His Veela Heritage by RiverWriter

chapter 7

Draco would have been embarrassed by his reaction to the owl Hermione sent him on the sixth day, had anybody else been present when he received it. As it was he was too thrilled to bother trying to wipe the ridiculous grin off of his face. She wanted to see him. She had invited him to her flat. He probably should have suggested an alternate location as he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself while both in her presence and in her space, but he was too curious, he wanted to see where she lived. He wanted to know everything about her.

As he had previously suspected she lived in the muggle world. He didn’t blame her, it was the only place she could get any anonymity. That was the reason he'd originally taken her to a muggle restaurant. Her comfort was paramount. But thankfully for him she was connected to the floo network, otherwise he wouldn’t have had a clue how to go about finding her flat. He stepped out into her living room at the agreed upon time after work the next day, to find her standing there waiting on him.

She looked beautiful in a red dress held up with small straps and then cinched at her tiny waist, turning into a full skirt which ended just above her knees and gave him a lovely view of her cleavage. Draco had a feeling he was going to become a big fan of muggle clothing. Her hair was wild and free around her face, she didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup at all, and her feet were adorably bare. She hadn't dressed up, she looked nice but casual, this was no formal meeting.

He was happily caught by surprise when she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was the perfect height for him to place his chin on the top of her head when she snuggled into him, he felt like he had finally come home. Her blissful sigh echoed his.

“So, does this mean you're willing to give me a chance?” he wondered aloud, unable to wait another moment.

“What?” she gasped, “oh yes, of course,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and then she buried her face in his chest, “but I owe you an apology first,” her hesitant voice was muffled by the fabric of his robes.

“For what?” he wondered.

What could have his brave mate basically cowering against him?

“I’ve been a selfish coward.”

He snorted, he certainly hadn't expected that.

“You? Gryffindor’s golden girl? I don't think anybody could ever accuse you of cowardice, recklessness maybe,” he teased gently, attempting to coax her out of her funk.

“But I have been, it's just that you scare me,” she wailed.

He froze and his thoughts began to race. She was scared of him? That shouldn't have been possible, her instincts should have told her that she was safe with him. But of course he had been a Death Eater, part of a group that had actively enslaved, tortured, and murdered people of her blood status. She'd been a victim of that torture and he a witness, he'd done nothing to protect her. Their new situation didn't erase their pasts, it was one thing to be casual friends and quite another to trust somebody enough to be in a romantic relationship. But she said she was going to give him a chance, what was she playing it? Luckily she seemed to understand his thoughts before he could get carried away with despair. She craned her neck to look him in the eye.

“Oh, no, no not like that! I’ve never been scared of you! No offense, but I didn’t find you particularly intimidating, ‘wait till my Father hears about this,’” she mocked lightly in a surprisingly good imitation of his unique inflection.

The relief he felt was nearly overwhelming, he didn't even care that she was making fun of him.

“This is you apologizing?” he joked.