A/N: Hey, y'all! (I cannot believe I just wrote y'all). I have a lot of ideas for this story, but I don't know if it's interesting at all. Here's the basis: Draco is a Veela, flat out. He doesn't know it, but will soon, never fear! Hermione is, of course, his mate. Now, that's happened in a multitude of stories, but I'm hoping mine will be somewhat original. No instant love! Hermione isn't going to make this easier. It'll probably go on a day-to-day format, so I posted the first two days, about two thousand or so words, for you to see if you like it. If I should continue: review! If I shouldn't: review anyway and tell me why it sucks! I need a beta, someone who is willing to motivate me to write (if I shall continue) and to discuss characters and their development and actions.



3:31 AM

Day after day, she was there, and so was he. Never together, they occupied the same space every night, one oblivious and one painfully aware of his actions. He didn't know why he came back without pause, but he knew all too well that he couldn't resist the urge to gaze at her.

She was beautiful, he thought, though he'd never seen her body awash with the light of day. No, he only glimpsed her in half-dark, the silhouette of her figure outlined by stark moonlight – that is, if he was lucky. More often than not, he settled for watching her look at the few stars that battled their way through the London smog as if they held the answers of the universe, her beauty hidden by a complex overlay of shadows and darkness. During those times, his imagination would roam, but his dreams always held the tint of unreality – how he wished to gaze at her in full light. He didn't know her hair color, her eye color, her height, or her build; he only saw the bent outline as she rested her head in her palm.

He knew it was wrong to watch her, wrong to follow her into the darkened park each night. It was pedophilic and disgusting behavior, especially for someone of his standing. But, he couldn't resist. It was hard to explain, but there was a tangible draw between them, a longing he couldn't deny, as million of steel ropes connected him to her. He would've thought he was cursed, but hundreds of Healers had examined him and proclaimed him safe. He could only assume his obsession was the work of a master wizard. After all, one must be supremely powerful to tie his mind constantly to an obscure, mysterious Muggle woman.

Still, like clockwork, he found himself walking into the park at exactly midnight each night. He often toyed with the idea of going closer, but he always shot that down. Any sane woman would be frightened by a strange man approaching them in the middle of the night at midnight, especially as he never bothered to groom himself before setting out.

He both loved and hated this routine that had consumed his life for nearly a year, ever since his twenty-second birthday. When he was around her, he felt, as clichéd as it sounded, complete. The millions of worries and stress that occupied the architect's mind was wiped away when he saw her perfection. As a young man, name sullied by the war, it had been difficult to find work, so he had resorted to starting his own company. Now, Sleeping Dragon was an international hit – but he was barely managing to stay sane, so tense and distracted as he was during the day. The only way to calm his troubled mind was to watch her, but that cut back on precious sleep hours. It was a vicious cycle, but attempts to break it were futile; missing his ritual only equaled a completely unproductive next day, as well as intensified feeling. Lately, he'd even noticed emotions that weren't his occupying his body. He could only assume they came from her.

In front of him, perched on a cool metal bench, the mysterious woman sighed, barely audibly but his ears still caught it, and stood up. The thought of staying in the trees, if only to see her face, crossed his mind but he shot it down. It was too dangerous. How was he to explain to a Muggle why he was lurking in the trees at nearly one o'clock?

Draco Malfoy sighed and turned, making his way out of the small park. It was hopeless and a waste of time, but he couldn't help but shoot a glance behind him as he exited. The woman was nowhere to be seen which, he supposed, was a good thing. The pull had been getting worse lately, and he wasn't sure if he could contain himself any longer.



Draco stumbled into his office the next morning, glad he'd thought to install a private Floo directly in the small room. He felt like shit, and wasn't up to walking though the lobby and letting everyone see him like that.

He passed a hand over his face, before withdrawing his wand. Though it took considerable effort to maintain a glamour, he figured he could hold it up for as long as it took to greet everyone before retiring to his office. He only had paperwork to do that day, thankfully, so he wouldn't have to keep it on all day. Yesterday he'd had to work with his architecture team to help design the French Ministry building, but today he was confident he had no socializing to do.

Just as he was casting the glamour, a brisk knock came from the door. He straightened, checked himself in a small mirror that was concealed on the inside of one drawer, slid the mirror/drawer closed and said, voice dry, "Come in."

A very pretty brunette woman walked in. Her hair was up in a tight bun and she was the very epitome of professionalism; only he knew how passionate and fun she could be. She was his assistant, and also happened to be his best friend. She'd wormed her way into his heart (though he hated clichés with a burning passion – though that expression was quite overused as well – he had to admit it applied) during sixth year while he'd been abandoned and betrayed by all he thought liked him. He remembered once incident after his first official Death Eater meeting, when he'd been forced to torture him and he was throwing up in the bathroom, recalling the horrible feeling as he leveled his wand on a defenseless Muggle, hearing the Dark Lord's laughter in his ears and the Muggle's shrieks and screams. She'd come up behind him and silently wrapped him in his arms, holding him even as he flinched and tried to hex her.

"Shush," she'd whispered in his ear, her hot breath tickling his neck. "Don't struggle. I've got you."

"Go away." A sharp protest, cutting through the still air.

"I'm not leaving you, Draco, especially not now."

A long pause, a drawn-out silence, "Why?"

"Because everyone needs someone to care for them; everyone needs someone who fights for them."

A quick reply, whispered into the air: "Who's fighting for you, then?"

A shy smile, hesitant words, "I was rather hoping you would."

Draco felt himself hide a smile, as he had so many years before. He instead returned to the matter at hand, banishing melancholy thoughts of his rubbish childhood to the back of his brain. Now was not the time to dwell in useless thoughts of the past. "Many meetings today, Daphne?"

Daphne Greengrass grimaced, sinking into the chair in front of his desk. She anxiously straightened her skirt, shooting at the glance at the open office door. "I swear you do this to torture me, Draco."

He cut his eyes at her, silently scolding her for being so informal in front of his employees. This was a useless reprimand, as the select people who were chosen to work at Sleeping Dragon Architecture Firm knew perfectly well of the friendship that existed between the two. She'd helped him get his company up and running, and had accompanied him at all his interviews for prospective employees. Many had gossiped about the possibility of a romantic relationship between the pair. However, a few stern talks from Draco had banished at least the talk, if not the thoughts. He would never entertain the thought of a relationship between him and Daphne, and he knew neither would she.

"That is, as you know, a complete falsehood," he replied, sinking back in his comfortable leather chair. Ahh, he was tired. Perhaps he should leave the paperwork and take a day off – as if. That thought was ludicrous; he never took time off. "You may always quit. I can find another to replace you in a second."

"That's a lie," a passing man called out. Draco looked up glaring at the offender, only to see the grinning face of Theodore Nott, his other friend, staring at him from outside. "You'd sooner shave your head than fire Daph. And, if you did, it'd take you bloody ages to replace her."

Snickers accompanied this from the offices that lined the hallway outside, and Draco gave Theo his best glare. "Please stop fueling rumors, Nott – though, I'm sure my employees know how much gossip displeases me, and what I'm prone to do when people displease me."

Theo was unfazed by his friend's loosely veiled threat, but Draco was satisfied as the whispers stopped. His fifteen high-level staff members knew how lucky they were to work for him and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize their position. (There were a handful of those who did mindless jobs, like sending memos and filling up coffee. But they were displaceable and Draco didn't bother to learn their names). "What, fire the lot of them?"

"Perhaps, Nott. Now, why have you decided to sully my office with your presence?"

Daphne giggled. "Stop it, Draco. Theo has a legitimate reason, doesn't he?"

"Yes, pray tell, Theo," Draco said drily, massaging his temples. He was exhausted, and his friends' banter was too much for him.

"I stopped by with a message from…somebody you haven't seen in a very long time," Theo said, suddenly serious. He glanced outside at what was undoubtedly fifteen eavesdropping workers and mouthed, "Mother."

Mother? Theo's mother was dead, murdered by her husband for refusing to take the Dark Mark. How could she be contacting Theo? Draco raised an eyebrow, and Theo bit his lip. He took a pad of brightly colored paper squares out of his jacket pocket and a quill-like object without the feathers that he clicked and scribbled with. He tore off the paper, setting it on Draco's desk after crossing the room in two long strides.

Draco took the orange square with disgust, noting how it resisted being pulled up. He ran a finger over his desk where it had laid, frowning as something sticky got on his clean hands. "What in Merlin's name is this?" he questioned, turning his attention to the message. "And that object you used to write—" his voice trailed off, eyes widening as he read the four words on the note.

"A Post-It Note, Draco, they're quite useful," Daphne said hurriedly, giving Theo a pointed look. The two began to banter once more, but he hardly heard them. He stared at the paper, heart pounding audibly in his chest.

I must control myself! Draco thought to himself sternly. He crumpled the note in his palm, trying desperately to re-erect his shields. He was failing miserably; a look at his friends confirmed that. Just as he was about to declare it a lost cause and go home, he felt...something.

He felt calm.

It was strange, as he was the furthest from calm. He stared suspiciously at Theo, noting how his hand was on his wand. A calming charm, then? He could take care of his bloody self!

Short, I know, but it IS a teaser, after all. What do you think? Awful?