AN: This will be my second attempt at a Veela fic. I've read my fair share of them, so I know the ins and outs of all the clichés etc. Although à mon avis, some of those clichés are beneficial to a fic. Anyway.

Non HBP reliant, I don't own anything nor am I making any money out of doing this. All that jazz. Enjoy!

About A Boy And His Veela: Chapter One - Discoveries

June 4th

The vast and beautiful grounds of Malfoy Manor glowed gold underneath the setting sun. As the light gradually disappeared, however, the heat in the air remained, leaving the promise of a sticky and uncomfortable night.

Draco Malfoy leaned his hands against the windowsill, watching as the gardens he could see from his bedroom window adapted a spectacular shade of deep pink under the rays of the sun.

He stayed there, quiet and still, until the entire world slowly and surely dissolved into black. Only then did he move from his position, crossing the considerable width of the room and taking a seat on the magnificent bed.

He folded his arms and frowned absently at the third-century Persian rug beneath his feet, thinking. He had arrived home a few days ago. As expected, his father was not present, being locked up in Azkaban thanks to the events that had happened at the Ministry of Magic a week or so before school had ended. His mother had greeted him in the parlour, and he had found himself feeling startled at the change in her. Her movements, her aura, had all seemed so smooth and free.

Since then, he had seen her at mealtimes, where she would yet again exude an air about her that had never been present before. It was puzzling, to say the least, and Draco wanted badly to know what had happened. However, he had been raised to be the very epitome of patience and manners, and so waited for his mother to make the first move.

A soft pop sounded, announcing the arrival of his mother's personal house elf, Delia. The little elf bowed low in front of him.

"Begging your pardon, young master, for the intrusion." She squeaked nervously. "But my mistress is wishing to speak with you at once."

Finally. Draco stood up from the bed, and nodded to Delia. "Thank you. Tell her I am on my way."

"At once, young master!" the little elf cried, and she disappeared again with another soft pop.

Draco hurried to the other side of his bedroom, where a full length, golden-framed mirror stood against the wall. He checked his reflection quickly, making sure his hair and clothing was suitably presentable. All being in order, he headed for the door, closing it securely behind him, and then set out for his mother's rooms.

He found Narcissa in her study, a beautiful room that was filled with antique bookshelves, which were in turn lined with row upon row of dusty books. A magnificently carved desk from Victorian times was proudly positioned to the far right of the room, and in the centre was an enormous fireplace. Narcissa was waiting for him on one of the plush, Slytherin-green sofas that circled the fireplace.

He tapped the side of the doorframe to announce his presence. "Mother?"

"Draco." She smiled at him. "You're prompt. Come, sit with me."

Obediently, he crossed the threshold and took a seat on a sofa opposite hers.

"You're probably wondering what's been going on." She said softly.

Draco inclined his head.

"I don't know where to begin." She mused, her delicate hands fiddling with the pale satin of her gown.

Draco was silent for a moment, considering this. "The beginning, perhaps?" he suggested.

"Yes, yes, of course." She smiled at him again, leaving him feeling stunned at how beautiful she was when she smiled. He hadn't seen her smile in many years.

"Well, I suppose I should tell you about the situation with your father, first of all." She sighed, releasing the material in between her fingers and folding her hands neatly in her lap. "You are of course aware that certain events a few weeks ago led him to be arrested and taken to Azkaban."

"Yes."

"I, for one, hope he rots there forever."

Draco's mouth fell open in surprise and shock. Realising how unseemly he must look, he closed it again, staring incredulously at his mother.

"Oh, my dragon." She said sadly. "I have so much to tell you." She took a deep breath. "Years ago, when I turned sixteen, I noticed something different in the way males behaved towards me."

"I had always been popular amongst my year-mates, but suddenly I was receiving propositions left and right from potential suitors." She looked at him seriously. "My parents wanted me to marry into a good family, and a lot of the suitor's families were not ideal. Lucius Malfoy, however, was rather taken with me, and by my seventh year at school he had decided it was me he wanted to marry and to have his heir."

"Naturally, my parents were thrilled. The Malfoy family is the most prestigious and powerful in all of Europe." She looked sad, full of old memories. "I begged them to change their minds, but I had no power over them, especially my father. After I graduated from school, the wedding was arranged. I was barely eighteen years old when we were married."

"Eighteen?" Draco echoed, shocked. He had always known his parents marriage had been arranged, and that his mother had been young when it took place, but he had never speculated that she had been that young.

"Yes." She nodded. "Your father was twenty years old. Our marriage caused an enormous celebration all over Europe. He was the primary heir of the Malfoy line, and so needed to provide an heir of his own. Marrying me was the first step, one that many people were concerned he would never take."

"So you have never actually…loved Father?" Draco asked, feeling shaken to the core.

Narcissa shook her head. "No. I despise the man."

"I see." He supposed it wasn't really that surprising – his parents had never seemed to have an ideal relationship. He thought that was just to keep up appearances. Evidently not.

"So…why are you telling me all this?"

"Patience, my dragon." She smiled. "I haven't even begun to tell you everything yet."

What else could there be? Draco wondered, as his mother resumed her story once more.

"So as it was, I found myself eighteen years old and married to a man I did not love. The future seemed bleak to me. I hated and resented my husband. I hated it when he touched me. I did not want to be the mother of any child of his."

Draco tried not to feel too offended as she continued. "When I did consent to lay with him, we ran into difficulties. I could not conceive a child, for reasons I didn't find out until much later. He was…displeased with me. He hit me. He was furious at himself for choosing me when I couldn't provide him with an heir."

"Over time, I realised that I did want a child, however much I hated who its father would be. I reasoned that maybe I could raise the child with only a minimum of his influence."

"After I had put myself into that mindset, miraculously, I found out I was pregnant, in the autumn of the year where I turned twenty. Lucius ceased hitting me at last, for I had finally done something correctly."

Draco winced at this wording.

"About sixteen years ago, you were born. And you were perfect, everything I had wanted and hoped for. For the first few years of your life he allowed me to feed you, change you, teach you. I didn't ask for his help. I was happy, because I had you."

Her beautiful features seemed to darken suddenly. "When you were around five years old, however, he told me that he would now be taking over your upbringing. I resisted, knowing he would mould you to become just like him. He began hitting me, not relenting until I gave in."

She smiled at him through the tears that had formed in her large blue eyes. "I know I have probably seemed completely different to you since you got home, but that is because he is not here, and I am finally able to do and say as I see fit. I don't have to have that cold exterior he wanted me to have around you. I love you, my Dragon, and I'm so sorry I was not the mother I wanted to be while you were growing up."

Draco stared at her, thoroughly confused. This explained everything, everything, about his mother's behaviour towards him growing up. He remembered suddenly the lies Lucius had told him, about his mother not really caring for him. His grey eyes darkened now, fury clear on his face.

"I plan to divorce him by summer's end." Narcissa said quietly.

Startled, Draco's mouth fell open again. "Divorce him?"

"Divorce him." She confirmed. "I cannot stand for you to enter this stage in your life and for me to still be tied down to that excuse for a man."

"Alright." Draco's breathing was shallow, his brain desperately trying to grasp the situation he was in now. "So Father is imprisoned and still an avid supporter of the Dark Lord, and you are divorcing him and…what?"

"I refuse to bow to anyone anymore." She said, her voice strong, her head held high. "I was never a Death Eater myself. Lucius knew enough not to force me into that. I do believe in some of the Dark Lord's philosophies, however I believe he has taken things too far. I think some kind of mutual understanding can be reached between wizards and muggles. Once the divorce is final I intend to go to Albus Dumbledore and declare myself as a supporter of the Light. I want no part in that madman's doings."

Draco stared at his mother, so proud and beautiful on the sofa opposite him. It was disconcerting to have grown up with her so silent and cold in the background, and to see her now filled with such fire and conviction.

His father had raised him to believe in the Dark Lord's cause. When he was younger he had believed devotedly. As he got older, however, it had become harder and harder to see the reasoning behind Lucius' beliefs. It had been made doubly so last Christmas holidays, when Lucius had taken Draco to meet the Dark Lord. Draco still remembered the shock he'd felt when he saw his father, always superior and composed, on his knees, kissing the dirt-ridden hem of the Dark Lord's robes. He had been filled with doubt and desperation ever since, not wanting the future set out for him anymore but not knowing how to get out of it.

Narcissa was regarding him seriously now. "Draco, I need to know now, before I tell you anything else – will you follow your father or me in the upcoming war?"

Draco took deep, calming breaths. Here it was. An out, an escape from the future he had discovered he didn't want anymore.

He straightened up on his seat, lifted his chin proudly. "I will be proud to follow you, Mother." He stated.

Narcissa shot up from her seat over to his before he could barely even blink. Next second, she was hugging him tightly.

"Oh, my Dragon." She said, her voice thick with emotion. "I am so happy to hear you say that."

Startled, Draco awkwardly returned the hug. No one had ever really hugged him before, except for Pansy, sometimes. This was different though; this was a hug from his mother.

She pulled away and returned to her seat, straightening her gown as she sat.

"So is that all you wanted to tell me?" Draco asked. "That you're divorcing Father and switching sides?"

Narcissa smiled a little ruefully. "No, that's not quite all." She said gently. "Why don't I order us some tea?"

Bewildered, Draco inclined his head nonetheless, and Narcissa summoned Delia to procure tea for them. Once the silver tray was resting on the table between them and the house elf had disappeared once more with a pop, Narcissa picked up her cup and handed Draco one as well. She took a dainty sip and then looked at him seriously.

"You know, of course, the genealogy of both sides of your family." It was a statement, not a question, and it was true – Draco had studied his ancestry from a young age. "Pure-blooded wizards on both sides."

Draco nodded, taking a sip from his own tea. "Right."

"The first thing I must tell you is that that is not correct."

Draco's eyes bugged out, and he very nearly choked on the mouthful of tea he had been in the process of swallowing. "Not correct?" he spluttered, hastily setting the cup back down. "How could it not be correct?"

"My great-grandfather," Narcissa replied, looking grave, "Orion Black, had an affair with a full-blooded Veela called Virgia. Their son Plutos Black, my grandfather, was a half-blooded veela."

Draco could only stare at her. "So your father…Corvus Black…has Veela blood?"

"Correct." Narcissa nodded.

"But that's not possible!" Draco protested. "I've met him, he's not good looking at all! His hair is black, not blonde!"

"Yes, but there's more to it than that." She smiled. "The Veela gene is recessive, it's known to skip generations. Sometimes it manifests itself in ways that are not immediately assumed to be related to Veela. My father has always had unquestionable power over others, a charisma that no one his age has. It's his Veela genes."

"My parents and my sisters all have black hair and dark eyes. As does did my uncle and aunt, and my cousins did too. My grandfather, though, had blonde hair and blue eyes. The gene was dominant in him."

"Your grandfather, so my…great-grandfather?" Draco said.

"Correct." Narcissa nodded again. "Plutos Black was a half-Veela. That gene was recessive with his sons. It became dominant in me rather than my sisters."

Draco tried to calculate. "Which makes you…"

"A quarter-blooded Veela." Narcissa supplied. "It's not enough that I have a life-mate, or that I grow a beak when I'm angry, or even have an allure, as full-blooded Veelas do. I only have the physical traits, appearance wise, and I have slightly more magical power than my sisters."

She sighed. "My research told me why, at first, I could not conceive with Lucius. I have enough Veela blood that the idea of reproducing with someone I do not love caused my body to…stop working, as it were. It was only when I decided I did actually want a child, and felt love for the idea of that child, that my body began working again, and I was able to conceive."

"So…is that what you wanted to tell me, that I have Veela blood?"

She looked hesitant, as though there was more to the story. "Yes…"

"So I'm an eighth Veela?" he prompted her.

She absently straightened the skirt of her gown, averting her eyes from him. "Not exactly, no." she said finally.

"But how? If you're a quarter-blooded Veela, that would make me an eighth Veela." Draco reasoned.

She cleared her throat delicately. "It would…if that was the only source of your Veela blood."

Draco stared at her, not sure he had heard her correctly. "What?"

"I did a little research into the Malfoy family tree." She said quietly. "Your great-grandfather, Alistair Malfoy, also had an affair with a full-blooded Veela, called Carina. Their son Abraxas, your grandfather, was a half-veela. Thus, Lucius has a dominant Veela gene as well. He's a quarter-blooded Veela, like me."

Draco could still only stare at her. "That's…that's impossible…" he protested.

"I wanted to try and help you see the error of your father's ways, because he would act terribly towards you if he knew." She said gently. "Because both of us have a dominant Veela gene, you take Veela blood from both sides of your family. You are actually a half-blooded Veela, my Dragon."

"I'm a…I'm a Veela?" Draco whispered, still staring incredulously at his mother. "A half-blooded Veela?"

"Yes." She said. "I assume you've learnt about them at school?"

"Not really," he breathed, his voice slightly shaky. "I know a little about them though."

"Well, what do you know of them?"

"They're the most beautiful creatures on earth." Draco said, eyes glazed. "They have soul mates, individuals who are destined for them. Once bonded with that person, they'll be with that person forever."

"Yes." She said. "Veela are creatures of love and beauty. They are complete once they are with their mate."

"Mother…" Draco said, sounding extremely shaken, "…if I'm a half-blooded Veela and not a full-blooded Veela, that means I won't have a mate, doesn't it?"

Narcissa smiled gently. "Because you are a half-blood Veela and the gene is dominant in you from myself and Lucius, yes, you will have a mate."

Draco shook his head. "No." he said, as though saying so would make it all untrue. "No, that can't be."

"You must try to see it as a positive thing, my Dragon." She soothed, moving so she was sitting beside him on his sofa. She rubbed his back lovingly. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask them."

"Will anything in particular happen to me?" Draco asked desperately. "Will I sprout wings suddenly, or if someone insults me, will I grow a beak or something unseemly like that?"

"No, no." she chuckled gently. "Those traits are particular to full-blooded Veela. You are still half-wizard, remember."

"Well, will anything happen to me?"

"Traditionally, when Veela come of age, they go through a process that is referred to as coming into their inheritance." Narcissa said.

Draco brightened slightly at this. "You mean inheritance like money?"

She frowned good-naturedly at him. "No, not money. Material possessions are unimportant to Veela." She lectured. "I mean you will properly inherit the Veela traits that are in your genes. They're triggered by you turning sixteen years old."

"Sixteen?" he exclaimed, leaping up and away from her. "But I turn sixteen tomorrow!"

She absently tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Yes, my Dragon." She said patiently. "You will come into your inheritance tomorrow. That's why I chose to tell you this tonight, so you were properly aware of who you are and what will be happening to you."

"So this inheritance, then." Draco said desperately, "What exactly are the Veela traits you mentioned?"

Narcissa began ticking them off on her hand. "A change in appearance, first of all. You're likely to become even more attractive and good looking."

Draco scoffed. As if that's even possible for me.

"You will probably experience an increase in your magical power and control. You may also gain a charm unique to Veela called an allure, although it's never entirely certain if you will have it or, if you do, how powerful it will be."

"Anything else?" Draco asked.

"Your general intelligence and academic abilities will increase." Narcissa answered. "Veela may be beautiful, but they are also extremely intelligent when they wish to be."

"I see." Draco sat back down beside his mother, trying to take it all in. "And…what about my…mate?" He cleared his throat. The word felt unnatural to say.

"What about them, Dragon?"

"Will it be just…just a random person off the street?" Draco voiced his fear. "Will it be a Mudblood, or a…"

"Draco!" Narcissa said suddenly, sharply. He looked at her in confusion.

"Don't say that word in front of me." She said, a little less sharply. "It's derogatory. Such language should never be heard from the mouth of a Veela."

Draco's mouth worked noiselessly. "But…" he protested.

"No." she said firmly. "You told me you would follow me, and that means obeying my rules. That word should only be used by the blinded, foolish followers of that madman. It has no place for supporters of the Light."

This was undoubtedly true, and Draco suspected his use of the word had only come from his questionable upbringing with his father. He struggled with himself for a moment, and then rephrased the question.

"Will it be a…muggleborn?" he managed.

She nodded approvingly at him. "Good. And perhaps, it could be. Your mate will be the person who matches you mind, body and soul. Once you know who it is, issues such as heritage just won't be issues anymore."

"Well, it would still be easier if she was a pureblood Slytherin." Draco said, and then gasped at the thought. "Merlin, does that mean it's Pansy?"

"No." she assured him. "It may not even be a female."

"You mean my mate, the person who I'm going to be with forever, might be a male?" Draco asked weakly.

She nodded. "Love knows no gender, my Dragon, especially Veela love. Your mate will be your perfect match in every way. Whether they are male or female doesn't matter."

"But how will I know who it is?" he asked.

"There is no specific sign or thing to watch out for." She answered. "Generally, in the past, Veela's mates have been people they knew previous to their inheritance. Many accounts of Veela say that when they saw their mate, they just knew. Some said it took time to realise. Some didn't even realise at all, until they nearly drove themselves crazy thinking about the person."

"I won't die if my mate rejects me, will I?" Draco asked, disturbed by this sudden thought.

"No." Narcissa looked troubled. "Not in the traditional sense. Your body will continue to live, but your mind, and your soul…that is a whole other story."

"I don't understand."

"I'd rather you find out for yourself." She glanced to the clock that was patiently ticking away the minutes above the fireplace. "Come, it's evening. We should go have dinner. If you wish, afterwards, I'll show you the books I found the truth in, and we'll find some books about Veela for you to read."

She stood, and Draco did as well. She surveyed him for a moment.

"Ne fronce pas les sourcils." She said softly, reaching out to smooth his hair. "Being a Veela is an extremely wonderful thing, my Dragon. It will all turn out fine, you'll see."

Draco allowed himself a moment to look, really look, at his mother. She brought to mind the image of an ice queen, beautiful and powerful. Intelligence and fire shone in her blue eyes, and love for him. She would help him through it, of course she would.

"I know, Mother." He said, smiling at her as best as he could.

He allowed her to take his hand, and she led him from the study.

In just a few hours, Draco Malfoy would come into his inheritance.

TBC

AN: The French phrase Narcissa says means 'Don't frown.'

Confused about the ancestry/bloodlines? Sorry lol. I'll try and have it more clearly explained later, when Narcissa shows Draco the family trees. Until then, please review and let me know what you thought of the story!

Until next time,

bleedingxheart