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Narcissa Malfoy knew what she was. She knew who she was. Narcissa was a wife and a mother. She had no real aspirations beyond those labels but why would she? She’d found her mate at a young age, wooed him, and married him. They had one beautiful son.
Then her mate, her husband, got too far ahead of himself. Power was a peculiar affliction of men and one they never seemed to understand without ruining everything around them. She resented Lucius for this from the beginning. But, he was hers. She would follow him into any fire. The Veela in her blood and in her mind insisted on it.
But then, her son was put at risk.
Narcissa didn’t have a very strong grasp on what her Veela blood entailed. It was a well kept secret in the House of Black and would present randomly generation after generation. Her sisters were spared. Her parents were simply thrilled that Narcissa’s mate was a Malfoy .
What better could you ask for, Cissy?
She couldn’t ask for better but now her son was in danger . And despite her mate's ambitions, which she had accepted and embraced, Narcissa could not and would not sacrifice her family to a mad man drunk on power and violence.
No, that just wouldn’t do.
As it turned out, Veela were particularly protective of their offspring. Why wouldn’t they be? Their children were the result of a perfect mating bond.
So, Narcissa took matters into her own hands to save her son.
Draco. Is he alive?
The Potter boy’s affirmation was enough.
And so she lied.
The Dark Lord was destroyed while she held her son’s hand and walked away from Hogwarts, her mate stumbling after them.
Narcissa knew there would be a reckoning but for the moment she had felt she’d won this stupid war as she gripped her son’s sweaty palm and looked back at her mate with a roll of her eyes. Lucius would become better again. He would be who he was supposed to be because he was her mate and she wouldn’t accept otherwise. Megalomaniacs were just a particularly difficult obstacle, as it turned out.
So it goes.
Trial after trial after trial. Lucius gave up everyone he knew to be involved, as his wife instructed him to do. He received house arrest for 3 years, no magic. This was not well received by most people.
Narcissa and Draco did even better. The Potter boy and his two friends testified on their behalf. This surprised Draco but it did not surprise Narcissa.
During that time, Draco’s 18th birthday had come and gone. Narcissa saw the changes in her son. Not the trauma, not the guilt – those were a given. No, Draco was experiencing other changes. He had grown much taller and broader in a short amount of time, his skin became almost luminous rather than pale, his eyes were still his father’s gray but they reflected the light like jewels, and his hair became more white than blonde. All of these changes happened too fast and scared Narcissa.
She researched all the books she could about Veela’s, all the journals she had from previous House Black women, she spent sleepless nights poring through all the information she had gathered.
Her son was presenting as a male Veela. Very, very rare to the point that most pertinent information she could only find in obscure folklore texts. Narcissa had always thought that since the Malfoy line was so pure and only bore sons this would never be an issue she would have to deal with. Even her husband didn’t know what she was – only that his wife was desperately in love with him and the feeling was mutual despite his stupid decisions over the last 20 years.
Narcissa took her findings and conferred with her sister, Andromeda.
“What are you going to do? You’ll tell Draco, won’t you?” Andromeda asked as she bounced her grandson on her knee.
“Yes, of course. Other than him being even more beautiful, it shouldn’t affect him much?”
Andromeda peered over Teddy’s head. “Until he finds a mate, anyway.”
Narcisa was nervous. Veela females were more controlled when they sensed and found their mates. It was a dance for them and they were never denied once the Veela female claimed their mate. Of course they were prone to bouts of anger and jealousy, that was a given but by virtue of being female, of being women … well, they knew the risks of being construed as an insane, hysterical person.
But what she’d read about male Veela suggested they were more possessive and volatile.
Andromeda watched her sister and leaned over to pat her on the hand. “Draco will have you to guide him. And hopefully he will be a bit older before he finds his mate.”
Narcissa wanted to take comfort in this but she didn’t. When it came to the Malfoys, nothing was sure.
So, Narcissa sat down with her son who was already trying to recover from the trauma of his ordeals, and explained to him that he was a male Veela.
Her son just sighed after listening to his mother’s lecture. “So, what, mother? Just something else. I find my mate and hope I don’t go insane? I’m too tired to go insane.”
Narcissa wrung her hands. Draco was too far gone for the information she was giving him to be sticking in any real way.
“Draco, I want you to attend your 8th year at Hogwarts and finish your NEWTS.”
“Alright, mother.”
Narcissa’s heart broke. Her son was ruined. The Dark Lord has ruined him. Her crazy bitch of a sister had ruined him.
Narcissa’s Veela was not heart broken and whispered veiled, hidden words that flitted across her consciousness Fear not for this male our son he is strong he will find a strong mate that will make him grow and soar
“Then that’s settled. I’ll answer any questions you have about the changes you’re going through. I think this will be good for you, Draco, and will help clear the family name.”
Draco snorted. “Unlikely.”
His response was the most personality she had seen from him in weeks. Narcissa just smiled and ran her fingers through her son’s soft hair which was now paler than moonlight. Her Veela purred.
—
Draco collapsed into one of the chairs in the Slytherin common room. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini followed suit. The three of them were the only 8th year Syltherins that had returned to Hogwarts. Predictably, they’d received a lot of hateful glares, side-eyes, snarls, upturned noses.
Why was he here?
Mother asked me
“We just keep our heads down and it will get better,” Theo murmured. Theo was ridiculously optimistic for a Slytherin.
“Or we’ll be dead within the year,” Blaise said. Blaise was appropriately cynical for a Slytherin.
Draco sighed. “Let’s just get it done.”
Blaise peered at Draco which he’d been doing off and on ever since they boarded the train. “ What, Zabini?” Draco hissed.
“You look different and I’m not the only one that has noticed. Several girls have been looking at you moony eyed.”
“Jealous that I might be prettier than you, Zabini?”
Blaise scoffed. “No, Draco. I’m a beautiful man. I always have been. But whatever is going on with you isn’t just physical changes. You’re glowing, mate, internally and externally.”.
“You really are, Draco. Are you using a glamour?” Theo asked.
Draco rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.. “No.”
Blaise and Theo waited.
“Apparently, the Black family has a Veela ancestor whose power manifests randomly throughout the generations. Usually female descendants. My mother. And apparently, I am the very rare Veela male that has started to… present. There’s a lot my mother and I don’t know about..”
“Holy shit,” Theo whispered.
“This stays between us,” Draco hissed, the luminescent aura around him rippling and growing..
Blaise and Theo both nodded.
Draco trusted them, He had to. He had no one else here.
—
The Veela thing hadn’t really clicked in Draco’s mind other than when he saw himself in the mirror. Draco had known he was a good looking wizard but whatever was happening to him now… well, he wondered if he should start using a glamour to hide it .
In another life, he would be preening and peacocking with the attention he was receiving but that wasn’t his life now. Not after everything. He was so fucking tired.
Draco walked in and sat down for his first block. Advanced Arithmancy. He was early. He felt a bit of a spark at the prospect. He was good at this. Arthimancy made sense. It didn’t require endless planning to murder someone to save his family.
That’s where Draco’s bar was now. If it didn’t involve planning to murder Albus Dumbledore, then it was probably going to be fine.
He was so fucked.
He removed his parchment and his quill from his bag and waited for other students to pile in, watching with disinterest. Blaise and Theo wouldn’t be in this class.
He was already surrounded by the whispers of 7th years. None of them positive except the occasional observation of his appearance. This was just how it was going to be and he knew he deserved it.
But then.
Hermione Granger walked in.
And every experience of his life expanded and condensed and collapsed in on itself to become this fucking moment.
She was carrying her ridiculously heavy bag and her bushy hair was flying in all directions and she looked flustered as she looked around the room and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever fucking seen. And something deep inside him that had been sleeping woke up, stretched, and squawked like an excited bird, ruffling its feathers. .
She looked at him and tilted her head. Then made her way to his table and sat next to him.
“Hi, Malfoy. Alright if I sit here?”
“Go ahead,”
She dumped her heavy pack down and started placing supplies down next to him. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I want to sit next to you.”
That was the question.
“There aren’t many 8th year students back. And so far the younger ones just… don’t get it.”
He inhaled and it was a mistake because she smelled … fuck, it wasn’t even aromatic like flowers or vanilla. She smelled like 9am during the height of Spring when everything was so incredibly green and new and the sun was hitting all of it just right, so it was all glowing. She smelled like the silence of fresh, untouched snow in the morning just before dawn. The wind and lightning during a thunderstorm and the wild rustling of leaves. Like the feeling of falling asleep in a freshly made bed when the air was cold but the blankets were soft and warm and everything would be okay because he was safe and so was she.
What the fuck.
“I get it, Granger.”
She smiled at him, shyly. “I thought you might.”
His breath hitched. The feathers in his mind kept rustling. He had been vaguely listening to his mother about Veelas finding their mates. He didn’t ask for details because his father was his mother’s mate and he thought that was a tragedy.
He assumed it would be a mostly sexual thing – an imperative to breed. He thought if or when it happened, it would be lust and inevitable permanent attachment with no choice involved. A biological imperative.
He was not lusting for Granger.
This was something else, something other .
And as Professor Vector began to lecture and Granger wrote on her parchment at a rapid pace, murmuring under her breath, Draco felt a sense of inevitability wash over him.
She was writing in a frantic manner, holding her quill tight, her shoulders tense. As if everything hinged on what she could absorb and gather even though Vector was just going over the syllabus. The war broke her too.
Granger’s quill broke and she made an adorable sound of dismay. He handed his quill over to her.
She looked up at him with those big brown eyes and smiled again. “Thank you.” and it was like jumping into cold fresh water on an unbearably hot day.
“Any time.”