Familial Bonds
The frosted windows glowed softly in the flickering candlelight. It was rare that the Hogwarts library was abandoned on a weeknight, but the room was still—the students preferring to enjoy the first dusting of snow that had settled over the ground the night before than read their thick books.
Hermione sat alone in her alcove; the chair transfigured into a small couch. She was curled tightly into the armrest. The soft blanket that she had stolen from the Beauxbatons common room rested gently over her, fending off the cold.
Her hand trailed softly over the leather-bound surface of The Hidden History of the Veela: Culture, tradition, magic, and the five noble families.
She hadn’t touched the book in days, too preoccupied with everything else swirling around her. Hermione felt like an iceberg, suspended in the tumultuous sea of life—the ferocious waves crashing against her, sending shards tumbling down her sides and into the water.
Professor Black was still missing; the second Triwizard Tournament task was rapidly approaching; Fleur Delacour was weaseling her way beneath Hermione’s iron walls; and Isabelle…well Isabelle was still a mystery.
She sighed, releasing the tension that had been building up in her body.
The book had been weighing on her—both mentally and physically. Part of her loathed it still—especially the uncertainty it brought into her life. But a smaller part of her wanted desperately to accept everything it said, to immerse herself in its fantastically majestic and rich story.
As she brushed her fingertips over the book, she felt the magic within it stir, reaching out for her slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep.
Hermione let the magic in and shivered as it slithered excitedly along her body.
She opened the cover slowly, two feathers falling gently out and onto her lap. She moved her hand to grab them, before thinking better of it, deciding to let them rest where they fell.
As she touched the corner of the first page, the book jumped in her hand, quickly flipping through pages until deciding to settle on one, about halfway through the book.
Words slowly appeared in elegant golden scrawl across the page.
Familial Bonds—The Born and the Chosen
The comforting deep voice of the book filled her head, rich and soothing.
“To truly understand the Veela,” the book said, “it is imperative to understand the bonds that connect Veela to the world around them. The most important of which are the familial bonds. [Note: Mate bonds become familial bonds in time, once the Veela and their mate have both accepted one another into their hearts. As mate bonds can, on extremely rare occasions, be broken before they become familial bonds, they will not be discussed here. For more information on mates, see Veela Mates]. Familial bonds are what connect Veela parents and children, siblings, and extended family. They can also be grown to connect individuals the Veela chooses to bring into their family.
Familial bonds are the root source fueling a Veela’s power.
When the original five girls who became the first Veela found one another, they had no one. They were orphans, forced to live alone by the harshness of the world around them. But, within each other, they found a home, a new family, and they called themselves sisters. As they grew older, they truly became sisters. When they fought, forests bowed at their anger, but they always had each other’s back. They were the shoulders for their siblings to cry on and their strength when they were weak. They may not have been biologically related, but they chose one another.
When the ancient power saved the five girls, these bonds between them were amplified, connecting them deeply to one another. Their thralls were highly protective and recognized their family instantaneously, greeting each other subconsciously [see Veela Thralls]. As their families grew, so did their familial bonds. The original Veela became mothers and aunts as the next generation grew and then grandmothers and great aunts. If hardship befell any of their siblings, the Veela took on their families as their own. As time and with it generations passed, this tradition became ingrained into the very being of Veelas: the fierce, undying protectiveness and love for family.
It is thought that, as this bond empowered the original Veela, this bond amplifies the Veela’s power today. Familial bonds can be felt, even if they are not known. When families stand together, the power shared between them is infinite.
This phenomenon was apparent in the early in Veela history, when the original five stood together again and again to defend the ancient magic.
Snow was thick on the ground the first time it happened.
The Veela slept in their clearing, still quite young, mere years after their initial transformation. The men crept upon their camp under the blanket of night. They had heard that a great power resided in the forest and, greedy as they were, aimed to claim it for themselves. They were not expecting to be met by the Veela. Alone, they were strong but together, they were unstoppable, defeating the men with ease and grace, helping one another instinctually as if choreographing a dance.
The men returned many times over the years. They were able to steal power from the ancient magic, but only once, when only one of the Veela, the second youngest, had been left to guard, her sisters exploring the world with their families. As she was alone, she was vulnerable, and she was eventually defeated—forced to retreat.
The men who stole the magic, jealous of the Veela, learned to take it within themselves, but unable to direct or use it without the help of a magical object [see Veela and the history of wizards]. To this day, men with magic still seek more, often targeting the Veela and attempting to harness their power for themselves as the ancient magic has long since retreated into the Earth.
Veela will always be more powerful together than they are apart, however formidable they may be on their own.
As such, familial bonds are the strongest of all the Veela bonds, the foundation of their magic and the most frequent and distinct use of their thrall.”
Hermione closed her eyes, the words pausing in her head.
Slowly, cold tears began to run down her face, carving damp streaks against her pale skin.
How she longed for something like the Veela bond. In the deepest, darkest part of her heart, hidden within a vault behind lock and key, there was a girl aching to be loved, crushed by the utter weight of her loneliness.
Hermione wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a family that loved her. To have spent hours playing outside in the grass, utterly carefree, or to go on camping trips and be tucked in with a nighttime story. She pictured warm hugs and abundant laughter. She dreamed about quiet nights solving puzzles by the fire, homemade breakfasts, snowball fights, and even someone helping her with the troublesome problems on her homework. Hermione thought about what it would have been like to come home to a large family dinner—one where her aunts would come rushing in, lifting her small body into the air and swinging her around as she screamed out with glee, only stopping when her mom finally came to her rescue, laughing at the audacity of her crazy sisters.
The gaping hole in her heart throbbed painfully for the visions that never existed and would never come to pass.
Hermione was so absorbed in hurricane of her thoughts that she did not notice the familiar figures approach or sit down next to her. She did not register as her name was called, only snapping out of it when her shoulder was gently shaken.
Her eyes snapped open, rapidly trying to blink away the tears. Hermione was met with two sets of reflective golden pools.
Fleur sat to her side, her hand still gently on Hermione’s shoulder from where she had shaken her to get her attention. Isabelle kneeled in front of her, looking up at Hermione worriedly.
Hermione tried to smile at them but it came out as a grimace, new tears quickly pooling into her eyes.
Neither girl said anything. Whether they had seen the open book on the table or simply had an intuitive guess, they realized that their words would fall dully on her emotional state. Instead, they sat with her in silence and, when the new round of tears fell, Fleur and Isabelle quickly wrapped Hermione in a tight hug, their magic suffocating her.
After some time, the Veelas called for their Patronuses thinking that the critters antics would bring a smile to Hermione’s face.
They were surprised when the two glowing figures simply wrapped themselves around Hermione; Fleur’s cat as small as a kitten on her lap and Isabelle’s bird perched protectively on her head.
The girls stayed on the couch together, just enjoying the peaceful silence, until the sun dipped below the mountains and the world was sent tumbling into dusk.
As if a silent alarm had sounded, Fleur and Isabelle stood as one, gathering Hermione’s belongings before reaching for the girl herself, pulling her from the couch and out of the library.
With a few deep breaths, Hermione settled herself, tucking that small fragile girl back into the locked vault in her heart, vowing, once again, that it would stay there.
She smiled softly at the two Veelas who smirked in response before pulling her rapidly along.
Within moments, they stood before the open doors of the great hall.
The room was full tonight, students smiling as they shook snow covered heads and robes at one another.
Fleur and Isabelle pulled Hermione to a group of Beauxbatons students at the end of the Ravenclaw table, forcing Hermione to sit with them.
When Hermione didn’t reach for the food, Isabelle and Fleur took turns piling more onto her plate, casually maintaining conversation with their friends and allowing Hermione to just observe in peaceful silence.
Hermione was shocked to be surrounded by the imposing girls, but did not deny the comfort their presence brought. As she picked through her food, she found herself lulled by the conversation around her, something about a dance.
Just as they were finishing their meals, Dumbledore stood, drawing the attention of the room.
As the chatter faded, Dumbledore placed his wand on his throat and began to speak.
“Good evening,” he roared, his voice too harsh against the quiet of the hall, “Tonight I am thrilled to announce the return of a Triwizard tradition: The Yule Ball. As is tradition, the three schools will come together to celebrate this grand event.”
Excited murmurs grew steadily throughout the room. Even the Beauxbatons students had a certain glint in their eyes.
“SILENCE!” Dumbledore yelled effectively suffocating the chatter, “Over the next two weeks, each school will be required to attend dance lessons.” A few boos rang out in the vicinity of the Gryffindor table, “To the champions, this ball is for you! A correspondent from the Daily Prophet will be here in the next two days to take your statements. You are now dismissed for the evening; dance lessons begin tomorrow.”
Dumbledore moved to leave the room, quickly followed by the other professors.
Hermione’s attention was initially drawn to the renewed whispers from the Beauxbatons students, but was quickly redirected to the hundreds of gazes that were now directed at the small group around her. Lust, greed, wistfulness, shyness, and confidence assaulted her vision. Hermione was going to be sick at the sudden onslaught of eyes she felt poking at her. She scanned the room quickly, passing briefly over Ron’s glinting eyes and Viktor’s determined gaze, before she found Draco. He was glaring at the table. His face appeared sunken and he looked small, a drastic change to his formidable presence.
“What is wrong, Hermione?” Fleur asked softly from beside her, the Veela’s breath ghosting over her ear.
Hermione nodded in Draco’s direction, “I’m just worried about him. We haven’t heard from Professor Black in days.”
Isabelle smirked beside her, “I’m sure she’ll return sooner than you think, Hermione.”
Hermione hummed in an unsure acknowledgement.
As she watched, Draco’s head suddenly popped up, his eyes narrowing in on the Professor’s table.
Hermione followed the line of his gaze until she saw a figure creeping in through the side door, quietly closing it behind them.
As the figure looked up in Draco’s direction, Hermione let out a quiet gasp, instantly recognizing the professor.
Almost as if she had heard the thought screaming in Hermione’s head, Professor Black’s gaze locked onto Hermione’s and her lips tilted upwards.
Hermione’s eyes quickly scanned the woman. She seemed thinner and a bit pale, her eyes dull and sunken, but, overall, she appeared to be in modest health.
Hermione let go of a weight she had not realized she had been holding.
Fleur’s hand came to her back, gently rubbing a soothing circle into her skin as Isabelle’s hand came to rest gently on her leg in comfort.
Draco stood from his seat and, to Hermione’s shock, sprinted across the room into his mother’s embrace.
Professor Black quickly pulled his head to her shoulder, whispering something into his ear. Draco appeared to shake for a moment before quickly pulling back and rubbing at his face as he straightened up. His frown turning into a gentle smile. The two were oblivious to anyone that watched them.
As they moved to leave the room, Professor Black stopped and caught Hermione’s gaze, a silent message passing between them. Hermione nodded slightly and Professor Black smiled, gliding out the door as quickly as she had entered.