His Veela Heritage by RiverWriter

chapter 3

Draco had never been so nervous in his life; scared out of his mind more times than he could count thanks to some truly insane relatives and the Dark Lord, but nerves? Malfoys just didn’t really do nerves. After the initial revelation of his status as a veela and of Hermione as his mate, he’d determined to do whatever he had to do to have her. But then, upon reflection and in a fit of unprecedented selflessness, he’d reconsidered.

He realized that any relationship they built could only benefit him. She was a rising star at the ministry and in British magical society as a whole, whereas his personal reputation and his family name both had big black stains on them shaped like the Dark Lord’s hideous mark. He had a scar on his forearm to remind him of that fact everyday. On top of that, those two oafs she called best friends despised him and the Weasleys hated his family; there was a good chance that none of them would ever accept him and she could lose most of the people she cared for in the magical world if she became involved with him. Then, of course, there was the memory of the hideous way that he and his family had treated her in the past, and how his parents very well may continue to in the future. How could he ask her to just endure all of that? Simply put, he couldn’t.

His resolution lasted a few weeks. But then the reality of being alone for the rest of what he could expect, as a wizard and a veela at that, to be a very long life began to set in; the thought of pining for her from afar, watching her loving other men, maybe even having a family. It was just too much for him to bear and he determined that he would at least make sure she knew that she had a choice.

He would tell her about his new abilities, about their connection, he would let her know that nobody could ever love her the way he would love her. He would explain that they were predestined to have beautiful, brilliant, magically gifted children; and that their family could rule the world if she wished it (because Gryffindor though she may be, he’d gone to school with her and he knew how fiercely ambitious she was). He would let her decide if it was worth it, and he would do everything in his power to make it so.

He set about formulating a plan as to how to best go about telling her. Not seeing her was…hard. So, like a besotted fool, he lurked around the ministry occasionally just so he could catch a glimpse of her, and it was a good thing he was an excellent lurker because if anybody had figured out what he was really doing he would have died on the spot of mortification.

It was difficult to get used to, the new desperation he felt for her, while still also being the cool reserved pureblood he’d always been. It was like having a split personality, one attitude towards her and another towards the rest of the world. Everything and nothing had changed.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to research the plan he was finally enacting, because it required going out into the muggle world, wearing muggle clothes, and interacting with muggles. None of which he knew how to do, at least not without seriously endangering the Statute of Secrecy, or looking like an idiot in front of the only woman he’d ever really wanted to impress. But he couldn't meet her in the magical world, the two of them alone together would attract attention, they'd have no hope of a private conversation. He finally enlisted a friend of his cousin who was a half-blood- because he didn’t know anybody personally who knew anything about muggles- to help him and she graciously gave him advice and patiently answered all of his questions.

So, that was how he’d gotten here, sitting in a little Italian restaurant across from a witch he’d spent years bullying who now held his entire future happiness in her tiny hands. If she was surprised by where he'd taken her she hadn't said anything. However, he hadn’t missed the look of astonishment on her face when he’d removed his outer robes before they left the ministry to reveal the shirt and trousers that Marion had assured him were appropriate for the time of day and the restaurant. He also hadn’t missed the appreciative glance that followed as her eyes raked over his body. He knew he was a good looking wizard, and vain enough about it to simply expect witches to be attracted to him. So the warmth that blossomed in his chest when he noticed Hermione admiring him was entirely new, and for the first time he let himself believe that maybe this might actually work out.