Chapter 1 the truth

Draco Malfoy stared out of the balcony and groaned as he leaned his head against the railing in utter exasperation.

For a few days, Draco had been experiencing sessions of unbearable pain; his every part of the body ached and complained for almost an hour. So much, that it almost became a habit. If it happens again, I will talk to mother about it, he thought.

He shooed these thoughts away only to be reminded of the same experience of pain he felt when he was tortured by his father, Lucius Malfoy.

Even if it is hard to believe, after the war, his mind was pretty much beaten into the shape and he joined the light side and helped them to fight. Looking at Hermione's painful torture and his father's insensitivity towards his own son knocked some senses in young Malfoy.

He was honestly tired of living a life of torture and fear. Just looking at the Gryffindor's

chivalry and the war toughened him up from inside and outside and he appreciates it well. When he left his father's side, he felt he could finally breathe; the feeling of freedom was beyond description. He loved his father, but the war weakened their bonding which seems irreparable, and truthfully, he is grateful that his father is in Azkaban. He ruined his life; he forced him to take the dark mark, to take the dark side.

Honestly, this pain was nothing, nothing. His body was accustomed to more pain from the torture of his father and that bloody slitted nose sadistic asswipe arsehole Voldemort whenever he tried to defy them.

Okay this is too much of truth for a Malfoy, thought Draco with disgust, much to his chagrin. Even if he wasn't voicing his thoughts, he needs to push this ooey-gooey emotion in the far corner of his mind and act like a pure Slytherin.

Draco regained his oh-so-famous-smirk and raised his head when his expression suddenly contorted in pain, his face chalky pale, his body hit the solid floor and dragged himself to his room; his screams of anguish summoned his mother, Narcissa Malfoy. She ran and opened Draco's room in panic and found him writhing in pain much to her horror.

"Oh dear! Draco! DRACO!", she shouted as she held his head to her lap and patted it soothingly and summoned some elves while she levitated him to his bed.

It has started, she thought miserably.

The last thing Draco heard was her mother shouting his name and cradling his head on her lap. No, he didn't want this, it's too embarrassing, if it reaches anyone's ears, and he would be definitely made fun of. He wanted to roll out of her lap and writhe in pain alone, he can handle it. It is too much of a hurt on his pride and on his Malfoy name. But he couldn't find the right muscles to do it, his body felt like jelly. He finally slipped into oblivion as he felt a warm and burning liquid washing down his throat.

Draco was standing on the gazebo in the garden with beautiful roses daisies and orchids and some flowers he couldn't put the name on elegantly showing themselves on the green grass, the green fresh grass was still wet with dew and the water drops reflected the sunshine beautifully. It wasn't that beautiful for Draco, he was waiting for someone which was beyond the comparisons of these flowers and this sunshine, which glittered deliciously on the garden, showering it's generosity on them. He decided to bask the sun, trying to imagine the unfamiliar warmth that he would experience from his beloved stranger simple touch. His body shuddered in excitement and curiosity which turned into desperation in a split-second when he grew impatient after every moment. Waiting suddenly felt worse than Cruciatus Curse.

After a few torturous minutes, which felt like eternity, he felt a tap on his shoulder. A fragrance of the flowers of Aurantium Amara with a soft woody trail, illuminated by blackcurrant, which further enhanced the soft woody base and a hint of Neroli seeked its way to his nose and he groaned, but oddly in delight. It was citrusy and he enveloped in its deliciousness.

He turned around and found the most beautiful sight in front of him. The flowers and the grass seemed to bow their head down in devotion, as if they realized they had been washed in blessing by the pure form of beauty then and there before them. The sunshine seemed bleak as she radiated in her own way. She was her sun, and he worshipped her. She was his. He desired her.

What vexed him to no end was her face or any of her features, or to be more exact her whole body, he couldn't see it, but he could feel her every emotion and expression on her face.

It was love, adoration on her expression.

Passion and possession in her emotions.

And to his immense pleasure, longing. For him.

She held out her hand and he took it in a heartbeat, afraid his beloved might vanish. She led him towards the garden and sat down. She patted on her lap and he knew what she wanted. He didn't feel any embarrassment as he would normally feel if anyone displays their affection. On the contrary, his body ached for his beloved's contact. He rested his head on her for few minutes lap as her fingers raked through his soft hair, soothingly massaging his scalp and Draco purred in delight. Her delightful chuckle ringed through his ears like tinkling bells.

She neared her face towards his, her soft hair brushing his face, and planted a soft peck on his forehead, eyelids, temples and nose and finally traveled to his lips. Draco got up so that she didn't have to strain her neck and laid her down on the soft, inviting grass. He climbed on the top of her petite body, and adjusted himself so he seemed weightless. He looked at her but saw nothing but only felt where her lips were and neared his mouth towards her, his body painfully aroused as he felt her body brushing on him. His lips were inches away from her….

Draco felt the consciousness stirring and he felt rage coursing through his body. It wasn't his anger he could tell, but it was somehow his. He was angry, he was close to kissing her and some worthless maggot woke him up from his beautiful dream.

"Draco, wake up.", a familiar silky voice shake him to consciousness and he opened his eyes and sat down on his bed just to glare at his godfather.

Severus and Narcissa looked at him as if he turned into a snake.

"Severus, move, I wish to have a word with him.", Narcissa said.

Snape moved from the corner of the bed and Narcissa sat on the corner of his bed and took Malfoy's hand.

"What do you wish to talk about, Mother?", Draco asked in confusion, his anger gone and Narcissa sighed in relief.

"I wish to tell you the truth, my son, do consider it calmly.", she paused gauging his reaction. He nodded her to continue, what could be worse than Voldemort resurrecting? He suppressed his shudder and pushed these vicious thoughts out of his mind as he concentrated on her mother who was having some internal fight.

"Mother, do tell me what is happening. I am able to handle it well, and you know I have handled myself all the time during the war – both winced at the unwelcome memory – so speak the truth, as your son demands.", he ended the last four words with no-nonsense attitude. The finality of the words he seems to inherit from his father almost felt nostalgic to Narcissa. Almost.

Naricissa took a deep breath. It seems unfair to keep this from her child; he deserves to know the truth.

"You are a Veela Draco.", she paused, letting her words sink in the young Malfoy.

So what do you think? Please review... I promise to get my further chapters interesting...