Chapter 8 : When Will the Hurting Stop?
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We arrived in the Astronomy Tower earlier than scheduled. Zabini thought it might put us in the Golden Trio’s good graces if we arrived early and not just on time. I agreed to this as I was trying to get away from a second-year Hufflepuff who had begun stalking me ever since I delivered a letter to her from Professor Sprout yesterday afternoon (apparently, she thinks I’m rather fit). I sat on a chair furthest from the door with my feet propped up over another chair next to me, reading a book my father gave me this morning called Understanding Veelas. Zabini was by the door playing with his wand, making confetti and different coloured sparks fly out of it, Pucey was staring out a window, eagerly watching the Ravenclaws train for this week’s match against us (though I see no point, they obviously don’t stand a chance), Crabbe was stuffing his face with pasties he nicked from the kitchens and Goyle was busy vandalising the desk in front of him.
“This book is useless,” I said after a while, frowning at it. I was on the second chapter, reading up on how Veelas can feel the emotions of his/her mate, especially if the emotion is incredibly strong. Pfft. As if I didn’t know that already, I was in sheer desperadoes when Snape told Granger off in Potions a month ago. “I already know all these crap.”
“Yeah? Did you look up how not to feel like being attacked every time Granger touches the ugly Weasel?” Pucey asked, looking up from the window.
“It doesn’t say anything about that in this chapter,” I said. I went back to the start of the book, into the table of contents and skimmed through it.
Chapter One: An Introduction to Veelas
Chapter One-and-a-half: Distinguishing Male and Female Veela Properties
Chapter Two: Mate Finding
Presupposition of a Healthy Veela-Mate Relationship
Chapter Three: Veelas and their Mates, A Connection
Chapter Four: Emotional Connection
Chapter Five: Mental Connection
Chapter Six: Veelas in Agony
Chapter Seven: Unity
Chapter Eight: Veela Wedding Rituals
Presupposition of Doom(I saw this part underlined in red ink thrice, a message Father wanted to convey, probably)
Chapter Nine: Winning Your Heart’s Desire
Chapter Ten: If All Else Fails
Chapter Ten-and-one-third: Surviving the Death of a Mate
Chapter Ten-and-two-thirds: Surviving Rejection
Veelas: Past, Present and Future
Chapter Eleven: Famous Veelas Around the World
Chapter Twelve: The Veela Gene and How It’s Passed On
Chapter Thirteen: Veela Geneology
It all looked sketchy to me, but I decided to skim through the sixth chapter anyway. Wouldn’t hurt to try.
Chapter Six: Veelas in Agony
I’m in agony! In agony, I tell you! Where the hell is that son of a bitch?
- Fuddidilus Crow, aged 18 (1907)
Veelas, upon finding their mates, often find themselves in great agony with symptoms of a painful quickening pace of the heart, shaking of the entire body and unsteady thinking. This usually attributes itself to self-preservation (serving as a warning signal that the mate may be in close contact with an untrustworthy person) and a need to protect his/her mate. If such is the case, the feeling would last for only a temporary fraction of a minute to alert the Veela and save the mate. It also happens when the Veela is feeling threatened of its security to belong with his/her mate. When a person whom the Veela suspects is in a relationship with his/her mate touches the mate in a way the Veela deems more than acceptable, the nervous system is completely hijacked by the feeling of betrayal and jealousy, that the Veela can’t help but feel the emotional attack. For non-Veelas, this feeling is closely resembled to that of a heart failure. And in some cases, the feeling becomes too extreme that the Veela is sent directly to a hospital.
Oh, well that’s assuring, I thought to myself sarcastically. “So apparently, the cause of these stupid spasms I’m having is my fear of losing Granger to Weasley,” I said out loud.
Zabini arched an eyebrow at me. “Weasley? You’re afraid of that red-haired, poverty-stricken git?”
“He does have an advantage over me,” I said sourly. “Aren’t they dating?”
“Isn’t the blood-traitor going out with the annoying Brown girl?” asked Crabbe (he finally ran out of pasties to eat). “I saw them in Hogsmeade last week sharing a sundae. Too poor to even buy another one for the girl,” he snickered.
“Oh, really? I didn’t know that,” I said nonchalantly.
“He’s also too poor to buy himself a new pair of socks. Have you seen the mouldy grey ones he was wearing today? Disgusting,” Zabini said, scrunching up his face in distaste, as if remembering the socks Weasley wore.
They soon entered into a game of “Weasley’s Too Poor For” and I idly went back to my book.
Several incidents have occurred, though one in particular is so extreme, that it continually haunts Hans Ulrich of Germany, when
Blah, blah, blah, I don’t really care for instances. I’ve had plenty enough of them to deal with at present. I skipped through several pages, passing by photos of exquisite-looking Veelas in hospital wards or in chairs, looking weary. Finally, I stopped at the end of the chapter and read the last few lines.
Many mistakes have occurred over the centuries, and many Veelas have suffered a great deal because of it. It would be wise for a Veela to check out certain friends of his/her mate that can be a cause for Veela Agony and make sure that the relationship they have is purely platonic. Because of the emotional connection the Veela and mate share, it would be easy to figure out whether the mate is lying or not.
I rolled my eyes at that. What lousy timing, I’ve already had more than enough attacks for this lifetime, and only now I find out about this. Why didn’t Father just say so?? Oh, right, he’s a fucking sadist.
“Weasley,” Zabini called out with a huge grin on his face, breaking my chain of thoughts. “We were just talking about you, weren’t we Crabbe?”
“I’m sure you were,” the Weasel-Boy responded, looking at us scornfully. He quickly reached for his wand and pointed it at Zabini.
“Uh-uh, not today Weasley,” Pucey said, his arm outstretched, pointing his wand directly to Weasley’s chest. Crabbe and Goyle followed suit.
I sighed and threw my book on the desk in front of me and stood up (hands in my pockets. I’m a good boy, see?).
“Put those away,” I commanded my friends, speaking clearly. Granger and the Potty were standing next to Weasley by the doorway, but I chose to ignore her. “Put your wand away, Weasley,” I said forcefully as Crabbe and Goyle put theirs down (Pucey was still pointing his wand at Weasley because he won’t put his wand down).
“Not ‘til he puts his wand down first,” Weasley retorted.
“Oh honestly!” Granger said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. I could (literally) feel she was starting to get fed up and wanted to leave.
“Protego!” I said loudly after pulling my wand out quickly (so as not to scare the daft street-piece-of-shit) and cast a shield, separating my friends from the other three fuckwits. I stuffed my wand back quickly into my pocket and sat down on a desk nearby.
“You fucking piece of shit,” I said to Weasley, once he finally put away his wand. “You attack my friends in a meeting you and Potter called for? What kind of a move is that? Now we were considerate enough to arrive early and grant this little meeting, but if you start behaving like an idiot again, I will not hesitate to pummel your sorry face to the ground. And believe me, I’m not afraid to get suspended for it.”
“We’re sorry,” Potter said, holding a restraining hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We came here to talk, and that’s all we intend to do.”
“I need to hear Weasley say that,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
Weasley looked at me like he wanted to throw heavy objects at me (unfortunately for him, the heavy artillery (i.e. desks, chairs, etc) were in our part of the room - they were standing by the entryway). “We’re just here to talk,” he muttered darkly.
“Good,” I said. I waved the shield charm away and motioned for the three to step in so we could close the doors. Once they settled in, I called out another shield charm and sat next to Goyle on top a desk.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
What do we want to know, he asks. That must have been the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me, and that includes “Are you asleep?” Honestly, why people would ask that question is absolutely beyond me. Like they’d ever get answered: “Yes, I’m asleep.” But anyway, that’s beside the point.
Here we were, in the Astronomy Tower and I was quite fed up with boys and their unnecessary arrogance. All of them, not just Malfoy.
“Everything,” I said. “I want to know why you were talking about me out on the grounds this morning. What is it that would make you hurt if you don’t tell me whatever it is you need to tell me? And why have you been acting so peculiar ever since the start of term?
“First you’re laughing, then you’re almost in tears. Sometimes you’re really mean, but then, on those rare moments, like down in the dungeons… you were bordering nice. Malfoy, you’re making things complicated.”
He frowned, shook his head then turned to look at Zabini as though asking for support. Zabini shook his own head as well and smirked. Malfoy sighed. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.
Then he spoke. “Granger… You’ve been quite the observer, haven’t you?” He frowned once again. “But where to start?”
“Why not try the beginning?” Zabini said with a smile. “That’s where it all began anyway. When you were born.”
“This is going to take all night,” Ron complained.
Malfoy scowled. “If you don’t want to hear the story, Weasel, no one’s forcing you. Leave, if you must.”
Ron scowled back but stayed put.
“But Zabini’s right,” Malfoy continued, ignoring Ron’s glare. He turned to me and spoke with an air of seriousness that I’d never expect from him. “I’m sure you know what Veelas are. (To which I rolled my eyes yet again.) But what I don’t expect you to know is that, well, my father, is one.”
“One what?” asked Ron stupidly. But I had a very bad feeling about this. Any conversation where Lucius Malfoy was concerned was definitely not going to be fun.
“A Veela, you idiot.” Malfoy glowered at him. “Part Veela, his mum was pure Veela, his father wasn’t.”
“I don’t believe it,” Harry said, not to be condescending it seemed, not because he doubted Malfoy’s words, but he did appear to really be appalled by the news. And so was I. “Lucius Malfoy is a far cry from charming. Veelas are irresistible. Lucius… is just not.” Harry shook his head.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Are you a girl, Potter? Veelas are charming to the opposite gender.” But he then frowned and seemed to be deep in thought.
“I never found him any more charming than Filch,” I added.
Malfoy groaned. “THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT! Whether you do or do not find my father charming has nothing to do with what I have to tell you lot! Just take my word for it, he is half-Veela. And when you all stop interrupting me, I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.”
When we all kept silent Malfoy then continued with his story. “My father is part Veela. Period. Which means, that I am part Veela, as well. Now, I’m not sure how much you lot know about Veelas, but there’s this thing called imprinting which takes place once the Veela is of age.”
When we still kept quiet Malfoy continued. “It means that every Veela has a mate. That one other person for whom he, or she, has to be with. The Veela desires for this other person, whether he chooses to or not. And, take note, this is not someone he personally chooses for himself, but who destiny picks out. In some cases, fucking destiny plays with us Veelas in ways you wouldn’t imagine. And even worse, there’s some sort of instinct that tells the Veela that he’d die without his mate. And I mean this literally. Not figuratively. As in the Veela actually does die, if the mate chooses to be with someone else.” he finished in an angry voice.
“What do you mean destiny?” I asked softly. “Are you talking about soul mates? I don’t understand.”
“It’s more than that, Granger,” he said slowly, as though explaining things to a child. But I didn’t hold this against him. It was mind boggling.
“Veelas feel an intense connection to its mate. Whenever the mate is feeling extremely happy, so does the Veela. When the mate is angry, the Veela feels it. When the mate is hurt, the Veela feels the same way. And when the Veela is threatened by another man, he feels the fiercest pain you could ever imagine. It’s almost as though someone was cursing you with the Cruciatus. The jealousy and threat you’d usually feel emotionally manifests itself physically.
“I never chose this. You have to understand that. But I am telling you the truth. I don’t expect you to accept this right away. I know you don’t trust me any more than I trust the lot of you. But believe me, if I could choose otherwise, I will.”
“And you’re telling us this because?” Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion.
“Because, Potter, when Granger was laughing in the compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express, I almost did so myself. When I hurt her with my own words in the Great Hall, she almost cried. If you noticed, so did I. When she was ecstatic out on the Quidditch Pitch because you were about to catch the Snitch, I felt her glee and it totally put me off course. You see what I’m getting at?” he asked quietly.
I felt my eyes grow large. My palms began to sweat. “No.” I could feel my hands shaking as I wiped them on my robes. “No…”
Malfoy sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Malfoy shook his head, bit his lower lip, brushed his fingers through his hair, but said nothing at all.
“You… I… What?!” I said incoherently.
“What he means, Granger, is that Malfoy is a Veela, he has a mate, his mate is you, he feels what you feel, he’d die without you,” Zabini summarised with a hint of laughter in his eyes.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Wow Zabini, you made a rhyme. Essentially useless, but really witty,” he said sarcastically.
“Ron, stop it,” I said berating him, my voice quivering slightly. “I… I need to think.”
“Hermione,” Harry said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t believe him do you?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what to think of things anymore. I did have a feeling this was going to be bad news. Malfoy did start the story with Lucius, for Merlin’s sake. But this – this bomb he just dropped on us – was far worse than what I expected. This was hell on earth. My worst nightmares come true. This was beyond me. It was so farfetched that it didn’t seem like something Malfoy could just come up with.
And didn’t I notice those emotions in him myself? I saw him act strangely on the train, in the Great Hall, on the Pitch… It was all so unlikely, that the only way it could be explained was that it was real.
“How are you sure it’s Hermione?” Harry asked.
“Well, the symptoms were all there,” Malfoy explained glumly. “But just to be sure, there was a potion we had to make and use to find out. And unfortunately, it is Granger.”
“Can it be undone?” I asked slowly. “Is there anyway to fix this?”
Malfoy shook his head. “I did research and asked my father hundreds of questions. Nothing we can do about it.”
“But the mate, I mean, me… I have a choice in it, don’t I?”
“Well, technically, yes,” Malfoy said. “But, if you didn’t hear that part of my explanation, Granger, the Veela DIES if the mate does not choose to be with him.”
“Well, that’s your loss, isn’t it?” asked Ron with a silly grin on his face.
“Shut up, Ron!” I said. But then I saw the look on Ron’s face so I had to take it back. “I just need to think for awhile, can you not speak first?” I asked quietly, placing a hand on Ron’s arm. He nodded without saying a word.
Then out of nowhere I heard someone start wailing and screaming. We all turned to look and found Malfoy on the ground, writhing in apparent agony.
“What?!” I exclaimed as I saw Zabini looking at me irritably. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Take your hands off Weasley,” Zabini said calmly.
“Why?” I asked incredulously. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Zabini sighed with impatience. “The Veela’s pangs of jealousy, as Malfoy said, manifest physically. He’s hurting because of you and the Weasel.”
“What?!” I asked again, letting my arm fall to my side. As soon as I did so, I saw Malfoy begin to relax, his fingers began to unclench and colour rushed to his face. “I don’t get it.”
“Malfoy’s threatened by Weasley,” Pucey said with an air of boredom.
“But that’s preposterous!” Ron said out loud. I glared at him. He shook his head with a smile. “You know what I mean, Hermione.”
“He’s right,” I said looking down at Malfoy. “We’re not together. We’re just friends. You’re actually jealous?”
“’Course he is,” Zabini said, smirking down at Malfoy.
After a long second Malfoy became calm and began to stand up straight. He wiped his temples with the back of his hand, and then turned to glare at me. “Look, Granger, I didn’t choose this, okay! But the least you could do is make things easier for me until we find a way around this.”
“ME?! Why should I do anything? You dragged me into this!”
“I told you, I didn’t choose this!” Malfoy screamed. “I even begged my father to have me kissed by dementors, just so that I could escape my fate! Do you think I want to be with you?!”
I gasped. I felt tears race to my eyes. Was being soulless better for him than to be destined to me? I couldn’t admit this, but I was hurt by what he said. I know I had no right to be hurt, because I knew he didn’t like me and I didn’t like him either. But I couldn’t help but feel as though I was slapped hard across the face.
Malfoy suddenly froze. He clutched at his chest and began heaving.
“Well, if it you hate your fate so much then maybe you should be kissed by a dementor!” I screamed back at him, my tears threatening to spill out at any moment now.
He then looked at me unblinkingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Whatever I said to hurt you that much, I’m sorry.”
“What?” I asked, suddenly confused by the change of atmosphere.
Malfoy closed his eyes. He then undid the Shield Charm and he began walking towards the exit. “I need to go. We can continue this some other time.”
Then without another word Zabini, Pucey, Crabbe and Goyle followed suit, leaving Harry, Ron and I to look at one another open-mouthed.
Well that went well, I mused to myself sarcastically as my friends and I walked towards our dormitory. An ugly row, a mortally angry mate, another heart attack and another teary drama all in just a span of an hour. That must hold a record somehow. Somewhere.
“You’re not acting like your normal, charming, manipulative self,” said Zabini, clucking his tongue in disapproval. “That is definitely not the way to win a lady’s heart, if you know what I mean.”
I glared at him, seething furiously. He was not making matters any better by doing a Snape.
“Apparently not,” Zabini muttered.
“Give him a break,” Pucey said in what I supposed would be helping me in my defence (an act I loathed, people defending me just makes me feel like a right helpless moron). “The girls he’s ever been out with were more or less sado-masochists, he’s never actually learnt to try being pleasant.”
“How the bleeding hell do you think I can act all pleasant around that Mudlblood when all the while, she’s been harbouring disgust and defiance in her at just the thought of our being destined together? You did not feel it the way I did, so shut up!” I retorted and detoured over to Snape’s office instead, leaving my friends looking bewildered.
I knocked on the door anxiously. It took a while before Snape opened it and let me in.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, Draco?” he asked me slickly.
“I… I’m sorry to just barge right in Professor, but erm… I… I have to speak with my father. As soon as possible. I thought I might be able to Floo him? With… with your permission, of course.”
He looked at me calculatingly. “This would be for the same reason as your last two Hogsmeade visits, I take it?”
“Very well. I don’t approve having a student use my own fireplace, let alone leave him in my office without me in it, as I presume you want to speak to your father privately, but I will grant you this one request as I understand the position you’re in.”
“Thank you very much, Professor,” I said, feeling wholly grateful towards him at that moment.
“I’ve been summoned to the headmaster’s office, it won’t take more than ten minutes. Or so I hope. I’ll leave the office to you. Do not let anyone enter and don’t you dare leave until I come back. And if you so much as touch anything in or around my desk, and I will know if you have, I’ll have you doing detention every Friday and Saturday night for the rest of the school year – do you understand?”
What would I want to do with his desk? I managed not to roll my eyes and nodded my head. “Yes, Professor.”
“The Floo powder’s on top the fireplace. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Snape shut the door firmly as he left the room and I was left standing in front of the fireplace, flames cackling wildly in front of me. I grabbed the tiny red container above the mantle and threw a little powder into the grate and knelt down once the fire was burning a deep emerald green and stuck my head into the dancing fire and called out for Malfoy Manor.
“Father!” I bellowed out, once I made out the enormous archway of our (or more specifically, my father’s) study. “LUCIUS! Get your fat, ugly arse in here, this instant!” I roared after several seconds of no response.
“Master Draco?” our house-elf Snippy asked, rushing over to me.
“No, it’s Father Christmas,” I snapped. “Stop asking stupid questions and get me my father or you’ll be facing clothes when I get home!”
“O-Of course Master Draco, Snippy is sorry,” he said and ran out quickly to fetch my father before I threaten him again.
“Draco,” my father greeted me warily several intensely long minutes after Snippy went rushing out. “What’s the matter now?”
“The Mudblood – she wants me dead! She… she… argh! This is ridiculous, father! What am I going to do now?” I said, burying my face into my hands.
“First of all, stop acting like a child. Secondly, I don’t know what happened, so you’ll have to enlighten me.”
And so I told him everything that went on in the Astronomy Tower. Towards the end of my narrative, I saw my father shaking his head and looking at me disapprovingly.
“You told her you’d rather be Kissed by a horde of Dementors than to be with her? Are you mad?! You may be my son, but you have proven to be immeasurably stupid, you insensitive git! I should’ve sent you a self-help book on how to act around girls, and not the book on Veelas.”
“Oh thanks a lot for your help, father,” I sneered. “I really, truly appreciate it.”
“It’s your bleeding fault –“
“She didn’t want to have anything to do with me! I felt it. She was actually cringing when I told her she was my mate.”
“And still, that wasn’t the way you should’ve handled the situation.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happened and I can’t take it back now, can I?”
“You could apologise. Say you’re sorry and that you regret –“
“Then you’ll die.”
“Has there ever been a case where the mate refused to be with the Veela?” I asked, though fearful of what his answer may be.
He shrugged. “I haven’t heard of such a case. There have been cases of Veelas having a hard time and pursuing their mates for years, but that’s about it. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you luck out and never get your mate, at the rate you’re going.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” I said sarcastically, holding on to my heart as though he just told me something insurmountably wonderful.
Father sighed. “Have you at all tried charming her with your Veela powers?”
I cocked my head to a side. “Aren’t I already charming enough? I mean, women throw themselves at me as it is, so I suppose I’ve been using it.”
“Veelas are naturally more beautiful than normal, that’s not you using your powers. You can turn you Charms on and off at will. Just imagine romantic thoughts of yourself and your subject and you’ll instantly exude a sort of Veela aura that would captivate the person you want.”
“That’s it? It’s relatively easy. Except for the part where I have to imagine romantic thoughts of me and Granger…”
“It still won’t be that simple. She can resist your charms – it’s a universal law that you can’t force someone into loving you. It can just help you out a bit. Of course, you have to tidy up your attitude towards her first before you even try this out.”
I rolled my eyes. “If I must.”
“You must. So get your act together. Unless you’re into the idea of dying early. Practise your charms on other people first – women, if you don’t mind – and see if you can get the hang of it.”
At that moment, I heard the door open and close behind me.
“Draco, you should head on out to the Great Hall. Dinner,” Snape said gruffly and sat down in front of his desk looking pensive.
“Right. Erm, I have to go now, father, Professor Snape’s here.”
“Alright then. You go on ahead. Tell Severus I want a word with him, will you?”
Authors’ Notes: Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It’s getting pretty interesting, don’t you think? Well, at least I was able to write something longer this time around. Had a holiday from work today, so I had more time to finish my part of the deal. Sloane would just kill me if this took any longer to write. Anyhoo, we would truly appreciate it if you lot would leave us a word or two. Just tell us what you think, or whatever. Once again, thank you for reading, kindly review, and I guess it’s tata for now! Kisses all around. Ciao. –Skye
To everyone still around to read this, wow. Lol. And oh, we have made a mistake regarding Adrian Pucey (shame faced) so it's either he did a Marcus flint and repeated another grade, or we change him to Theodore Nott once we've finished the entire story. Soz. :( -Sloane
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