Veela Love

Chapter Three: The Hospital Wing

            Draco was panicked, holding his unconscious mate in his arms. No, he was beyond panicked; he was whatever came AFTER terrified.

First, he had realized in the carriage ride over that Hermione fucking Granger was his mate. He'd had a feeling on the train when he'd seen her, and the buzzing in his head had increased, but sitting next to her had been unbearable. The buzzing was dizzying, and all he had wanted to do was grab Hermione and wrap her in his arms, something that had never ever crossed his mind before. It was then that he knew. And god, what a shock that had been.

He'd never looked twice at Hermione, except perhaps to make fun of her bushy hair or buck teeth. And then, without warning, he craved the feel of her in his arms. It had taken all his self-control not to grab her in the carriage and soothe her - he could feel the waves of sadness and weariness wafting off her, and it drowned him. He needed to fix it, but he didn't know how especially not with Blaise and Pansy sitting right there.

Second, he had had to watch her eat across from Weasel and Potty. Draco had felt her distress increase tenfold, and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not launch himself across the great hall and rip the Weasel limb from limb. At least his sister was comforting Hermione as best she could. He had heard nothing Professor McGonagall had said in her speech, his gaze fixed on his mate the entire time. He'd only looked away for a second when she'd found him staring at her.

Then he had meant to make his way to the 8th year dorms, but his body had ideas of its own. Knowing somehow Hermione would be one of the last to leave, he stationed himself behind a statue and waited. He could feel her getting closer and closer, and then she was there. On instinct, he reached out his arm and grabbed Hermione, bringing her flush against his chest. His Veela nearly purred with happiness. He couldn't stop himself; he had to taste her lips.

When she finally managed to pull away, he'd blurted out that she was his mate. And then she passed out, and Draco was suddenly hyperventilating. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Gently he gathered her in his arms and sprinted towards the hospital wing. A wave of magic pulsed off him and slammed open the doors for him, and he slid to a stop in the middle of the room.

Madame Pomfrey came storming out of her office. "What is going on – oh my! Put her right there, Mr. Malfoy!" She gestured towards the closest bed.

Draco gently laid Hermione down, as if she was so fragile she'd break at the wrong touch.

"What happened?"

Draco felt himself flush.

Madame Pomfrey gave Draco a hard stare. "I'm aware of your heritage, Mr. Malfoy. I can only assume since you're suddenly with Ms. Ganger that she is your mate?"

Relieved, he nodded.

"So I repeat myself – what happened.

"I kissed her and then told her she's my mate, and she passed out," he mumbled.

"And before? What were her feelings?"

Draco glanced up at the Madame. Of course, she knew Draco could feel his mate's emotions. It was a very Veela trait. "She was exhausted and sad and stressed."

The Madame waved her wand over Hermione's body and hummed to herself.

"Is she okay?" Draco fretted, pacing back and forth on the other side of the bed.

"It's just a mixture of shock and exhaustion. She should be just fine once she comes round, but I'd like to keep her in here for the night just to make sure. You may wait for her – not that I could stop you from staying with your mate." She tutted. "I must inform the headmistress of this rather interesting turn of events."

Draco wasn't listening anymore. He'd sat down in the chair next to the bed and had grabbed Hermione's hand, gazing at her face, transfixed.

He'd thought about his mate endlessly since he'd found out he was a Veela, and he'd run through all the people it could be. Mates were always someone that the Veela had known before their turn. Some were repulsive, such as Pansy, and others were tolerable, such as Astoria. But never, ever, had Hermione Granger crossed his mind.

Why? Because she was one of the Golden Trio, a War Hero, someone who was always right in everything she did. His hatred of her had long since dissipated. In fact, it'd been beaten out of him when he watched her be tortured on the floor of his manor. But she wasn't a pureblood. No, she was muggle-born, and even though Draco wasn't technically a pureblood anymore because of his Veela blood, he had just assumed his mate would be.

He'd been wrong.

His Veela side preened at being so close to its other half, but his human side was more detached and still in shock.

There was still a chance she'd reject him, and he'd die. He knew it was more than likely given their past interactions. His Veela cringed at the thought, inching away from the very physical pain the idea brought.

Taking her in, Draco had to admit objectively she had gotten rather pretty, and her hair had been slightly tamed, although not by much. In her unconscious state, she seemed so peaceful; the furrow of her brow that had been present all night smoothed away.

Draco sat there, staring at her for another hour before she started to stir.

Cracking an eye open, she turned her head to see who was holding her hand. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

She closed her eyes again and groaned.

"What's wrong?" Draco could hear the panic in his own voice, and he hated it.

"Please tell me you weren't serious when you told me I'm your mate. Please tell me you're not my Veela, the reason I had to break up with Ron."

Draco was conflicted – he was both horribly offended she wasn't pleased he was her mate, after all, he was a Malfoy, and delighted that she'd broken up with the Weasel. That'd explain all the nasty looks he'd cast her way throughout dinner.

"I was serious."

Hermione was silent for several seconds before she said very clearly, "Fuck."

Draco started laughing; he couldn't help it.

"What's so funny, ferret?"

"I've never heard you cuss, even when you punched me." He continue to chuckle to himself.

Opening her eyes, she stared at Draco, her mouth slightly open.

"What?"

"I've never heard you laugh before," she whispered. "It's nice."

Draco felt himself blush and looked away.

"So were mates. How'd that happen?" she asked more to herself than him.

"Magic, Hermione. Old, ancient magic that comes along and fucks everything up."

She nodded, biting her lip. Draco bit back a groan.

"I guess we're stuck together then."

Draco's mouth dropped open.

"What?"

"You aren't rejecting me?" he choked out.

Hermione gave him an unreadable look. "Of course not, Malfoy. I don't like you, but I don't want you to die. I won't have your blood on my hands."