His Veela Heritage by RiverWriter

chapter 5

Draco hadn’t known it was possible because post owls were especially hearty creatures, but over the next few days Hermione wore his personal owl, Aeolus, out from the sheer volume of her correspondence, and he had to resort to using the family owls to communicate with her. Luckily for him his father’s sense of self importance meant that the Manor had an owlery full of discreet and efficient birds, even these days when communication between the Malfoys and the outside world was at an all time low. Draco couldn’t figure out how she was churning out the letters so quickly unless she was using a dicta-quill, but he thought that seemed out of character for her. She would feel the need to put her full effort into her writing just like she did everything else. (When he had a thought like that, which he was having with increasing frequency, he realized how closely he'd been watching her for years without even knowing it, and he wondered if his harassment of her hadn't just been a subconscious way to get close to her. He’d had no trouble ignoring all the other muggleborn students at Hogwarts. Had he known all along on an instinctual level that she was special?)

Unfortunately for him, for as much information as he provided her, he received almost nothing in return, just more questions. He tried not to worry about karma. She asked questions about things he hadn’t even considered and then asked for clarification on his points of clarification. He hinted, more than once, that the discussions would be more effective and certainly more efficient in person, but she pointedly ignored him. He suspected that he’d scared her with his raw words at the restaurant, she’d beaten a hasty retreat after their lunch and wouldn’t even allow him to escort her back to the Ministry, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d had to make sure she understood.

He also wondered if it was difficult for her to stay away from him. If she felt even a fraction of the compulsion to be around him that he felt to be around her. The journals assured him that she would, so she must, they'd been right about everything else. Then again, hadn't Hermione Granger been the exception to every other rule he'd ever learned? Merlin, for all he knew she was only writing him because he was a source of intellectual curiosity for her! And even if she did feel something for him, he knew she was a stubborn thing and her keeping her distance wasn’t a huge surprise, or so he consoled himself. He also reminded himself that he hadn't even expected her to accept him, and certainly not right away. She was a truthfinder, his mate, she at least needed time to gather all the facts. So, he tried not to dwell on it too much, lest he begin to despair. He was becoming embarrassingly melodramatic and could only hope that years of practice masking his emotions would keep anybody from finding out, though he doubted he'd be able to hide it from his mate. If she ever consented to see him again, that is. Right, he wasn't panicking at all.

The only thing that kept him from saying ‘blast it all,’ and just showing up at her office at the Ministry again was the fact that he knew she didn’t desire it, and the only compulsion stronger than the one to be with her was the one to make her happy. It had been quite a thing to come to terms with- for a man who had been such a spoiled and selfish child- that her happiness would forevermore be his first priority, even if it meant his own suffering. He also knew that nothing would make him happier than if she would allow him to be the one to make her happy. He was an enamored fool and all he could do about it was continue to answer her questions, wait, and hope.

He was a bit surprised by her level of interest in the transformation itself. She wanted intricate details about how it felt, wondered if it was anything like taking polyjuice potion. He was touched when he finally realized that she was concerned that it might be painful for him, especially considering that she had been the catalyst for his first transformation. He put her fears to rest, and explained that it was somewhat like a polyjuice transformation except it came from within, instead of the potion acting on his magic to force the transformation, thus there was none of the discomfort associated with taking that particular potion. He admitted that it had taken him three days to calm down enough to transform back into his normal self after his first forced transformation, but explained that he could now do it at will, though he did feel the urge to transform whenever his emotions were heightened. If he felt like she was in any sort of danger he suspected he’d have trouble stopping himself from transforming, considering that her safety and happiness were now his raison d'etre.

She wanted to know all about his heightened senses. She’d proposed experiments that they could use to test the limits of his new abilities (this perked him up, she clearly wanted to be involved and he'd let her use him as a guinea pig all day long if it meant spending that time with her.) She'd questioned him as to the extent to which he had experimented with his allure. It was nearly endless. He was frustrated, amused, and strangely aroused. He could only hope her insatiable thirst for knowledge was matched in other areas.

Until, after two days of letters asking about him he realized that she was very pointedly avoiding talking about them. Finally, she tentatively asked what his parents thought about all of this, especially about her being his mate, (the tone of her letter practically screamed caution) and he was forcibly reminded how tenuous their situation was. He wasn't sure either of them had a single person in their lives who would approve if they went forward with a relationship. To him that felt like a minor hiccup, but it might be too big of a sacrifice for her to make. He swallowed his dread as he responded to her letter. He admitted that he hadn’t told his parents yet because he’d felt very strongly that he should tell her first, and that he would let her decide how to proceed. Pre-war it would have been odd for him to lock himself in his wing of the Manor for days at a time and he probably would have been found out, but these days that wasn’t unusual and his parents remained ignorant of his new abilities, and especially of his mate.

When she asked him to speculate on their reactions he told her that he expected them to be pleased; veela were rare and powerful, especially males, he was probably the first in Britain in centuries. He was much less certain about their reactions to her. He simply didn’t know if the veela aspect would influence them or if they would still refuse to accept a muggleborn into the family. He made it abundantly clear, though, that he would stand by her no matter what they thought, and that it hadn’t even been difficult to come to that decision, his devotion to her was unflinching.

When she suggested that it was odd that she, of all people, ended up as his mate, he admitted he’d thought so too, at first. But upon further contemplation he had realized that it made perfect sense. It was unfortunate that they’d had such a combative history, but that had been much more a result of circumstances than any indication that they were unsuited. They were both intelligent, numbers one and two in their class for their entire Hogwarts careers. Everybody knew that she liked to read- thanks to the press’ obsession with the so-called ‘Golden Trio’ following the war- and though he was quieter about it, he was also a bibliophile. He had a feeling that her Gryffindor optimism would soothe some of his Slytherin cynicism, and his no nonsense attitude would curb some of her bossy behavior. He no longer cared about blood status, and while it might upset his parents that she was a muggleborn, he actually thought it was time to diversify the bloodlines. There were simply too few purebloods left for them to continue to only marry one another. She was one of the most brilliant and powerful witches in any recent generation, it made perfect sense that his veela nature would be drawn to her and that they would be destined to bring powerful, gifted children into a world that had been badly ravished by three separate wars in the past century.

She wrote him dozens of feet of parchment and yet he had no real idea of how she was feeling about everything he told her, of how she felt about him at all. She was perfectly polite, nothing more, nothing less. He always thought she wore her heart on her sleeve. He'd scoffed at her typical Gryffindor-ness. Well, the joke was on him, because apparently she was capable of being as evasive as any Slytherin.

Most frustratingly, his newfound respect and desire for her kept him from pushing her, he would simply exist in limbo until she was good and ready to decide how they were going to proceed. After the Dark Lord he’d promised himself he’d never again allow himself to come under the control of another. Apparently destiny had other ideas. But despite it all he still somehow knew that no matter the outcome he would never regret her.