Fic: The Handsome Stranger (Part 6 of ?)
Summary Veela and the possible consequences.
Warnings Fluff ... lots and lots of fluff ... and sweetness ... so much sweetness you'll need to clean your teeth. Oh, and later there will be smut, but not yet. Rating PG.
The Handsome Stranger
Chapter Six ... The Veela Paradox
If there was one thing that Harry Potter had come to realise in the years since he found out he was a wizard, it was that he was hopeless at studying.
When he attended Muggle schools, he’d never had a problem; in fact he spent much of his time in the library because it was the one place Dudley was guaranteed not to be. He enjoyed storybooks and had devoured most of the fiction section, and even quite enjoyed all the other books, especially ones with photographs of far-away places.
But the moment he’d stepped into the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, studying had become difficult. Most of the books were old and staid, and about as interesting as watching paint dry. And while the language they were written in was often English, it was a version he struggled to understand.
This was why he didn’t know much about the Veela because all the books about them were full of long complicated names and histories of someone begetting someone else.
So, when Justin Finch-Fletchley told him that Draco Malfoy (who Harry had fallen head over broomstick in love with) had been married to a Veela, Harry had made immediate assumptions about just what that might mean.
He’d quickly got rid of Justin, using some wordless magic he’d devised with Brenda. The magic would ring a small bell on her desk and five minutes later she would knock on the door and remind him of an appointment he needed to be at.
Now he was back in Ottery St Catchpole at Ron’s house trying to make some sense of the way Hermione had arranged her rather spectacular collection of books. Ron had told him more than once that his wife’s ambition was to become Head Librarian at Hogwarts and with Madam Pince finally retiring at the end of the current school year, Ron was worried she might finally get her wish.
Justin’s ‘proof’ had consisted of a few unsubstantiated stories and a rather bad copy of what might have been Draco’s marriage certificate. It didn’t help that it was in a Finnish dialect that, according to one of Hermione’s book, was based on an ancient Veela language. Draco’s wife seemed to be called Joukahainen or something like that -- the lettering bled into the paper and was smudged, like a Muggle document that had been photocopied and then the copy copied and that copy copied until it was all blurred.
He was over the initial shock of Justin’s revelations now but the questions just kept running round and round his mind. Sat at the oak table he’d given Ron and Hermione as one of their wedding presents, Harry glanced absently at the books surrounding him and once again berated himself for his lack of research skills. He’d written down some questions in an attempt to work out just what he was looking for.
Do Veela marry wizards?
The answer to that one was obvious -- Bill Weasley was married to Fleur, and her grandmother was a Veela.
Was it true that Veela bonded for life?
That one scared him. There was something in one of the books about bond-mates dying because their partners had died. Was that Bill’s fate? He remembered there are been some special vows during Bill and Fleur’s wedding in a language he hadn’t understood. Had those vows been some sort of Veela bonding, or had there been another ceremony?
Was Draco, the archetypical pure-blood wizard actually part-Veela? And, if so, on which side of his family?
It seemed almost impossible to imagine Veela blood on the Malfoy side; Lucius Malfoy had been so caught up in pure-blood supremacy that the idea his family might be tainted seemed almost out of the question. So could it be Narcissa’s family?
Harry frowned. That would mean the Black family had Veela ancestry. It might, he considered, explain why Narcissa had such classic Veela colouring -- she carried the gene while her dark-haired sister Bellatrix didn’t and had passed it onto Draco.
But would Lucius have married her if he’d known?
He stared out of the window. If Draco was part-Veela, did that explain why he’d fallen in love so quickly with the man? He remembered the way he’d reacted to the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup, but they’d been female. And while Fleur had some sort of effect on males, she certainly didn’t do the same for females. Hadn’t Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley been very much against her relationship with Bill? Maybe that had nothing to do with Fleur being a Veela but more because they didn’t want her to marry Bill.
So, female Veela made human men act stupidly. Did girls act the same with male Veela?
Would a gay man react to a male Veela? And if he’d always been gay, then why had he reacted to female Veela?
Harry sighed and pushed a hand through his already messy hair. He wasn’t happy about the idea that his obsession with Draco might not be due to the fact he was in love with Draco but because of some Veela effect influencing him. The time he’d spent with Draco over the last few days had been wonderful and he was desperate for more of the same.
More of those sensual kisses and more touches and more of just the way it felt to be with Draco. But he didn’t want any of that if some outside influence was making him fall in love.
Harry closed the heavy tome in front of him, the action sending a flurry of dust into the air. He needed to talk to Draco.
****
The late winter sunshine was pleasantly warm as Harry strode through the village. He wasn’t expecting Draco to be at home in the middle of the day, but he was so hyped up now that if he didn’t at least try to speak to the man, he knew he would regret it.
Squirrel’s Leap was on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. It was a beautiful white-walled thatched cottage, the sort one often saw on the front of chocolate boxes. The small front garden with full of roses and even had a rose-covered arch over the gate, while the large rear garden lead down to a small orchard and the banks of the River Otter.
As he neared the cottage, Harry reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the folded marriage certificate. He’d wondered whether to show it to Draco straight away, but then he would have to explain how he'd got it and he was quite sure Draco would be very offended to find out that a private detective had been asking questions about him.
He came to an abrupt halt as the crack of someone Apparating filled the air. It wasn’t so much the sound he heard but an airblast of magic rolling towards him. Old war-worn reactions kicked in and wand automatically in his hand, he tried to find the location and realised that a very beautiful woman was standing beside the gate outside of Squirrel’s Leap. She had long blonde hair reaching almost to her waist.
Pushing back into the shadows of a hedge, Harry watched as Arlen rushed down the garden path and threw himself into the woman’s arms. The boy was followed by Draco who was walking at a much more leisurely pace. Harry’s face fell as he saw the way Draco smiled at the woman.
As Draco kissed her on the cheek and pulled her into a familiar hug, Harry backed away, desperate to be anywhere but here.
What a fool he’d been to think someone like Draco would want him.
---
Chapter Seven ... Secrets and Lies
Warnings Fluff ... lots and lots of fluff ... and sweetness ... so much sweetness you'll need to clean your teeth. Oh, and later there will be smut, but not yet. Rating PG.
The Handsome Stranger
Chapter Six ... The Veela Paradox
If there was one thing that Harry Potter had come to realise in the years since he found out he was a wizard, it was that he was hopeless at studying.
When he attended Muggle schools, he’d never had a problem; in fact he spent much of his time in the library because it was the one place Dudley was guaranteed not to be. He enjoyed storybooks and had devoured most of the fiction section, and even quite enjoyed all the other books, especially ones with photographs of far-away places.
But the moment he’d stepped into the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, studying had become difficult. Most of the books were old and staid, and about as interesting as watching paint dry. And while the language they were written in was often English, it was a version he struggled to understand.
This was why he didn’t know much about the Veela because all the books about them were full of long complicated names and histories of someone begetting someone else.
So, when Justin Finch-Fletchley told him that Draco Malfoy (who Harry had fallen head over broomstick in love with) had been married to a Veela, Harry had made immediate assumptions about just what that might mean.
He’d quickly got rid of Justin, using some wordless magic he’d devised with Brenda. The magic would ring a small bell on her desk and five minutes later she would knock on the door and remind him of an appointment he needed to be at.
Now he was back in Ottery St Catchpole at Ron’s house trying to make some sense of the way Hermione had arranged her rather spectacular collection of books. Ron had told him more than once that his wife’s ambition was to become Head Librarian at Hogwarts and with Madam Pince finally retiring at the end of the current school year, Ron was worried she might finally get her wish.
Justin’s ‘proof’ had consisted of a few unsubstantiated stories and a rather bad copy of what might have been Draco’s marriage certificate. It didn’t help that it was in a Finnish dialect that, according to one of Hermione’s book, was based on an ancient Veela language. Draco’s wife seemed to be called Joukahainen or something like that -- the lettering bled into the paper and was smudged, like a Muggle document that had been photocopied and then the copy copied and that copy copied until it was all blurred.
He was over the initial shock of Justin’s revelations now but the questions just kept running round and round his mind. Sat at the oak table he’d given Ron and Hermione as one of their wedding presents, Harry glanced absently at the books surrounding him and once again berated himself for his lack of research skills. He’d written down some questions in an attempt to work out just what he was looking for.
Do Veela marry wizards?
The answer to that one was obvious -- Bill Weasley was married to Fleur, and her grandmother was a Veela.
Was it true that Veela bonded for life?
That one scared him. There was something in one of the books about bond-mates dying because their partners had died. Was that Bill’s fate? He remembered there are been some special vows during Bill and Fleur’s wedding in a language he hadn’t understood. Had those vows been some sort of Veela bonding, or had there been another ceremony?
Was Draco, the archetypical pure-blood wizard actually part-Veela? And, if so, on which side of his family?
It seemed almost impossible to imagine Veela blood on the Malfoy side; Lucius Malfoy had been so caught up in pure-blood supremacy that the idea his family might be tainted seemed almost out of the question. So could it be Narcissa’s family?
Harry frowned. That would mean the Black family had Veela ancestry. It might, he considered, explain why Narcissa had such classic Veela colouring -- she carried the gene while her dark-haired sister Bellatrix didn’t and had passed it onto Draco.
But would Lucius have married her if he’d known?
He stared out of the window. If Draco was part-Veela, did that explain why he’d fallen in love so quickly with the man? He remembered the way he’d reacted to the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup, but they’d been female. And while Fleur had some sort of effect on males, she certainly didn’t do the same for females. Hadn’t Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley been very much against her relationship with Bill? Maybe that had nothing to do with Fleur being a Veela but more because they didn’t want her to marry Bill.
So, female Veela made human men act stupidly. Did girls act the same with male Veela?
Would a gay man react to a male Veela? And if he’d always been gay, then why had he reacted to female Veela?
Harry sighed and pushed a hand through his already messy hair. He wasn’t happy about the idea that his obsession with Draco might not be due to the fact he was in love with Draco but because of some Veela effect influencing him. The time he’d spent with Draco over the last few days had been wonderful and he was desperate for more of the same.
More of those sensual kisses and more touches and more of just the way it felt to be with Draco. But he didn’t want any of that if some outside influence was making him fall in love.
Harry closed the heavy tome in front of him, the action sending a flurry of dust into the air. He needed to talk to Draco.
****
The late winter sunshine was pleasantly warm as Harry strode through the village. He wasn’t expecting Draco to be at home in the middle of the day, but he was so hyped up now that if he didn’t at least try to speak to the man, he knew he would regret it.
Squirrel’s Leap was on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. It was a beautiful white-walled thatched cottage, the sort one often saw on the front of chocolate boxes. The small front garden with full of roses and even had a rose-covered arch over the gate, while the large rear garden lead down to a small orchard and the banks of the River Otter.
As he neared the cottage, Harry reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the folded marriage certificate. He’d wondered whether to show it to Draco straight away, but then he would have to explain how he'd got it and he was quite sure Draco would be very offended to find out that a private detective had been asking questions about him.
He came to an abrupt halt as the crack of someone Apparating filled the air. It wasn’t so much the sound he heard but an airblast of magic rolling towards him. Old war-worn reactions kicked in and wand automatically in his hand, he tried to find the location and realised that a very beautiful woman was standing beside the gate outside of Squirrel’s Leap. She had long blonde hair reaching almost to her waist.
Pushing back into the shadows of a hedge, Harry watched as Arlen rushed down the garden path and threw himself into the woman’s arms. The boy was followed by Draco who was walking at a much more leisurely pace. Harry’s face fell as he saw the way Draco smiled at the woman.
As Draco kissed her on the cheek and pulled her into a familiar hug, Harry backed away, desperate to be anywhere but here.
What a fool he’d been to think someone like Draco would want him.
---
Chapter Seven ... Secrets and Lies