on him.

He scooted closer to his dear friend and whispered, "Look Princess, you look on the verge of crying, don't you realise we are in public?"

Draco turned and sneered at him, "Now you look, I am not on the verge of crying, I do know we are in class. You don't know a fucking fuck so keep out of my business and continue watching Daphne's disgusting breasts."

Blaise rolled his eyes and, indeed, turned to look at Daphne Greengrass' chest. A wry smile came upon his face and he leaned back towards Draco, saying, "Dray, if you think those are disgusting, then you've just got to be gay."

Draco didn't even bother answering that. He honestly couldn't care less. He'd been with girls and boys in the past, but what did it all matter in the end? He paused. Oddly enough, a butterfly did summersaults in his stomach thinking about it all. What if it was a man?

He didn't go to bed that evening, his inner self seemed too restless even though his outer self was screaming for a break. Instead he went to the library, looking up the books he had – or should have – read during the summer holiday. He scanned the shelves aimlessly. There would be no books on Veelas especially, Draco knew that Veelas were typical French and that Hogwarts couldn't have encountered many of them. He finally did find something of interest and sat down by a window to read. The book laid heavily and limp in his hands. He felt weak and still sad.

He turned around and looked at his surroundings, surveying any sign of life. Satisfied in his security, he let out a long breath and let himself feel just once. Tears welled up in his eyes and he didn't know why, but he let them fall silently. He breathed in and searched for the correct pages. He finally found it and started reading the parts that interested him, trying to obliviate his mind from his overflow of emotions.

Veelas are creatures of love, they not only crave it, they need it. They can't live without it. Veelas are amongst the only creatures alive that possess an actual soul-mate, or bond mate would be more accurate; a person who is compatible with the Veela in every way, the most perfect match there could be.

Finding your bond mate is essential once the inheritance completed. At first, the new genes in a Veela's body simply look for their mate. Alone a Veela will feel incomplete, with all the consequences of that; whilst when the mate is near a completion is met and the Veela will reach a stable state of content. As times goes by, to these symptoms a craving is added, a need so profound that the Veela will notice it can't carry on. As the identity of the mate becomes known, the Veela will slowly go crazy if it cannot be near it. See chapter 3.

Draco was already tired of all this. A stray, forgotten tear made its way onto the page, crashing like Draco's hopes. So he did need a... mate, a stupid fucking mate. He held his head between his hands, wiping the tears into the cracks of his palms. It had been little over a month since his sixteenth birthday. It was too fast. He walked back to his chambers, dragging his body along like bricks had been dropped on his feet, so tired, so heavy. His tears had stopped falling and were now only memories scarred across his cheeks.

And suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He inhaled a deep breath as if he hadn't taken one forever. A pressure was lifted from his entire being, he felt light. All fatigue dissolved from him and he searched around him with open eyes. He was searching, looking for him – if it was a him. There was no one there, and that knowledge dropped on him and he was ready to sink to his knees. Pride made him stop and he ran to his room, wanting to leave as quickly as he could.

In bed he started thinking of it all, of being a Veela and needing a mate. He was still against it. His whole being was against it – even that nagging feeling in his chest(!). He had been taught he was a pureblood. He had grown up knowing that pureblood ways were the right ways. He believed in little, but he had always believed in the Dark Lord's cause, and now, everything was turned upside down; and he fell asleep thinking that he was actually quite curious to find out who his mate would have been.

Woah I finished the second chapter! I'm really glad about it, but please do not get used to it, I am not normally this quick... Thank you for your support and stay tuned!

*Edited