Narcissa's Time Turner

Chapter 19: The Hypnotic Hunter

When Hermione approached the same lake she had once danced at, she saw the back of an angel. A tall man with large white wings that had silver-gold feathers was screaming in anguish, pacing back and forth in front of the water. The screams were strangely melodic, after all they had beckoned her all the way here.

The entire area was dyed blue from the bright moonlight. He was only wearing what looked like Hogwarts school slacks but they were torn in many places, probably by...those hands. Could those even be called hands? The angel looked divine apart from the long, claw like appendages at the end of its arms.

She felt enchanted by it, like it was the most beautiful thing in the world despite the horrific nails. One word came to mind: veela. What was that the book had said? Never approach a veela who is showing their wings. Never. Was this even a veela? It had a torso like a male human, and large muscled arms, but veelas were all supposed to be female. If this wasn't a male veela, it was truly the kind of angel her muggle parents believed in. Awe-inspiring and terrifying. There was a reason biblical angels always said, "be not afraid."

She caught a glimpse of its side profile, the pronounced jaw clenching. Its face looked exactly like Draco Malfoy, but the eyes were glowing red even in the dark night.

Her heart felt like it would shatter with the slightest movement. At some point she had begun to care so deeply for Draco that his pain felt like her own, and this just had to be Draco Malfoy. Even with his inhuman features, it somehow seemed right. No one else at Hogwarts, no, no one else in the world could fit this visage like he did. Draco had always seemed otherworldly, and now he had reached his zenith. 

His morose cries played her heartstrings like a harp, making her own emotions echo his back to him. She knew he had a deep sadness within him, but little did she know how many leagues beneath the sea the abyss went. The misery added to the beauty of the angel, as awful as that was, but she would give up tasting this particular flavor of loveliness so long as he never had to go through this again. 

Only a split second had passed since she happened upon the creature. After she took it in, she realized she was in great danger, and stepped back. However, she was too late. As if it could sense her presence, the angel turned around. How did it know? She hadn't made a sound!

His gleaming eyes landed on her, and he smiled a predatory smile. His teeth were all pointed, like the teeth swans hide within their beaks. Hermione didn't think the Draco she had gotten to know would ever hurt her, but her instincts kicked in and her feet moved without her permission. 

Hermione turned and ran. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She didn't have time to ask herself questions like, how on earth was this happening? Gusts of wind were on her back, blowing her hair wildly in all directions and obscuring her vision. She felt like her legs might buckle under the gale, and stole a glance backwards to find the creature pursuing her, still smiling crazily. The wings were so huge that the trees were shaking from the force of wind they generated, and leaves were lifted from the forest floor. Hermione was being hunted like a deer. 

She brandished her wand and screamed over her shoulder, "Petrificus totalus!"

A fiery shield erupted around the winged creature, blocking the spell. The angel's wings wrapped around it in a barrel roll for a moment, and then it burst through the fiery shield, still hot on her heels.

She kept screaming, "Stupefy! Reducto! Locomotor Mortis! Confringo! Bombarda!"

The fiery shields wouldn't stop. The angel didn't even need a wand to cast them, so expelliarmus would not help her. She was lost now, as she had been running and running trying to leave the angel but the creature was herding her and cutting off her escape routes. Eventually she got so tired she couldn't go on anymore.

While I have a bit of stamina left, she thought, I have to finish this. Breathing hard, she finally stopped and turned to face the creature. Hermione's vinewood wand shook in her hand. If my spells don't work on him, I'll have to use the surroundings!

"Oppugno!" she cast on the vines laying on the forest floor. The vines moved to attack him, but the second they touched the angel they burst into flames.

She tried to dash to the left, but a ball of fire just like those the veelas had thrown at a group of leprechauns during the 1994 Quidditch World Cup blocked her path, setting the trees ablaze. This was a veela, she finally realized, a male veela, and one who had fixed its eyes on her. How else could it use the exact magic she had seen a veela use with her own eyes in fourth year?

Draco walked toward her, a predator surveying his prey, slowly closing in. He had a playful smirk that didn't match her own mind at all. She had nowhere to go, no way to run, but something else mixed in with her fear. As Hermione stood silently, chest heaving, she felt betrayed, and she felt so confused as to why he would set the Forbidden Forest on fire just to capture her, or worse. He had no right looking so gorgeous when he was this dangerous. A gilded trap. Draco had become one of her closest friends so very quickly. Was it all to this end, was it all just to devour her? It would seem true if he still wanted to eradicate muggle borns, but she had believed him so wholeheartedly when he confessed that he was no longer swayed by worth based on blood purity. 

No, wanting to hurt her didn't make sense, she reasoned. If he wanted to end her, he could have aimed the fireball right at her head. She had read about the extent of veela magic. She didn't stand a chance, she knew that from all the spells she had cast to no avail. 

Finally, Hermione realized, I might just be his mate. In this winged form, a veela should be destroying everything, murdering every witch and wizard in their path, but all he had done was try to herd her like a sheep, and his eyes, that look in his eyes! He had been smiling like a man possessed ever since saw her. His anguish had ceased the moment she came to find him, drawn to him out of compassion, foolish and courageous enough to follow her heart. 

Was this the twisted form a veela's love took? Pursuit, herding, capture? She might have never had a choice. Hermione felt like letting out a sarcastic laugh. No wonder the day Fortuna favored her, all that happened was running into Draco Malfoy. This had always been her fate, and no matter how hard she tried to evade it the prophecy would always come true. If Oedipus Rex couldn't flee from it, how could a mere girl? 

Hermione's mind wavered, and her soul that still had pieces of his own buried within it pulsed. He made her feel things she had never dreamt of feeling. Before Draco opened his heart to her, all she had experienced was a deep affection for Ron that left her feeling used. Ron was nice to her when he wanted her help, and rejected her whenever her own emotions became too bothersome for him. At the Yule Ball, Ron had made it clear she was only a last resort, a toy to play with when all the newer, more popular ones were being used by someone else. 

But, Malfoy... He treated her like someone wise and respected. A kind witch, an intelligent witch, a witch he wanted to be around. Even though it might only be the pull he felt for a mate, if any mind rivaled her own, it was his. Who else could be her equal? Draco had given her the chance to sort her thoughts, continuing his slow stride. He seemed to sense the moment her resolve to resist him weakened. 

Fire was quickly overtaking the scene, catching onto a dry bush. The veela now looked like Lucifer himself, bathed in the fires of hell, freshly fallen. Was this truly Draco Malfoy? It couldn't be, it just couldn't be-

The veela, no, the angel, started to dance and she was instantly enthralled. Beckoned, beguiled, bewitched. His massive gossamer wings in the firelight reflected tiny rainbows all around them, as if the feathers were made of crystals. It greatly resembled the dance the Prince does in her favorite ballet, Swan Lake. It was distinctly masculine yet incredibly graceful. Magic radiated from those ruby red eyes and she felt so happy, so calm.

All thoughts of fear, running, escaping, left Hermione's mind. They were useless thoughts, swept aside like mist over a lake being blown by the wind. They were gone like the sun rising above a shadow, making it effortlessly dissipate. A dreamy smile began to spread on her face, and she sighed.

He stepped toward her with purpose, pointing his toes, his arms open in a welcoming gesture, letting his wings flap with each step. The great crystalline feathers fanned the fire yet didn't catch flame. His flickering red gems drew her in like a moth to a light.