Complications

Draco Malfoy woke up.

Now, this may not seem very important, but I assure you; if Draco Malfoy had not woken up that morning, things would have been significantly different.

His keen, grey eyes opened and for a moment he just stared at the ceiling, unmoving. He gathered his thoughts. What day was it? Oh, yes, it was his seventeenth birthday. How nice. What time was it? He made the effort to shift his eyes to the right to glance at the clock. 'Time to get up', then. Well, that was enough of thinking until he got something warm into his system.

He swung his legs off the bed, dejectedly pulling the warm blankets from his pale, naked chest. He groggily stood and began walking out of his room, absent-mindedly grabbing a plain black robe and tossing it over his nearly bare form.

He made his way down the stairs and to the dining room. Like everywhere in the Malfoy Manor, it was very impressive, decorated nearly entirely in black and white marble. If Draco had been more coherent he would have mused that he probably looked out of place, sprawling on the elegant, high-backed, black chair with his white-blond hair uncombed and mussed with sleep and his robe slightly askew.

"Hot chocolate, Tinky," he muttered.

He was rewarded with a small "Yes, Master Draco," and a minute later a steaming mug appeared before him.

He slouched forward and breathed in the scent. He could feel himself beginning to wake up. He took a sip, letting the rich warmth flow easily across his taste-buds and down his throat. Ahh, hot chocolate was magic. When Draco took over the world he'd make sure everyone knew it.

He took a bigger sip and began to feel like himself again. He posture corrected itself and his lips unconsciously took on a smirking quality. He began sorting out the day ahead in his mind. His father would probably have some grotesquely expensive gift for him when he got home from work, but that wasn't until the evening. His mother would give him the Ceremonial Birthday Kiss on the Cheek after lunch, but that wasn't for several hours.

In fact, his mother wasn't even home, judging by the fact that she wasn't having her usual tea by the fireplace. Chances were that she was off having tea with the Bulstrodes or some such. Draco's smirk widened. That meant that, other than some scattered house-elves, Draco had the whole of Malfoy Manor to himself for several hours.

Several hours later found Draco in the library, sprawled at the feet of an elegant, beastly uncomfortable sofa, book in hand. Most of the people who had met Draco would not expect his academic interests to be genuine, that he studied exclusively for the name of having good grades, and that suited him fine. While it was true that he had no interest whatever in magical creatures, much less how to care for them, or ancient runes, or transfiguration, the world of potions honestly fascinated him. The way different ingredients reacted in certain preparations to create intense magical effects had always been an interest, something of a passion, of his. Unlike many of the current 'big names' in potions, he spent little to no time concerning himself about the medical uses of potions. Save a life, whatever; it was all the complex art and science of it to him. On some days when he was alone he would experiment concocting things in an unused wing of the house, but other times, like this one, he would study.

Happily, his mother still hadn't arrived home by lunchtime and he was able to dine in solitude, uninterrupted in the library. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against that elegant sofa. He had a three-foot sheet of parchment on his left, a stack of valuable, first-edition potions books on his right, The Last Word in Potions Ingredients by Shardock Sirenson open on the floor in front of him for reference, and Modern Potions Theory in a Way that is Useful, To-the-Point, and Not Written With the Aim of Putting You to Sleep by Eighth Terrence in his lap.

His grey eyes slightly narrowed as he scanned the page, soaking in every word, his mind instantly sorting out the unimportant bits and committing everything else to memory. 'Hmm, powdered dragon scales... "React strongly to minute amounts of crystallized pixie wings"...affect could probably be tempered with addition of dragons' blood. Would probably create a substance-altering-type solution, I'll have to... Go to bed...'

Draco yawned and pushed the book off his lap, bringing up one hand to massage the bridge of his nose. Somewhere along the line he must have started to get tired. Well, he'd be of no use to his research until he regained his energy. He stood up and started towards his room, Vanishing his research materials for the time being with a flick of his wand.

When he reached his room, he threw himself on his dark green and silver, four-poster bed. He settled himself on the pillows and closed his eyes, letting himself relax with a sigh. He let his mind wander and found himself inexplicably thinking of Hermione Granger.

Now there was a witch that was out to make things difficult for him. It seemed like everything the uppity little mudblood did was done with the express aim of annoying him, aggravating him, or humiliating him. Did the foolish little girl even know how hard he had to work to keep his scores on level with hers? She pretended she didn't care. Did she care that she was defying all the Way of Things by surpassing such a huge percentage of pure-bloods? No!

Whenever he saw her, since the first day he met her, he always felt a strong urge to comment on her heritage, argue with her, hex her, sneer at her, anything. It really rubbed him the wrong way when she ignored him. After all, he was Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy line, Slytherin Prince, Hogwarts heartthrob, powerful pure-blooded wizard, and what was she?

He suddenly began to feel very odd, and twice as tired. His head began to cloud, his teeth began to hurt. Something seemed to be very wrong. He struggled to open his eyes, to sit up, to reach for his wand, but he'd barely moved before his body went limp.

As Draco's body lay unconscious on his bed, a part of his mind that he'd never noticed before rose up, overthrowing all normal thought, and began looking. He became consumed with a powerful kind of desire he'd never felt before. Almost feverishly his mind scoured the world, feeling through the millions of souls, looking for that one person, that person that was so important.

And then he found her. He couldn't see her, not in any normal way, but he could feel her. She was asleep and she was far too far away from him for his liking. But he still didn't know exactly who she was, or if he did know he was denying it to a point that he couldn't tell. But he could imagine so clearly her scent, spicy ginger over sweet vanilla and something uniquely her. He wished so hard that he could actually smell it...

His mind tore away from her and he gasped as he re-entered his body. In one quick movement, he sat up straight and touched a hand to his cheek. While his mind had clouded minutes before, now he was seeing everything with incredible clarity. He felt different, as if he'd quite suddenly turned a page or removed a veil. In a way it felt as if it wasn't quite real. He vision had improved, his sense of smell was incredibly strong, he could hear the small footsteps of the house-elves downstairs beginning work on supper. Even more than that, he felt distinctly... Older, more matured, more powerful, less like a kid, more in control, none of those seemed quite right. And even more than that he felt a keen awareness that she wasn't there.

She ought to be here, she's been meant to be here since the beginning of Magic. She is mine.

An hour later, Draco stepped from the shower, drying the worst of the water from his hair with a towel. He hung the towel around his hips and grabbed a comb. His hand faltered as he looked at the mirror. He sighed and dropped the comb, broodingly taking in his new appearance for the twentieth time. Oh, he supposed that someone who didn't know him well might not notice it unless it was pointed out, but it seemed blatantly obvious to him.

His skin, always pale and blemish-free, was now a bit paler and completely flawless. His hair suddenly had a more lush appearance than before, and he suspected that it had grown a tad. His eyes seemed to gently swirl with color, and he worried that they would sometimes change color. All of the features on his face seemed to have a slight graceful slant that hadn't been there before. His ears were ever-so-slightly pointed. He had fangs!

And that wasn't even mentioning the changes to his body. Every change that occurred was subtle in and of itself (except perhaps the fangs), but all together he wasn't so certain that the Draco Malfoy looking back at him was the same one he knew and loved. Everything was made a bit more difficult by the fact that she wasn't there. The need had dampened from the time he'd first woken up, but it never stopped. It gently ate away at the back of his mind and it was impossible to completely ignore.

Draco picked up the comb again and turned away from the mirror. But he wouldn't let this completely disrupt his life. He was better than that; he was a Malfoy. He could tamp down any inconvenient instincts. First things first, he needed to find out what had happened, why it had happened, who did it to him, and who she was. Hopefully then he'd find out how to reverse it.

Draco stormed down to the library in a swirl of black and silver robes. He scanned a few shelves before pulling out Something Strange Is Going On and I Don't Know What: Answers and Advice for Times When You Wake Up and You're Purple (Or Something). It was as good a place to start as any.

He sat on the elegant sofa, posture rigidly straight, and glared down at the open book. He felt like he was
getting more pissed by the moment. He began racing through the book, briefly scanning the pages for anything that might apply to what had happened to him.

A few minutes later he sighed and slouched against the hard back of the sofa. Being so tense took a lot of energy. Who knew how long this would take or how long he had before his parents came home? He needed to do this the right way.

"Tinky!"

The little house-elf appeared a moment later. "Yes, Master Draco?"

"Hot chocolate, a pot of it," he ordered and, as an after thought, "and three pillows."

Draco sipped from his third mug of hot chocolate. So far things were looking grim. He was ninety-percent sure that he was an awakened veela.

He put down his mug and got up to return the book he had just been reading. Next stop: the family records. If there was any veela blood on either side of the family, then that would cork it.

The only thing was, if awakening as a veela was a possibility, shouldn't his parents have told him before this? Well, it didn't much matter at that point. He lugged the two heavy volumes labeled The Malfoy Family and The Black Family back to his hard, uncomfortable, but pillow-laden sofa. He'd start with the closest ancestors on both sides and work backwards. Only fifteen minutes later he found it; his great-great-grandfather, Riddance Malfoy had been an awakened veela.

Draco stared dumbly at the page. He read on and found out that first veela in the Malfoy family was eleven generations ago when a female veela married his ancestor. Ever since then, every couple of generations a Malfoy 'awakened'.

It was just beginning to settle in to Draco. This was a turning point that he'd never be able to recover from. He didn't know much about veela, but he knew that he needed her, his mate, if he was going to have a life worth living.

He felt his possessive instincts rise up again and half-surprised himself by growling low in his throat. He didn't even know who she was, but he was already becoming obsessed with her. Chances were that it would get worse before it got better.

"Hermione, dinner!" called her mother from the kitchen.

Hermione reluctantly pulled herself from her drowse and sat up, stretching. "I'll be there in a minute, Mum!"

Heh, when had she gotten so lazy? Taking naps in the middle of the day? She would never have gotten away with it back at Hogwarts. But that nap had been a very nice nap. She must have had some sort of dream because she remembered feeling a male presence around her. It was a very nice, warm feeling, but it left her a bit wistful.

She frowned slightly, furrowing her brows as she yawned again. It was a very unusual kind of dream for her. She kind of wished it would happen more often...

"Hermione?"

Hermione snapped back to reality at her mother's voice. "Coming! Sorry!"

Next chapter: the Hogwarts Express!

I'm very open to suggestion about what you guys would like in the story. I mean, I have a starting point and (mostly) an ending point clear in my head, along with several plans for the middle, but not much is concrete yet.

What do you like? What do you not like? Also, please report any typos, this is not beta'd.

I'll update when I can, but I truly never know when Real Life will rear its ugly head. Reviews help to get the creative juices flowing.

And no worries, Draco will very soon be back to the smirking, sexy, possessive Slytherin we know and love. After all, possessive veela!Draco is my favorite. *licks lips* XD

Note: I got the name “Tinky” for the Malfoy Manor house-elf from Beautiful Disaster by Ashleyfanfic! Go read it if you haven't already.