Veela Magic

Chapter 4: Soulmate Bled

Turn me on take me for a hard ride

Burn me out leave me on the other side

I yell and tell it that it's not my friend

I tear it down I tear it down

And then it's born again

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Draco was brushing his hair when he heard a faint tapping at his bedroom window. He walked over to open it, brush still in hand, and let the owl in.

When he saw that it was his father's personal owl, Draco had to resist the urge to smack it with his hairbrush, just like those cricketers the Muggle-born talked about sometimes, and send the owl away stunned and helpless.

But then the owl might be found, and with it the message it carried. Draco sighed, and put down the brush. He carefully unrolled the tiny scroll and read his father's words.

It was a short message. Draco read it with teeth clenched, feeling the blood rush to his head as he read the last line. First he picked up his hairbrush again, and threw it against the wall as hard as he could. Then he took the message itself and started ripping it up, before stuffing it into his mouth. He liked to feel his teeth tearing at the paper, shredding his father's orders. But the neat handwriting and stark words remained as if suspended before Draco's eyes.

Draco-

I have spoken to our Master about his plan for the destruction of Hogwarts, and secured you a role in the sabotage of its defences. I can reveal no more now, but rest assured that Harry Potter will receive a suitable punishment for his opposition - but not just yet. On the day of victory, my son, you will be the instrument of his death.

Draco paced up and down the room, wall to wall and back again, gaining speed with each crossing. He took a certain satisfaction in flinging himself against the wall each time and turning sharply to hurl himself at the wall opposite. Only concentrate on this, and other thoughts can be drowned out... He heard a low, fierce muttering and realised it was his own voice.

"Fucker."

"How dare he?"

"Year after year, making me give in, leaving me just one step behind him all the time, always having to follow whatever he sets..."

"I wish he were dead."

"I thought I didn't have to deal with him anymore."

"Well, I do. And I want to. I'm going to prove myself to him once and for all."

"He'll get what's coming to him. I don't care what I have to do."

Draco stumbled out of his room, robes askew and a trace of ink still visible on his lips. He was going to go to today's Quidditch match, he wasn't going to let a little thing like this stop him. He was the Slytherin Seeker, after all. Damn it, he was the Seeker, the best Seeker, and he was going to prove it this year. Draco would go to the match, and learn the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tactics so they wouldn't have a chance of surprising him later, and then he was going to win.

Draco broke into a run, finding release in hurtling through the halls. And then he turned a corner and collided headlong with Harry Potter.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry arrived at the Quidditch pitch early. It was the first game of the season, and all the Gryffindor team, as well as most of Gryffindor House, were arriving to watch Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff. Angelina Johnson had been unanimously voted in as the new Gryffindor Captain, and Seamus Finnigan had become their new Keeper after a series of tryouts. (Seamus claimed that his Quidditch skills came from a childhood spent retrieving pots of gold from fairy rings high up in the Wicklow Mountains. Harry wasn't entirely certain he believed this story.) Nevertheless, Seamus showed great promise, and Harry was confident that the new Gryffindor team had a fair chance at this year's Quidditch Cup. Provided, of course, that they could manage to stay away from Professor Trelawney, who seemed eager to acquaint the team with all the dangers Quidditch held for them. Katie Bell had already suffered half an hour trapped in the Divinations classroom while the diminutive Head of Gryffindor described a vision she'd had of a Bludger knocking Katie clean off her broom fifty feet above the ground. Harry had skipped Divinations the day after that, fearing an encore.

It was a good day for Quidditch - little wind, and a sun that was bright without overheating the players. The match was due to start in ten minutes, and Harry took his seat in the Gryffindor stands. Where was Ron? He'd saved him a seat, as usual, but he didn't seem to be anywhere nearby. Maybe he was with Hermione - she'd decided not to come to the match, as Gryffindor weren't playing and she had a lot of Arithmancy homework to do. He'd probably turn up just in time.

Was that a flash of Weasley red at the edge of the pitch? Harry craned his neck, looking for Ron. Yes, there he was - walking to the stands with Fleur Delacour, in fact. Harry couldn't see their faces, but there was no mistaking Ron's bright hair and Fleur's graceful, arrogant stride. Where on earth had they been together? Ron had sloped off after breakfast, muttering something about an owl... he must have gone to meet Fleur. Harry frowned. Why hadn't Ron told him where he was going? It wasn't as if he would have minded.

Ron was walking to the Ravenclaw stands with Fleur! Harry couldn't quite believe it. Ron hadn't even glanced his way the whole time! And now he was going to watch the match with Fleur as if Harry had never saved him a seat, as if he didn't always watch Quidditch with Harry.

Harry slumped down in his seat, painfully aware of the empty one next to him. All around him, the Gryffindors were cheering and yelling - some supported Ravenclaw and some Hufflepuff, but it was all in the spirit of friendly competition.

Hurry up and start the game, thought Harry.

Madam Hooch strode onto the field, holding her magical megaphone, but there was no sign of the teams. She held up the megaphone and directed it at the Ravenclaw stands.

"My apologies to all the spectators, but it seems that we are missing our Ravenclaw Seeker," Madam Hooch announced in an irritated voice. "The Ravenclaw captain has only now seen fit to inform me of this. It appears that we will have to delay the game - can any friends of Cho Chang volunteer to go look for her?"

Harry stood up. Cho must be upset! "I'll go!" he shouted, not caring that Madam Hooch probably couldn't hear him. He ran down to the field, waved at her, and headed for the school. Some of his schoolmates watched him in bemusement as he hurried past.

Harry entered the near-deserted building red-faced and breathless. He was worried about Cho - what if she couldn't face the game any more? What if she was crying somewhere, and it was all his fault? He had to find her, and comfort her, and bring her back. Harry took a deep breath, and set off running toward the Ravenclaw common room. He couldn't think of anywhere else Cho might be.

Up the rising corridor, down the staircase with two trick steps, past the Slytherin dungeons...

Harry had just time enough to register that he'd gone the wrong way when Draco Malfoy came barrelling round a corner and ran smack into him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The two boys collapsed onto the floor together, Malfoy lying heavily across Harry's leg. Before Harry had a chance to say a word, Malfoy raised his head over Harry's and yelled, "What the hell are you doing here, Potter?"

"Me?" protested Harry. "I'm not the one running down the corridors like a crazed lunatic. You could have broken my leg! Get off me!"

Malfoy made no move to get off Harry. "I want to know what you're doing in Slytherin territory, Potter," he growled. Malfoy's hair was tickling Harry's face; it was sweaty from his run through the corridors.

"Get that girly hair of yours out of my face and you can interrogate me all you like," Harry grunted. He saw Malfoy's grey eyes widen and added, "Actually, no you can't. But if you don't move in a second I'm going to punch your lights out."

Malfoy snorted. "I don't think you're in much of a position to be making threats right now." He illustrated this point by digging his elbow into Harry's ribcage. "Now, what are you doing here?" A sly grin crossed Malfoy's face. "Shouldn't you be watching that pretty girlfriend of yours play Quidditch? Oh no, wait a minute - she's not your girlfriend, and she never will be. My mistake."

Harry snarled, and managed to get one arm free. And then he did punch Malfoy's lights out.

Or rather, that was the plan. He felt his fist connect sharply with Malfoy's nose, and sat up, but then his hands were sharply pinioned behind his back. And Malfoy slammed him into the stone floor.

Harry looked up, dazed, and saw Malfoy, his pale face flushed, raising a fist. Harry rolled away just in time, and Malfoy's fist hit the ground. "Shit!" he exclaimed. Harry gave a low chuckle, and yanked Malfoy's head back by his long blond hair. He smashed his fist against that perfectly ruthless expression.

Malfoy recovered quickly and brought Harry down with a well-placed punch to the stomach. Harry gasped, and Malfoy pinioned him again, a feral glint in his eyes.

"And so the virtuous Harry Potter likes playing dirty as much as the next man? Well, I can't say I hadn't noticed before."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry spat.

"Such a temper! What on earth would your prissy little Mudblood friend have to say about it? Why..." Malfoy said, grinning, "you fight with an almost... murderous frenzy, Potter. Hasn't anybody noticed?"

Harry brought his knee up against Malfoy's groin. He saw a brief look of agony cross Malfoy's face, before it was replaced by a malevolent satisfaction.

"That's more like it, Potter," Malfoy hissed. His pale eyes were bloodshot now, and seemed very large. His fingers closed over Harry's throat, and he whispered, "Fight dirty. Fight to win. You might have to let go of a few principles and a few friends, but you'll get so many wonderful new enemies..."

My wand, Harry was thinking. I left my wand in the stands. All he could see was Malfoy, and all he could feel was Malfoy's hot breath on his face, and Malfoy's fingers tight around his throat...

"Wondering if I'm going to kill you, Potter?" Malfoy asked, chuckling. "Oh, but how could I? There's just no fun killing something that doesn't fight back, Potter, do you know that? Lying there with its fucking wounded nobility..." Malfoy was getting agitated again. "You're pathetic, Potter!" he screamed. "Pathetic! You can't even fight properly!"

Malfoy suddenly leapt to his feet. "Go on! Try to hurt me!"

Harry pulled himself over to a wall, massaging his throat. He wasn't going to go anywhere near Malfoy, not in the state he was in now.

"Try your worst," Malfoy said softly, his hair shining like a demonic torch. "Try to kill me like you killed Diggory. Show your true colours for once."

Harry had hurled himself across the corridor and thrown Malfoy savagely to the ground almost before he knew he'd moved. Malfoy lay spread-eagled on the ground, blood streaming from one ear. Harry watched him, dazed, and just as he began to feel the blood pooling in his own shirt collar, Malfoy said to him in a quiet, reflective voice: "Very good, Potter. You've made things a great deal easier for me."

The victor and the vanquished (but were they? Harry thought dimly) were interrupted in their frozen tableau by the arrival of Professor Snape.

"I'm sure your explanation of this little scene will be very interesting, Mr. Potter - Potter, what have you done!" Snape exclaimed as he saw Malfoy's bloodied face. He ran over to Malfoy and gently raised his head. "Malfoy, are you all right? Can you hear me?"

I got hurt too, Harry thought resentfully. He was used to Snape's blatant favouritism by now, but this was going a bit too far. Still, he couldn't help but feel guilty as he watched Malfoy. A trickle of blood was slowly staining Malfoy's hair, and there were unsightly red blotches on his cheekbones. Harry looked away, ashen-faced. He got me so angry. I was angrier than I've been in so long - angrier even than I was in that graveyard...I wanted to pound the life out of him until he stopped talking like that, holding me down like that...

Suddenly, Harry remembered a time when he had felt this angry before. He had been ten years old. It was before he became The Boy Who Lived, when he was just a strange, unhappy boy with a cupboard for a home and two dead strangers for a family. Dudley had come into his cupboard, like he often did when he wanted to torment Harry. Usually, he tried to make Harry jealous of Dudley's big, comfortable bedroom upstairs, and went away after Harry failed to show any interest. But this time he wore a fat, self-satisfied smile, and announced: "Daddy says your mum and dad are lucky."

Harry had stared at him, and said slowly, feeling a strange kind of hope, "Lucky? How?"

Dudley had grinned again. "Because they never had to bring you up. Daddy just said 'Those lazy Potters are probably thanking their lucky stars right now they got killed when they did.' He said they must be thinking it's great up in Heaven without Harry."

"I see," Harry had responded, his voice taut as a string about to break.

And then he had launched himself at Dudley and bitten him in the throat. And as Dudley squealed like a stuck pig, helpless for once, Harry had kicked him and scratched him and tried to gouge his eyes out. Harry might have been small, but it took both the Dursleys to pull him off Dudley that day. He hadn't been given any supper for a week.

Harry remembered being locked in his cupboard, hungry, but still possessed by that cold fury, and thinking... It was worth it.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape's anger was palpable. "Would you care to explain why you viciously attacked Mr. Malfoy?"

"I..."

"Potter hit me for no reason at all," Malfoy chimed in wearily, still lying on the floor. "I tried to defend myself and then he got savage and started trying to kill me."

"I did not!" Harry protested. "Well, I did hit him first... but he started it!"

Snape smiled thinly. "A likely story. Malfoy, what on earth is Potter talking about?"

"I mentioned a few home truths about his lack of success with the ladies," Malfoy answered, smirking. "Potter got quite enraged - I think he was trying to prove his masculinity or something." Malfoy sighed. "I'm sure you know how these Gryffindors are, Professor. It's a trial having to deal with them."

"It certainly is," agreed Snape. He looked thoughtfully at Malfoy. "You should go straight to the infirmary, Malfoy - I'm sure your injuries will require immediate attention. Do you need me to conjure a stretcher?"

"I don't want to bother you, Professor," Malfoy said with an infuriatingly brave smile. "I can make my own way there."

"Good. Do inform me if these injuries Potter has inflicted upon you are not healed immediately."

Snape turned his glittering black eyes on Harry after Malfoy had made a show of limping out.

"As for you, Mr. Potter - fifty points from Gryffindor. And detention."

Snape didn't hear a thing Malfoy said to me. He doesn't know why I hit Malfoy, and he doesn't give a damn that Malfoy hit me. "Fine. Can I get the injuries that Malfoy inflicted on me healed, too? Or is that part of the punishment?" Harry indicated the blood on his collar.

"A further five points for insolence, I think. And you may go to the infirmary once Mr. Malfoy is safely on his way. I certainly can't have you attacking him again."

"Right. I'll just sit here in the corner and think about what I've done then, shall I?" Harry glared at Snape, not really caring if more points were taken off. Then he leaned against the wall, pretending Snape wasn't there, and buried his head in his hands.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Cho took to the air shakily, painfully conscious of Madam Hooch's glare. She'd lost track of time somehow, that morning - she hadn't realised how late it was. And she'd held the whole Quidditch match up!

The spectators were staring at her. Cho gulped, and drove her broom straight up into the air. She could stay here, far away from the other players, and from the watchers in the stands, and keep an eye out for the Snitch.

All she wanted was for this game to be over. Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff - oh, why did Ravenclaw's first match of the season have to be against Hufflepuff? Looking at the bright yellow streaks far below her, zipping here and there in chase of the Quaffle, all she could think about were the times she and Cedric had played together. She remembered visiting the Diggorys the summer before last, just before she and Cedric had started to go out together. She remembered holding Cedric's hand as they rose into the air, before they broke apart and searched for the Snitch. She remembered the fierce rush of joy the first time she had beaten Cedric, and the extravagant kiss he'd blown her in mid-air as she grasped the tiny winged sphere.

She remembered Cedric's dream to be Seeker for England, and the feeling she'd had that just maybe, he could do it - that nothing could stop Cedric, if he truly believed in something. She remembered watching his graceful body drift lightly through the air on his broom as he flew for pure fun. She remembered flying in circles around him, reaching in to tickle him and then flying away before he could catch her.

She remembered the first kiss he had given her, in the first term of her fifth year, before he'd been chosen as Hogwarts Champion. There might have been no Quidditch Cup that year, but Cedric still practised every weekend. One morning, she had slipped out of her dormitory before dawn and come to watch him. She'd been shy - he was older than her, after all, and there seemed to be so many pretty girls in his classes, and they hadn't seen much of one another since the summer - and she'd tried to be unobtrusive. But he'd seen her right away, and curved down to her as the wind whistled through his hair.

"Want a ride?" he'd asked, grinning, and she'd said yes and climbed onto the back of his broom and held him very tightly.

He'd glided away with her, climbing in long, lazy spirals. And she'd laid her head on his shoulder and he'd raised a hand to stroke her cheek and then he'd said: "You know, we should fly away together more often."

And then he'd kissed her. And she'd run her fingers through his lovely thick hair and wished desperately that she could stay exactly where she was with him forever.

Once the Triwizard Tournament began, she hadn't been able to spend nearly as much time with him. He'd promised her they would see each other every day during the summer. He'd told her about all the lovely presents he would buy her with his winnings. He'd embraced her before each of the tasks, and she'd hung on to him for a very long time and whispered a heartfelt good luck in his ear before kissing him goodbye.

Kissing him goodbye...

Cho blinked, suddenly aware that tears were streaming down her face and that she could hardly make out her hands in front of her. She could feel her fingers going numb, she was gripping the broom too tightly... and then she looked down and gasped, feeling a swell of vertigo overwhelm her. She didn't want to be up here so high, she didn't want to be flying, she wanted Cedric to be with her... She flew downwards, appearing in the midst of the yellow and blue-robed players, who looked up at her startled, and then she saw a chubby-faced boy in Cedric's robes raise his hand triumphantly, and she saw the flash of gold and realised that she'd lost.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Fleur was running down from the Ravenclaw stands before the Quidditch players had alighted from their brooms. The Weasley boy was behind her somewhere, trying to follow her as she cut through the crowds, but she had no time for him now. She would explain it to him tomorrow, and he would accept whatever the explanation turned out to be.

Cho.

She was running blindly from the pitch; she'd thrown her broom to the ground and was trying to escape all the disappointed Ravenclaw supporters. Fleur could see the desperation in those wide, tearful eyes that shone from behind a curtain of wind-tossed hair.

"Cho!"

Cho stopped running, but in the nervous, hunted way of one who would start running again as soon as she saw anything move. She glanced fearfully behind her, and then moved towards Fleur.

"Fleur, I don't want to..." She jerked her head towards the pitch. Fleur understood: she didn't want to see anybody else from the school. Probably not for a long time.

"You don't have to." Carefully, Fleur put her arm around Cho's shoulders. "We'll go for a walk - they won't be able to find us."

Cho nodded, and tentatively put her arm around Fleur's waist as they walked towards the Forbidden Forest. Fleur's mind was racing.

Am I taking advantage of her?

Cho was crying again; tears were collecting on the corners of her lips, trembling as her head shook.

How else can I protect her?

"Cho, tell me," Fleur said, turning to her. She had to be sure; she had to be absolutely sure. "Tell me why you're crying, tell me all the reasons, and then I can help you."

A soft gulp. "I'm afraid. Fleur, I'm afraid, isn't that selfish?"

"No, of course not... it's never selfish to be afraid. Why do you say that?"

"I..." Cho looked directly at Fleur. "Did you ever - when you were younger, maybe - read romantic adventures that were written ages ago? Stories about good and evil and sacrifice and tragedy?"

I didn't have to.

"No, not really. Did you?"

"Yes. And whenever the hero of the story died, everybody else kept on fighting, even though they knew how dangerous it could be, and his lover always went into battle with them - she wasn't afraid; she was happy to die with him."

Fleur tucked a lock of hair behind Cho's ear. "And what do you think?"

"I can't stop thinking about Cedric's death! And how terrible it was, and how much I miss him, and how scared I am that it'll happen to me, and how it's not fair that people we love have to leave us so soon, and how I'd do anything to stop it happening again!"

It's time.

"Cho..." Fleur sat down, and held her hand out to Cho. "Cho, I want to tell you a story. I haven't told it to anybody before."

Cho took her hand and sat on the grass beside her. "You can tell me anything, Fleur."

Fleur took a deep breath. It was strange; she'd never really envisaged ever telling anybody the story. It was her secret; her fuel - it was locked deep inside her, deep where others couldn't understand.

"Do you - " She cleared her throat. "Do you remember my sister? My - Gabrielle?"

Cho nodded. A look of comprehension was dawning in her eyes, and she squeezed Fleur's hand.

"When I got home from Hogwarts this summer, Gabrielle was... missing. At first we had no idea what could possibly have happened to her; we thought maybe her nanny had taken her somewhere... my mother was frantic. I was more afraid than I'd ever been in my life.

"The next day, the Ministry got a ransom note." Fleur's voice quavered. "A group of Muggles had taken my sister, and they were threatening to kill her if we didn't do what they asked."

"Muggles? How could they possibly have taken her? Oh Fleur... what happened?"

Fleur looked into Cho's horrified eyes, and tried to steel herself to finish the story. I have to make her understand.

"Muggles - there are many Muggles who have learned about the wizarding world, you know. The Muggle-born come here, they all have families, the families have to be told - the families are sworn to secrecy, of course, but do you think they all keep it?" A note of bitterness crept into Fleur's voice. "They're excited about the new world they have discovered; they want to tell their friends. They feel so special - and yet they're not, because they're still Muggles. They get jealous. They... want the power for themselves..."

"And - these Muggles? What did they want?" Cho sounded frightened now.

"Power. Full disclosure. An end to the 'conspiracy', as they called it... they wanted the wizarding world to share all its secrets - to become part of the Muggle world, and to give everybody wands and magic.

"They would have destroyed us."

Cho shook her head sharply, as if trying to escape Fleur's words. "That's... that's terrible! What they wanted - it isn't even possible! They couldn't possibly have been allowed to - it would have been catastrophic! Oh." She saw the look in Fleur's eyes. "They... weren't allowed to, were they. The Ministry wouldn't even...?"

"The Ministry tried to frighten the Muggles into giving up the scheme," Fleur said heavily. She remembered a colleague of her mother's telling her about the plan - he'd been so confident it would work, so sure the Muggles were out of their depth. "They were going to alter their memories after they'd given Gabrielle back; they promised not to harm them. They made them see that their plan had no chance of succeeding... but it didn't work.

"The Muggles knew they weren't powerful enough to succeed, that's for sure. But any act of destruction was enough for them; they hated us that much. They killed themselves with Muggle weapons.

"And they killed my sister too."

Cho reached over and embraced Fleur tightly. Her words were muffled against Fleur's neck, but Fleur could make out her tearful words: "it can't happen again... it can't happen again... it's too dangerous!"

"Fleur," Cho said, suddenly breaking away from her, "How can you bear it? How can you go to school as if everything's normal, as if your sister didn't have to be sacrificed to protect the world? As if it couldn't happen again, any day!"

She... understands.

"Because every day of my life, Cho, I'm working to make sure it never does happen again."

Cho looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"It might take some - upheaval, but there's a way to protect ourselves. We need to separate the Muggle world completely from the wizarding one. They're a constant danger to us; they know too much and they often turn aggressive. If Muggles weren't allowed to join the wizarding world anymore - we'd be safe."

"Yes... that's true... but how could it possibly work? There are plenty of Muggle-born wizards."

"Wizarding abilities in the young can be suppressed easily. It was discovered in 1784, the spell that would inhibit magical development - it would be so easy to keep our worlds apart. A concerted effort by our witches and wizards, once a year, would keep magic out of the whole Muggle populace. Nobody would have to fight, there'd be no more fear and no more dying - just two worlds, living side by side the best they could.

"It's Muggle-lovers and impractical idealists like Dumbledore who keep the dangerous connection open. It's they who are sending us into war.

"But - there are some of us who are working to stop them. To change the rules. Cho, do you see?"

Cho was sitting perfectly still, watching Fleur with a gaze that Fleur couldn't quite fathom. For the first time this afternoon, the small girl seemed calm, as if a mystery that had plagued her had at last been solved. Fleur held her breath as she waited for Cho's answer.

"What can I do to help?"