Draco sat on a window ledge and stared out at the long dark expanse of the castle grounds. A storm was brewing, grey clouds darkening the sky as the wind crashing across the tops of the trees, like a wave.

He glanced at the door at the end of the long conference room where he had been told to wait for Potter's guest. He had been surprised about the meeting happening so soon when Potter had been so uncertain she would agree to come at all.

Draco shifted restlessly, an uncomfortable prickle was spreading from his shoulder blades, down his back. He had felt something like this before, but never this strong, like all his muscles were bunching and clenching beneath his skin. And... he felt scared.

He heard a baby cry and dropped his feet to the floor as the door swung open. A beautiful woman with silvery blond hair stepped inside, closing the door behind her as she gently hushed the baby in the sling on her front. Then she saw Draco, and recoiled, her back pressing tight against the door. Her already pale skin went nearly translucent with fear.

Draco felt a flaring aggressive, pulsing thrum in the base of his skull. A molten feeling pooling in his mind, replacing the prickling under his skin with burning pain that spread from his back and shoulders and down his arms.

And at the same time, he wanted to stand. He wanted to- to be bigger. He wanted to be bigger than her. For her to be afraid. For her to run, to go away- just go away. Draco's hand's twitched and ached, clenching and unclenching.

He knew he couldn't allow himself to stand. He didn't even trust himself to move.

Every muscle in his body trembled, fighting against him as he held himself perfectly still. His breathing shuddering in uneven gasps.

"I should not 'ave brought ze baby," she said ruefully, her hand gripping the doorknob, ready to run.

Draco recognized her voice, it was Fleur Delacour, now married to one of the Weasley brood.

"If you do not move, I will talk," Fleur said. She waited a moment and then continued, never taking her eyes off him, " 'arry wrote me and 'e was right, you are a veela."

"What?" Draco breathed.

Fleur nodded, "I can feel it. You can as well, yes?"

"No," Draco breathed.

"It is true," Fleur said shortly. The baby began to whimper, and she pressed a protective hand over their back. Her nails had grown sharp, and black as slate.

"I 'ave read about male veela, but 'ave never seen one. You do not seem possible, yet 'ere you are." Fleur swallowed hard, the door handle clicked as she eased it open, "You are young, an' dangerous. I want to rip your throat out, so I am going to go."

Draco just stared, his mind gone too numb to even respond.

Fleur stepped out into the hall, the sconces hit her silvery hair making it flicker with yellow and orange light, "I will send a list of names, teachers from Beauxbaton, zey might help you. Zere are books veela read to prepare for ze change. I can do no more for you."

The door started to shut and paused once more, her voice carrying through the gap, "Do not see other veela like zis. Once ze change is done, it will be safer."

The door closed.

Draco didn't move. Not until his muscles began to unclench, and the prickling between his shoulders faded.

He collapsed back against the window, the cold condensation soaking through his robe. Draco looked down at his hands, hands he didn't recognise. Horrible long fingers with longer black hooked claws at the end of his fingers and skin that almost looked like scales as it spread up his arm. He stared numbly as his hands slowly changed back, pain radiating through his hands and pulsing up his arms with every beat of his heart. He kept staring long after his hands had gone back to normal.

"Hey-" Potter's voice broke through the fog.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, his voice sounding flat and distant.

Potter took a step closer, "Fleur told me she was coming. She had planned to stay through dinner to see us all, but she left right away. She looked... I dunno, like something was after her."

Draco wanted to laugh but he couldn't.

"Did you do something?" Potter asked, narrowing his eyes.

Draco just stared at him, feeling empty and cold to his core. And afraid of what might happen if he allowed himself not to be.

"...Are you alright? You look worse than Fleur did. Do you want to go back to the infirmary?" Potter asked, reaching out a hand and then hastily taking a step backwards before he could actually touch him.

Draco nodded.

-

-

"Mr Malfoy?" Pomfrey said after one look at him, "You just left my care the other day... I'm starting to think you might need to be seen by a healer."

Draco waited until Potter had been shooed out the hospital wing before answering, "I've just found some information that might give me an idea of what's wrong with me."

"Well, that would be a relief! You've been quite the drain on my potion stores as of late," Pomfrey said pressing a revitalising potion into his hand with a pointed look.

"I just need to check something," Draco said, "I have an important family history question, if I could use the floo-?"

Madam Pomfrey's lips thinned.

"I won't be long, it's just to my mother," Draco said, trying not to sound as desperate as he was, "it's very important."

"...Very well," Pomfrey said stiffly. She led him to the back where a fireplace was always ready for students that might need to be taken to St. Mungo's and unlocked the wooden box on the mantle that held her floo powder. She let him take a pinch before snapping the box closed like he might steal it otherwise.

Draco waited for Pomfrey to leave. She didn't.

"You can cast a privacy spell," Pomfrey said, "I can't leave a student by an active floo unattended."

Draco nodded because he didn't trust himself not to snap at the woman if he tried to speak. He cast a muffliato and threw the powder into the fire, calling out his parents residence in france and sticking his head in the billowing green flames.

"Darling? What is it? Is something wrong? Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?" Mother asked as soon as she knelt in front of the fireplace.

"I've been sick," Draco said flatly.

"What is it? Oh, sweet Circe, it's not dragon pox is it?" Mother asked in growing alarm.

"No, Mother," Draco said, and interrupted her before she could conjure another malady for him to die from, "Are there- are there veela in our family?"

Mother went very quiet then put on one of her fake social smiles, "Oh well, you know the rumours that Malfoy line has veela heritage. It's said that's were their distinctive looks all come from. I'm fairly certain your grandmother Geneviève was a veela... or possibly your great-grandmother?"

"Another veela said I was one," Draco said, his hands beginning to shake all over again, "I've been weak, running fevers... changing..."

Mother closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she couldn't look at him.

"Mother?"

She did not answer him.

Draco pressed, "Mother, please."

"...Bella once told me-" Mother said, her voice halting and terribly fragile, "I thought she was just being cruel, she was often cruel for no reason."

Draco waited.

Mother took a deep breath, "She said I was a bastard. From a veela whore. That I was only kept around because I was still half Black." A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away.

"Mother..."

She shook her head, "They were so quick to marry me off, so pleased about the dowry the Malfoy's offered even though they had always said the whole family was nothing but power-hungry upstarts."

"And your hair," Draco said quietly, "Blacks have dark hair."

Mother nodded and whispered, "But aside from my colouring, I've never had any of the veelas... special traits. Draco, are you certain? Are you absolutely certain?"

"I- I....my hands... I had talons," Draco said. I'm frightened, he wanted to say, but could no more say the words here than he had in the past.

Mother nodded faintly, biting her lip. "What can I do? Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

"I was told there are books on veela at Beauxbaton-"

"I'll find you everything I can," Mother said.

"And," Draco hesitated, looking down at his hands, braced on the stone floor, "don't tell father," he whispered.

Mother glanced away looking stricken, "Draco... I couldn't. You know he wouldn't approve."

"I know." Draco felt a finger tap his shoulder and quickly blinked back the stinging ache in his eyes, "I have to go now, Mother."

"Write me, tell me everything," Mother said, "I'll send whatever I can find."

"I'll write to you. Goodbye," Draco said. He sat back on his heels and clumsily removed the muffling charm.

"Mr Malfoy, if you're done, I have students to see to other than you," Pomfrey said.

Draco sneezed from the ash as the flames died down. He slowly uncorked the potion she had given him and drank it down.

"Well?" Pomfrey said, tapping out an impatient rhythm with her foot.

"I..." Draco looked at nothing, his eyes refusing to focus. His throat grew tight, choking on the words.

"Mr Malfoy."

Draco swallowed hard, "....can I tell you tomorrow? It can wait, can't it?"

"Oh, it will certainly be sorted tomorrow," Pomfrey said, shaking her head, "Get to bed. I'm sure you know your way by now."

-

-

Draco stared at the dark ceiling of the hospital wing. It was becoming an unfortunately common sight.

He shifted restlessly, the bedsprings squeaking faintly under him. There was so much he didn't know. There was so much he was frightened to know.

The door at the far end of the room eased open and shut with unnatural silence, followed by a lack of footsteps to follow and just an occasional rustle of fabric.

Draco waited, feeling a growing sense of calm as whoever it was approached. No. He knew. He had felt it enough times now. Potter taking off his invisibility cloak only confirmed Draco's suspicions.

"What do you want?" Draco asked.

Potter hesitated, frowning and pulling at his hair, "You never said."

"Said what?"

"If it was true, what I thought," Potter said.

Draco's eyes widened and he looked away.

"It was, wasn't it," Potter said.

Draco squeezed his eyes closed and nodded.

Potter conjured a chair, turning it around and sitting on it backwards so he could rest his arms across the top. His hair was loose and fell around his face in a riot of wavy curls. The faint light of the moon traced the planes of his face and painted the tips of his eyelashes white.

Draco shivered, and pulled his blankets higher, "If you've known all this time-"

"It was more of a guess really," Potter interrupted.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "How could you possibly guess something I- I didn't-"

Potter shrugged, with an almost guilty look, "Just a feeling."

"A feeling," Draco repeated, mocking and resentful. "Fine. Then stay away from me."

Potter frowned at him.

"You're being affected by my allure," Draco said nearly biting his own tongue, wanting to pull those words back from the open air.

Potter propped his chin on his arms, "Yeah. Should be fine, though. I can throw off an Imperius, and Fleur didn't really affect me at all."

"She hardly has any power," Draco said and shivered, uncomfortable with the certainty of his knowledge. But he had felt her magic, he knew.

Potter rubbed his cheek on his arm, avoiding Draco's gaze, "Fleur's not my type is all."

"You shouldn't be here," Draco said.

"I'll go," Potter said, though he didn't move.

Draco knew it was a foolish idea, but Potter made him feel calm for the first time all day.

Draco closed his eyes, unwilling to look at Potter as he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper, "Stay until I fall asleep?"

There was silence, filled only with their breathing.

"Alright," Potter replied softly.

-

-

Harry put his chin back on his arms as Malfoy's breathing slowed, and his body relaxed into sleep. Malfoy still looked ill, but somehow more ethereal. It was probably the moonlight, Harry told himself, making Malfoy's hair and skin look so-

Harry shook his head, turning his cheek on his arms, looking out the window. It was strange thinking of Malfoy of all people being part veela. Not that Harry knew many part human, part magical creatures.

Hagrid was half giant, Remus had been a werewolf, and Greyback was still out there. He wondered if metamorphmagus' like Tonks and Teddy counted, probably not since they weren't... hated. The metamorphmagus ability wasn't from being mixed with anything, at least not that he knew of. It was mixing that people always seemed to hate, regardless of whether they were muggles or magic.

He knew a lot of people would say veela weren't hated, but Harry remembered how people had treated Fleur, drooling and gawking at her, trying to win her like a prize. She had only started dating Bill because he had treated her like a person. And it was awful how very rare that seemed to be. It would be worse for Malfoy. He was a veela, his past, and his family all stirred into a single volatile mix.

Harry hadn't been lying about Fleur. He had felt a pull from her, but it had been so light he had shrugged it off without thinking. Being around Malfoy wasn't like that, Harry hesitated to think of it as an allure at all. He didn't desire Malfoy, it felt more like... being wrapped up in a warm blanket. It was just comfortable to be around him. Harry felt more at ease, his thoughts didn't race, and he felt like he could finally, finally, let down his guard.

Harry looked back as Malfoy he turned on his side, trying to squirm deeper into the blankets. Harry stood as quietly as he could and pulled the duvet higher around Malfoy and sat back down, feeling accomplished when Malfoy relaxed again.

It wasn't an allure, but that didn't make it any less dangerously appealing.

-

-

Draco carefully used the corner of his toast to mop up the last bit of egg from his plate, trying not to feel resentful and hungry as he ate the last bite.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said briskly as she walked over to his bedside.

Draco put his breakfast tray aside and sat up straighter, "Headmistress."

"Poppy has sent me quite a worrying report," McGonagall said holding up a sheet of parchment, the handwriting too small and cramped for him to read, "The number of times you've been the hospital wing recently is alarming." She pushed her glasses up and read off, "Chronic fatigue, weakness, fainting, dangerously high fevers..." She looked over the top of the parchment, "Does this have anything to do with other students targeting you?"

"No," Draco said.

McGonagall said, "As far you're aware it's a purely health-related issue? If so, it's reached the point where it would be in your best interest to be seen by a healer at St Mungo's."

Draco hesitated, looking down at his hands curled together on the sheets, "Could I be certain of your discretion if I were to tell you what it is?"

McGonagall pursed her lips and gave him a short nod, "No one will know outside of those that absolutely must for your health and well-being. And I won't budge on that, Mr Malfoy."

"And you've always done such a jolly good job of it" Draco muttered, unable to hold back his bitterness.

"It is my goal to improve every year upon the last, especially in concern to the failings of the last few years," McGonagall said. She drew her wand and cast a series of overlapping privacy charms around them, "Go on."

Draco squeezed the sheets, "I-" his throat tried to close over the words again, and he took a deep breath. "...I'm a veela," he choked out.

McGonagall's eyebrows rose. She slowly looked him over with a growing frown, "You are looking better than your health issues would normally suggest, and are somewhat more... distinctive than you used to be..."

Draco grimaced, his nose wrinkling.

"Can anyone verify your claim?" McGonagall asked, "Otherwise, a visit with a healer still stands."

Draco hesitated, "My mother said there might be a family history of it and... another veela said that I was one. I... I began changing when she came in the room. My hands-" he stretched them out in front of himself, they began to shake at the memory, "-I had black talons."

"Not claws?" McGonagall asked.

"I know what talons look like. I've had an owl since I was three," Draco said stiffly.

McGonagall's expression didn't flicker, "I had to ask, Mr Malfoy, we've had quite a few werewolves this year."

"That's not my fault."

"I never said it was," McGonagall said coolly. "I can hardly see how you would be solely responsible for a rather unstable man who was serving Voldemort of his own free will. If anyone was to blame, I would say it was the aurors under whose watch he escaped before he could be imprisoned."

Draco wilted back against the headboard.

"Would this veela be willing to verify what you've just told me?" McGonagall asked.

"I don't think she wants anyone to know she saw me," Draco said.

McGonagall nodded, "Well then, I shall be discrete when I speak to Fleur Weasley."

Draco's eyes widened.

"She requested permission to visit the school yesterday, it's not a difficult leap to make," McGonagall said, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly.

Draco nodded.

McGonagall sighed, "The problem, Mr Malfoy, is that we've never had a veela at Hogwarts and that is because we are not prepared to deal with them going through- precisely what you seem to be going through right now."

"What I'm going through?" Draco said.

"Not all veela have the correct mix of genes to change in any meaningful way, but those that do, they transition from being just a rather striking human to something a bit more... well, veela are considered magical creatures. Your entire body is changing into something quite different."

"You make it sound like puberty," Draco said.

McGonagall mouth twitched up briefly, "Something like that, yes."

"I don't remember puberty being quite so painful."

"That is troubling," McGonagall said, "but it likely has something to do with how old you are."

"Eighteen?" Draco said.

"Too old, Mr Malfoy. Veela usually change sometime between the age of thirteen and sixteen and over a year, sometimes more. I suspect the stress of the past two years may have delayed it, and now your body is trying to catch up." McGonagall tapped her foot on the floor as she thought, her brow furrowing. "I must speak with Fleur. If she confirms your story, then I will need to reach out to Beauxbaton and see if you can still transfer this late in the year."

Draco sat bolt upright, "Transfer?"

"We can't accommodate you here," McGonagall said.

"...My probation stated that I had to finish my schooling at Hogwarts," Draco said.

"I will arrange everything," McGonagall said, "Your health and safety are more important."

"I'm not sure the Wizengamot will agree with you," Draco said.

"I don't care if they agree, it's not negotiable," McGonagall said, "For now, however, you can't return to your lessons."

"But I'm already so far behind!" Draco protested.

"There's no saying how your unstable magic might react to other students. And you are weak enough that too great an exertion could be injurious to you," McGonagall said.

"I can't afford to lose more time," Draco said.

"I'll have someone bring you notes from your classes. I believe Hermione Granger shares the same classes as you?" McGonagall asked.

Draco stared at her.

"Surely you can't have any complaints about the quality of her notes," McGonagall said.

Draco muttered. "I'm not the one that's going to have complaints."

"Hermione is an exemplary student, and if she has any complaints, you'll be glad to hear it is not a request."

Draco nodded.

"Are there any other students who know?" McGonagall asked.

"Potter," Draco answered reluctantly.

"Ah, and he arranged for you to meet with Fleur." McGonagall tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully, "As long as he knows, I might have Harry bring you whatever you might need for your classes when I'm not available."

"I don't think that's a-"

"Now is not the time for petty childhood rivalries," McGonagall interrupted, "Harry is trustworthy, and can throw off an Imperius curse. He is uniquely suited to being in your presence." She nodded and brushed her hands together as if it were all sorted, "Very well, I have a great deal to see to now. You'll be moved to a private room-"

"I already have a single room," Draco said.

"It's too close to the other students. We have to avoid all unnecessary contact." McGonagall said.

"I understand," Draco said flatly, "It won't be for long anyway."