A Veela's Guide

Inheritance

 "You must know that you are not the first Veela to successfully attend Hogwarts," Dumbledore said to Draco Malfoy, who was extremely bored with the forced conversation in his office, "because your father also graduated of course and he was the one that passed this trait down to you. It won't affect your studies or your day-to-day life if you take control of it and embrace it. I hold no prejudice and I'd like to let you know that I am always here to talk, and I assure you so is your head of house."

Draco internally scoffed, Talk to that greasy furball? He may be my godfather, but I'd rather share my feelings with Tom Riddle's diary than confide in him.

"...another important thing, before you leave for the feast, is that you must tell Professor Snape who your mate is as soon as you know. I understand that it's a personal process, but as we are your guardians while you are at school, we have a duty to protect you from yourself. Do you understand, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, clearly trying to be as sensitive as possible.

"Yes," Draco replied flatly.

"Good. I won't hold you any longer, go enjoy the beginning of term feast. I'll be there shortly."

Malfoy trudged down the spiral staircase of the headmaster's office and walked through the corridors. The summer before school had possibly been the worst couple weeks of his life and the normalcy of the halls provided him with a small bit of comfort.

He remembered the night that he woke up with unbearable pain in his upper back like someone was performing the Crucio curse on only one section of his body. Sweat dripped down his face as he screamed in agony. His father nonchalantly walked into his room and give him the most disgusted look, only to turn around a minute later and bring his wife into the room with him. They gawked at him like an animal on display at a muggle zoo, not offering the least bit of sympathy as he felt like he was about to die. His father had simply told him that he's come into his "inheritance" and threw a book onto his bed while he was still panting from the pressure of his back. Once the pain had subsided, he was horrified.

His reflection showed two great, black wings sprouted from his upper back spanning around a meter. They fluttered at the slightest touch and caused Draco to want to break the mirror showing him a creature that simply wasn't him. Under further inspection, his new reflection seemed to be perfected. Carved like a Roman sculpture. His pimples were nonexistent, his jawline sharper, eyes brighter, hair shinier. It seemed that his father knew that this would happen, though, from the book that he had so offhandedly given him.

The book titled A Veela's Guide was older than him and had several tears in it. Draco had spent all summer reading and re-reading it in his usual obsessive manner. Every sentence he read in it scared him more because he found himself relating to the condition that was described in the text. Most Veelas were blonde (check), had never experienced romantic attraction before (hard to admit, but check), grew large wings at around the age of 16 (definitely), and developed an "alluring physical appearance" overnight (check). The worst part about the book was the future that it detailed. He would have to find a mate that he could protect to accept him, a forever partner, in the next year or he would slowly die from the lack of love. That particular part made him almost go into a panic attack. How the fuck was he supposed to find a mate in the next year? Draco was sure he would die. 

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