The Way of the Veela

Title: The Way of the Veela
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Nymphadora Tonks/Gabrielle Delacour, implied Tonks/Olympe
Summary: For the first time, Tonks feels herself being lured away from her wholesome love…
Rating: PG-13/light R for themes
Warnings: Femmeslash, pre-chan, angst, implied character deaths (not main), AU
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Word Count: 1,038
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K Rowling. I made this little ficlet up. And I am not suggesting that girls this young are naturally seductive in Real Life – there are no such entities as Veela, after all.

“… the little deadly demon among the wholesome children; she stands unrecognised by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.”

- Humbert Humbert in “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov

You had expected to be many things by the end of the war; battle-scarred and weary, certainly, which you are. Being no longer physically fit enough to be an Auror was not on your set of plans for the future, but you are still more fortunate than many of your friends from the Order of the Phoenix who did not survive the second great battle with the Dark Lord.
And you are, of course, so lucky to have found that elusive thing that seemed to have evaded you in your days of playful girlhood and fresh, youthful good looks (for although you sti still young in years, you feel yourself to have aged considerably due to the hardships of war) – the love of a good woman. From the very first you were drawn to Olympe Maxime, with her regal bearing and her stout-hearted courage in the face of the most arcane and virulent of dangers. Neither soul-sucking Dementors nor ferocious, towering giants could ever best this determined lady. She was not only an asset to the Order during the war, but in your conflict-weary eyes and your heart that longed for peace and safety, your personal saviour. Her unruffled, poised demeanour in the public eye and boundless sensuous affections in the boudoir are enchantments more powerful than any love philtre or charm. From the very first moment that Olympe turned her attentions toward you, everything that you were and would become was hers.

Through Olympe, you found a new place in the world, teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Beauxbatons, where your beloved still holds sway as Headmistress. And it was with your lover that you embarked on one of life’s most intense adventures, an experience you believed would never be your lot in life, given your romantic preference for women and your distaste in younger years for the idea of child-raising.

You and Olympe became adoptive mothers overnight; the little sister of Fleur Delacour, a former pupil of Olympe’s, was found in an orphanage alongside many other young witches and wizards who were bereft of family due to Voldemort. Little Gabrielle’s parents and sister were missing or dead, and nobody had claimed her for several months. So you found yourself learning how to care for a child, studying at the side of Olympe, the long-time expert at handling and guiding young lives. And as you believed would happen, both you and Olympe came to adore little Gabrielle. She is such a gentle child, keen of intelligence yet obedient to a fault, able to distinguish and move comfortably between the formalities of the schoolroom environment and the loving surroundings of her home life with ‘Maman Olympe’ and ‘Maman Tonks’, her devoted mothers and besotted servitors who cater to her every whim.

The little angel Gabrielle… she is not growing upilt ilt or petulant, as any other youngster might in such an atmosphere of being cosseted and treasured, but remains soft and malleable, the very picture of innocence. And yet there is something about the girl, something in the way she touches your face with her pale and slender hands, the way she speaks and casts those velvety blue eyes upon your face, that is neither childlike nor naive, but hints at an ancient, sensual knowing.

With Olympe’s greater burden of responsibility in running the school, most of the daily tasks in caring for Gabrielle have fallen to you. Although she is a first-year pupil now, she still sleeps in her own little room, located in the wing of the Palace of Beauxbatons that serves as private quarters to Olympe and yourself, and not in the dormitory with other little girls. She still likes you to read to her and help her bathe, and you, entranced by her sweetness, do not have the heart to tell her that she is more than old enough to do all of this for herself.

Olympe had told you ages ago that there was Veela blood in the child; perhaps this accounts for the unconscious seductiveness with which she nestles against you and begs for kisses. You try to keep these kisses as innocent as possible, merely brushing your lips over her cheek, but again and again you find the small blond head turning to press her cupid-bow mouth upon your own stunned lips, and your ears are filled with the tinkle of silvery laughter as her warm blue gaze registers the shocked expression on your face, the blush of recognition, shame and suppressed longing.

You have never been drawn to a girl this young before; in the days before Gabrielle, you would have been horrified and enraged if any person had suggested that you had such a predilection. All the women you had pouslously desired had been of a respectable age, usually many years your senior, just like your precious Olympe. The woman you still think of as your soul-mate; guilt floods over you in a tide each time you are distracted by a swirl of white-blonde hair, the fluttering of pale eyelashes or the unconsciously elegant pose of a slim little foot. You love Olympe without reserve, but each time you close your eyes you smell the delicate scent of warm childish skin, and hear the breathy whisper of little French love-words from angelic, baby-soft lips.

They mature early, these girls with Veela blood. You know this from books and from Olympe’s sage advice. Whether they focus their attentions on men or women, their allure is irresistible to the object of their passions.

Gabrielle’s extreme youth has kept your affections for her righteous and unblemished by libidinous acts thus far. But when she enters puberty, in two years or maybe less, will you still be able to keep up the veil of maternal authority and moral fortitude that has kept your tenderness towards her pure?

Each day you struggle with temptation, determined not to succumb to those caresses and those eyes. Keeping the image of Olympe as a flame alive in your heart, you wonder in your throes of carnal misery and forbidden fantasies if Olympe has ever been held in thrall by a part-Veela child, either this one, your adopted daughter, or her late sister many years ago.

~ Fin.