Disclaimer: characters, (fictional) places, creatures, little tidbits that are obviously not ours belong to the great JKR. (My co-author insists on writing JK ‘the Great’ Rowling and that Hermione and Draco don’t belong to us, they belong to each other – but that’s too sappy, don’t you think?)
Draco Malfoy raised his teacup to his lips and stared back at his father, Lucius. They were seating by a small round table in the parlour of their summer home in Kent. His mother, Narcissa, with her long blonde hair and grey eyes, sat beside him, holding his hand.
Draco was silent for a moment. At eleven years old, he had just received news about who he really was. But what it meant exactly, he wasn’t sure.
“What exactly are Veelas?” Draco asked quietly as he placed his teacup back onto the saucer.
“Pure Veelas are beautiful creatures who attract people of the opposite gender with a certain kind of charm that can only be explained as magical,” Lucius began to explain. “But when angered, they reveal their true selves, who happen to be scary creatures, with scales and a beak.”
“So you’re saying I’ll have scales and a beak when I become angry?” Draco asked. “I think that’s bloody brilliant!”
“No dear,” Narcissa said as she brushed a strand of Draco’s fine hair behind his ear. “You’re only part Veela. Your father is part Veela. But I’m not.”
“Ah well, I didn’t think I could ever look ugly anyway,” he said with a smirk. “So what exactly does being part Veela mean? Do I get superpowers and magical charms?”
Lucius suppressed his laugh. “Magical charms, to an extent, yes. But superpowers… Not so much. But for now, all you need to know is that Veelas are special creatures, whether in pure or part, and when they fall in love it’ll be forever. And that’s something nice to have, don’t you think?”
Draco frowned. “Not particularly.”
Once again, Lucius tried to keep himself from laughing out loud. Draco reminded him of himself when he was much younger. “One day we’ll explain this to you in detail. But for now, drink your tea. It’s getting cold.”
Somewhere in the southwest of London, in a middle-sized first floor room of a middle-sized flat along Courtfield Close, a little girl with bushy brown hair and two rather large front teeth sat in front of the television watching a film on cable.
A tear rolled down her cheek which she quickly brushed away with the back of her hand. “I want a Mr Darcy of my own!” Hermione Granger sobbed as the closing credits began to appear on screen.
She heard a knock on her bedroom door, so she turned off the television as she stood up from the beanbag and opened the door for her mother.
Mrs Granger, who looked strikingly much like an older version of Hermione, stepped into the room, one hand on her hip. “So what have you been watching? You’re all red-eyed again.”
“Mum, do you think I’d ever find my own Mr Darcy?” Hermione asked as she plopped onto her bed.
“Hmmm… So, Pride and Prejudice, huh?” her mother asked.
“Yes, and now, I want my own Mr Darcy.”
“You know,” her mother said as she sat beside Hermione on the bed. “When I was younger, I used to write down the characteristics I liked in Mr Darcy and wished my own husband would be just like that.”
“And what happened?”
“I met your father.”
“Is Dad like Mr Darcy?” asked Hermione.
“Not exactly,” Hermione’s mother said with a rueful smile. “But close enough. He had everything I wrote down on that small piece of paper.”
Hermione got off the bed and reached into her bedside drawer, brandishing a small notebook and a felt-tipped pen. “I’m going to do that then.”
“Do what, honey?”
“Write down my own Mr Darcy, so that someday, I shall have it, too. Or someone close enough, at least.”
Mrs Granger read what Hermione had written down from over her daughter’s shoulder.
My very own Mr Darcy should be:
…and will only love me. No one else.
Authors’ Notes: Skye and I would just like to point out that due to our rather different writing styles (plus the many arguments during the making of this chapter); we will be writing the following chapters in a first person point of view. Skye (who is just as clever and pretty – as she put it; and even threw a coin at me for emphasis – as Hermione. And just as big a know-it-all as our darling muggle-born witch) will be writing Hermione’s POV whilst I (dearest darling gorgeous Sloane) will be writing Draco’s POV (seeing as I’m a bit of an obnoxious but lovely person such as him). Review if you please. –Sloane