His Veela Heritage by RiverWriter

chapter 9

They eventually pulled apart and he transformed back into his normal body. He reluctantly put his shirt back on, even though he adored the way she kept sneaking glances at his bare chest and blushing. But he sensed the moment had passed and his half-dressed state was making her increasingly uncomfortable. He was rewarded when she asked him to stay for dinner and the emotion he felt when she did, well he thought it would be described as giddy. He didn’t know, he’d never felt it before, and even in his current besotted state would never admit to something so undignified. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in taking her up on her offer. She wandered into her kitchen and he followed her, curious about her muggle flat.

The first thing he spotted when he entered the room was a large metal bowl sitting next to the sink, but it had holes all over it. That didn't seem very useful. He looked over to Hermione who was rummaging around in a drawer, oblivious to his scrutiny.

“My queen,” he crooned.

“Hmmm?” she answered absentmindedly, not turning away from whatever she was doing.

“What is this?”

She turned around slowly and he pointed to the seemingly useless bowl contraption.

“The holes seem like they would defeat the purpose,” he clarified.

Her face morphed into an expression of pure amusement.

“It’s called a colander, it’s for draining- wait,” she interrupted herself, “what did you just call me?”

The disbelief in her voice was comical. He resisted the urge to smirk and continued to peer at her innocently.

“My queen?” he questioned, “I could tell you didn't like ‘princess’ and you're right, of course, you are no mere princess, you shall be my queen.”

He bowed grandly and when he turned his eyes back to her she was actually gaping, open mouthed at him.

“Unless of course you prefer ‘goddess divine,’ I was quite serious about that, I just thought it was a bit of a mouthful. Then again your actual name is four syllables long as well, so maybe there's some symmetry there…” he mused.

“Malfoy!” she interrupted sharply.

He couldn't even be upset about her use of his surname, she was so easily riled, it was fantastic.

“Yes?” he questioned as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

“No pet names, okay? At least not any that make me sound like a member of the royal family or, Godric forbid, a deity,” she practically shuddered when she said the last word.

“Why ever not?” he asked cluelessly.

“Because it's absurd! What will people say? I'm not either of those things!”

“Who cares what people say?” he snorted, “as far as I'm concerned nobody outside of this room matters.”

“I just don't need you to treat me like that. It's not necessary, I'm just me. This isn't a fairy tale.”

He refrained from reminding her that they actually were in some of the fairy tales from his childhood, or they could be, if she would just go with it. And he didn't really care about the pet names, he'd been purposefully baiting her and he'd found her incredulous reaction endlessly amusing. But now he was beginning to feel annoyed at the fact that she refused to recognize how special she was.

“Hermione,” he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, “you hold an Order of Merlin, First Class; I know your N.E.W.T. scores broke records; you are a veela’s mate; and if it's the last thing I do I will make you a Malfoy, which means that eventually you will be the Lady of not one, but two Ancient and Noble Houses. You are elite in every way, the only thing keeping you from being royalty is that magical Europe no longer has kingdoms, you are certainly as exceptional as any queen and that's how I intend to treat you. So, quit acting like you’re not special, I find I insulting.”