“So tell me WHAT YOU DID.” Harry’s voice echoes throughout the interrogation room, his hands slamming onto the table.
Draco flinches at the volume, averting his eyes.
“Eleven of your patients tried to ‘attack’ you. Eleven. They all acted as though magically entranced. You have a near-perfect track record. You wouldn’t just destroy your career. What. Happened.” He says, his tone harsh.
Harry’s Auror robes were broad and powerful. On them, there were several insignias: for the Ministry, for his First Class Order of Merlin, for his Head Auror status; it didn’t take a genius to see his power.
But that wasn’t to say Draco was without influence. He was a senior-level Healer, renowned, his powers highly sought after. His grey Healer robes also bore numerous insignias, his prestige rivalling Harry’s. The same respect and honour Harry had earned by birthright, Draco had worked to the bone for. And he had gotten it, becoming one of the most highly regarded Healers in Britain.
“Harry-” Draco starts.
“Don’t Harry me. They think it was a fluke. I think it was dark magic. So, tell me, which was it?” Harry says, his voice deadly. Their animosity wasn’t a secret. Everyone in the Healing and Auror departments knew they both loathed each other. Draco knew if it got out that Harry was the one interrogating him, it would be a scandal beyond measure.
“It’s been taken care of. You don’t need to worry about it anymore.” Draco says, his tone cold and professional as he finally looks up and meets Harry’s eyes. They’re warm and green, the harshness in them flickering for just a second when Draco makes eye contact.
“I need answers, Malfoy, not vague statements,” Harry says, unwavering.
Draco inhales. He really, really did not want to get into this with Harry. It was a secret that Pansy, Blaise, and a supervisor knew, and certainly not something he wanted fucking Harry Potter to know. Could he even trust this man? But considering the options were either telling him or scandalizing his career, he had no choice.
“I worked two back-to-back 24-hour shifts, causing me to miss my daily suppressant medication. This has never occurred in my years as a Healer, and will not happen again. The department is aware of the issue and has cleared it.” Draco says, as smoothly as possible.
“You were off what?”
“Suppressive medications are usually given to magical creatures or adjacent beings, mitigating their subconscious magical effects and allowing them to-”
“No, no, I know what it is. But what does that have to do with anything? And why do you take-?” Harry says, cutting him off, the mostly put-together man looking very caught off guard.
Harry suddenly pauses, just staring at Draco. The silence stretches for what feels like a millennium, and Draco feels an awful tension creeping up in his gut, his fight-or-flight response kicking in. Fuck, he should’ve just chosen to remain silent and report Harry for improper interrogation.
At last, Harry speaks, his eyes wide. “You’re a veela.”
Warnings: Smoking, based on Moulin Rouge, characters are aged up cause otherwise it's weird if they’re fourteen, reader is considered ‘crown jewel’ of beauxbatons and is pretty flirty, Mattheo might be a bit OOC?
Will drive you, will drive you… Mad! Roxanne!
The Tri-Wizard Tournament was a stupid tradition just designed for the wizarding schools to show off the children they offered up like sacrifices. That’s just what Mattheo thought, anyway. The other Slytherins were, of course, excited and wanted to show off the mighty prowess of the snake house, but Mattheo thought the entire thing archaic. There was a reason it had been cancelled, after all.
He would not be attempting to enter his name into the goblet, even though a small part of him thought it might be nice to be the Hogwarts Champion. Maybe if he won the whole thing, people would finally begin to look at him as something other than the Dark Lord’s son. But besides, he was far too cool to even think about entering.
Mattheo wasn’t looking forward to the challenges, the cancelled quidditch, the Yule Ball, and sharing the castle with all the other students. And if he had known what would happen at the end of the year, he wouldn’t be looking forward to it either.
Nevertheless, Mattheo was still a Hogwarts student and was forced to sit (albeit begrudgingly) at the opening ceremonies. He detested the uniform he was expected to wear. It made him look idiotic. The other two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were just arriving and it was causing quite a stir.
From beside him, Theo muttered something in Italian as the doors opened and the Beauxbatons students entered. Mattheo was too busy staring to pay any attention to his friend. After all, he was just a teenage boy like the rest of them.
Enzo’s mouth was hanging open and Blaise was trying to look uninterested, but his eyes followed the girls. Draco was getting a stern talking-to from Pansy, though even the Slytherin girls couldn’t deny the beauty of the Beauxbatons population. The rest of Hogwarts seemed just as entranced. The Weasley twins were practically panting and a Ravenclaw boy was even standing up, trying to get a better view.
Whether these people were Veela or not, they certainly had everyone transfixed. Perhaps it was their dance or the light magic that surrounded them that made them all irresistible.
Meanwhile, Mattheo’s dark eyes were fixated on one girl in the back. She was walking near the giant headmistress and not dancing like the other girls. Instead, she looked strangely at ease, like she knew she could command a room. It was certainly working – many eyes were drawn to her, not necessarily because of her beauty (though that was striking) but because of the aura of confidence around her. If it wasn’t obvious by her not dancing, it was clear from her knowing smile that she was the crown jewel of Beauxbatons.
You don't have to put on that red light… Walk the streets for money
Students parted for Mattheo, as they always did. Whenever he walked the halls, his glare fixed in front of him was enough to make people scurry out of the way. If it wasn’t for his parentage, it would be his green robes and scars.
He was on his way back to the common room when he heard an unfamiliar voice call, “Riddle?” Mattheo would have bitten back with a snarky reply, but the sweetness of the voice made him pause. When he turned, he tried to mask the surprise that came over him.
You, still in your Beauxbatons uniform, introduced yourself. “I saw you at dinner today,” you said. “I had to ask around, but you are Mattheo Riddle, yes?”
He prayed you weren’t about to ask him about his dad. “Yeah,” Mattheo said. “What’s it to you?”
You shook your head and smiled at him. “I didn’t mean any offense. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks.” You bid him goodnight and then turned, walking back to the school entrance where the Beauxbatons carriage was parked.
Mattheo couldn’t stop the hesitance that came over him. He had known one too many people who had pretended to be friends just to boast about their relationship with Voldemort’s son. Yet, he couldn’t help but want to believe you.
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right. Roxanne!
Walking down the castle hall, you waved to Mattheo. He nodded back, still stoic (for he couldn’t be seen waving to a girl), but mentally counted up the number of times you had acknowledged him in public. Every time you smiled at him, he found his question of “why was this girl so determined to be friendly to me?” deflating just a bit more. By the end of the week, he was greeting you back with ‘hellos’ that made his friends tease him.
You don't have to wear that dress tonight. Roxanne!
You slid into the seat next to Mattheo. He was in the library, looking at some old muggle records the school had purchased for Muggle Studies. He would never admit it, but he liked some of the music. “Are you going to be putting your name in for the Tournament?” you asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Mattheo replied. “Why are you here?” He was always quite blunt with his questions.
“Looking for you,” you said. “If you’re not entering your name, then I hope you don’t mind me asking to cheer for me if I get picked?”
Mattheo couldn’t help but smirk. He looked up from the record he was examining. “Are you asking me to forgo my school loyalty?”
You shrugged and rested your chin on your hand. “Aren’t we supposed to foster inter-school relations?”
The boy grunted. “Why are you even entering the Tournament?”
“Why aren’t you?”
Mattheo scoffed and shoved the record away. “I already have enough stress in my life, sweetheart. I don’t need more. I’m not gonna let myself be killed by some… dragon or whatever shit they’ll pull out.”
“Ah, it would be fun,” you said. “Who wouldn’t want to fight a dragon once in their life?”
“You have a death wish,” Mattheo declared. “The glory and riches aren’t enough for me, thank you very much.”
You reached out and brushed a hand against his forearm. He paused and looked over at you. “So does this mean you won’t be cheering for me?”
“If you end up getting chosen,” Mattheo found himself saying, “then yeah, princess. I’ll cheer for you.”
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Mattheo met your eye across the Great Hall when Fleur Delacour’s name was chosen instead. You simply gave him a shrug and a small smile. That night, he found you wandering the halls of Hogwarts. “It seems pretty dreary here,” you commented. “It’s much… lighter at Beauxbatons. More windows and whatnot.”
“Are you going to be staying for the Tournament?” Mattheo asked instead. He knew that some Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, those who hadn’t been chosen, were planning on returning to their schools to finish the school year.
You nodded. “Yes, I want to see what the events are. Madame Maxime also ‘highly encouraged’ us to stay to support Fleur,” you laughed at the thinly veiled threat from your headmistress.
“She’s part Veela, yes?”
You raised a brow and looked over at him. “And here I thought you didn’t care about lineage?”
Mattheo smirked. “Is that jealousy I hear, princess?”
You nudged your shoulder with his, laughing. “Oh, you should know me better than that, Mattheo. I’m hurt you think so little of me.” You could hear a portrait loudly whispering about the two of you as you turned the corner.
“For the record, I was just making conversation,” Mattheo told you after a moment. He tucked his hands into his pockets.
You glanced over at him, taking in his dark hair that gave him an effortlessly handsome look. It was incredibly annoying. “I know,” you say.
He tried to avoid the way your staring made him feel oddly exposed. “Let me walk you back to the carriage,” he offered. Mattheo cleared his throat and gestured to the front lawns where the Beauxbatons carriage sat majestically. After a moment, he asked, “so does that mean you’ll also be staying for the Yule Ball?” Salazar, where was the heir of the Riddle house? Why was he suddenly feeling like a weak teenage boy who didn’t know his ups from his downs?
“Of course,” you exclaim. “I’ve already got my dress picked out and my friends and I are going to spend the day getting ready together.” You couldn’t help but look over at him once again. “Are you going?”
Just ask her. It’s clear she likes you. “Uh, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I am.”
You got to the carriage and you paused in front of the door. When it was clear he wasn’t going to continue, you said, “goodnight, Mattheo.”
“Night, Y/n.”
His eyes upon your face… His hand upon your hand
The next day, you, the crown jewel of Beauxbatons, got asked to the Yule Ball by none other than Cedric Diggory. He was a very nice boy and seemed so sincere. Unfortunately, he didn’t realise the awkward position he put you in by asking you right in the main entrance hall of Hogwarts where everyone saw. When you said yes, it felt more like a sentencing than an acceptance.
His lips caress your skin… It's more than I can stand!
Mattheo had been pacing the dormitory room for a good quarter of an hour. His jaw was tense and his back was rigid. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists routinely and he looked more livid than when Blaise had broken his lighter. For once, he looked every bit the son of the Dark Lord.
From where they were sitting on their respective beds, Enzo muttered, “I’m expecting a Dementor to come screaming out of him any second now.”
“You’ve only known her for a couple of weeks,” Draco pointed out, tossing a Granny Smith apple up and down in the air.
“That doesn’t matter!” Mattheo practically snarled at his friend. “I don’t know, I just… like her.” He struggled to find the accurate words.
“You and half of Hogwarts,” Blaise said.
Mattheo caught the apple Draco threw in the air and chucked it at the Zabini boy who batted it away with Quidditch reflexes. Ignoring Draco’s outcry, Mattheo continued, “I don’t fucking care. I know she likes me back. I know it.”
“There’s that Riddle arrogance,” Theo said.
“Shut it, Nott. But then she goes and says yes to Diggory. Diggory! That slimy, good-for-nothing, low excuse for a wizard–”
Draco interrupted the rant. “Diggory’s good-looking, mate.” Suddenly aware of all of the stares on him, Malfoy raised his hands up in the air. “I got eyes. Doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him or anything,” he grumbled.
“Are you still gonna go to the Ball?” Blaise asked, saving Draco any more shame.
Mattheo still looked pissed about it, but nodded. “Like I have a choice. I gotta make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
The rest of the Slytherin boys all shared a look. This was either going to end horribly or magnificently.
Why does my heart cry
To Mattheo, and probably everyone else at the Ball, you were the most gorgeous person there. He couldn’t stop staring as you danced with Diggory. Torn between awestruck for the way your dress hung from your body and furious for how Diggory had matched a boutonniere to your outfit, Mattheo stayed close to the outskirts of the room.
Draco had commanded the dorm room that morning, instructing all of his friends through the motions of getting ready. He was barking out orders and shoving them around. It was difficult getting five teenage boys presentable for the Yule Ball and Mattheo had briefly wondered if this is what the girls dealt with daily.
All of the preparation had paid off, however. All of the Slytherin boys looked their best. Mattheo’s curls were even more defined and he was dressed in a crisp black suit and dark green tie. Draco had batted the cigarette and lighter from his hands just before the dance started, squawking, “you don’t want to smell like filth, do you?” If it were any other year, he wouldn’t have left Draco boss him around like that, but this was a special occasion.
He just hoped he lived up to your expectations.
Feelings I can't fight
It was too much. Diggory had leaned in during a slow dance and you had smiled at him. Mattheo couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn't take seeing another man touch you and hold you like he should be doing; if only he hadn’t been too much of a coward.
He pushed past Theo, ignoring the protests of his friends. He needed to get outside. Mattheo could feel his chest tightening up and his eyes burning. Salazar, was he really going to be reduced to a snivelling mess just because of a girl?
Mattheo sucked in the night air, the coolness hitting his lungs as a needed respite. Automatically, his hands went to his pockets and he dug out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. The cigarette hung from his lips and his fingers fumbled with the lighter for much longer than necessary. “Get a grip, Riddle,” he hissed to himself.
“You didn’t seem like the type of person to talk to themself,” a familiar voice came from beside him.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t do that,” Mattheo huffed. His chest was still rising and falling with the emotion of the night and it only worsened with the surprise of seeing you. You looked even more stunning up close. “And I’m not.” You weren’t smiling at him the way you did Diggory. The thought rooted itself in Mattheo and dug its claws in.
“Are you okay?” The claws in his heart loosened ever so slightly.
You're free to leave me
Mattheo stood there for a moment, his jaw working. “Am I okay?” he repeated with a scoff. He looked down at his polished shoes and kicked a loose stone. “Look, I get it,” he suddenly snapped. “You don’t want to be with the son of Voldemort. Too much baggage to help carry or whatever.” His shoulders were tense and it was clear he was getting confrontational even though you hadn’t started any argument.
“Always the fucked up kid, you know?” he continued. “I’ve never–” he cleared his throat, “I’ve never had a crush or any of that shit. I was never even really told about them or a name for the feelings.” He shoved the unlit cigarette back into the package. “I don’t get why you said yes to Diggory of all people,” he spat.
But just don't deceive me
“I thought we... I thought you liked me.”
And please
Mattheo swallowed thickly and finally looked over at you. Your smile was soft and kind, not pitiful or sarcastic. He wasn’t used to seeing such smiles. “I do like you,” you correct him quietly. “Cedric just beat you to the punch. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to ask me. So…” You shifted your weight back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Do you want to dance?”
"Gabrielle was Fleur in miniature; eleven years old, with waist-length hair of pure, silvery blonde, she gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile and hugged her, then threw Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes. Ginny cleared her throat loudly." (DH, pg 98)
but then just a couple of pages prior:
“Fleur’s sister’s a bridesmaid, she needs to be here for the rehearsal, and she’s too young to come on her own,' said Herimone" (DH, pg 91)
So, eleven year old Gabrielle is considered by Hermione and her parents (and others, since neither Ron nor Harry challenges this idea) too young to travel without a chaperone (her parents), is explicitly treated as a child in every other practical sense, yet, she is still seen as a possible sexual threat to Ginny. I sort of talk about how veelas are viewed as threatening sexual objects here (to both men and women), and how they have to bear the responsibility for that threat. But I feel like this sorta reveals the depth (or the root) of that cultural belief in wizarding society, which is that veela femininity and sexuality is treated as ontological, not developmental. It is not something that emerges with maturity, choice, or sexual awareness, it's something that simply exists and acts upon others.
Gabrielle’s behavior, taken on its own, is completely normal for a child, she's mimicking adult manners, copying her admired older sister, performing charm in a social setting. What ends up transforming it into something threatening is the cultural story already attached to veela. Veela are not granted innocence in the wizarding cultural imagination. Human witches are allowed developmental stages (girlhood, adolescence, adulthood) and the shifting expectations around desire and sexuality that come with it. Veela are not. They are imagined as sexualized from the outset, as beings whose beauty always already carries intent and consequence. So Gabrielle’s age does not protect her from this framing because age itself is irrelevant to how veela are understood. Their femininity and sexuality is not contextual, it is mythic.
I think by far the strangest thing about HP Veela is the fact that they're so associated with the French witches and wizards despite being based on a Slavic myth.
Like ... the vila are a species of Slavic fae and/or nymphe-like creatures. Like, the Basiliskos, the elves, the boggarts and the vila are all so far removed from what they were in their original myths. Basiliskos and vila aren't even spelt correctly, and what she did with boggarts and elves is honestly wild.
The Basiliskos was a North African bird with a serpent tail whose touch is deadly and venomous breath would slowly wither you away. It could kill ANYTHING. Elves are from the Germanic Alf, referring to the magical creatures of either light (ljosalfar) or dark (dokkalfar) that were ambivalent towards humans. Boggarts were a type of Unseelie Fae that either served as household mischief, stealing your cutlery and trinkets, or as horrifying swamp monsters, stealing children. Vila were a type of Slavic shapeshifter, who might be found dancing in circles naked to lure in men, however joining uninvited meant death, and would turn into hurricanes or wild animals like deer but have ZERO bird or fire association.
Like, after a certain point of making your own mythology for those creatures you've just got to admit they're no longer any close to what the inspiration was, and therefore, should simply be named something else. She really tried with Veela but girl, it's not that hard to figure out what they were supposed to be based on. And why are they all French?? The vila to Veela transition confuses me the most. Even her boggart confuses me less.
