Veela bird shape howls in motion

Information; This story will soon be deleted, edited and revised and uploaded again.

Beta is the wonderful one: Smile-tan ღ

The babble of voices around him was unbearable, as were the various smells that wafted around in the air of the unventilated narrow room. His head started to roar through these strong, overwhelming perceptions and his mood, which was not particularly good even that way, sank steadily.

But there was no point in getting upset about it, let alone that he just had the nerve to do it. Very different, much more urgent considerations were going on in his head at the moment.

For example, one of them was how he would be looked at when he showed up at the Ministry. Or that he hoped to find no one he knew there. But that was just wishful thinking on his part. He knew Harry Potter was working as an Auror there. Not to forget the Wiesel and Granger, who - as far as he knew - was in the legislature.

His hands were covered with an unnatural amount of sweat and he was fiddling with the seam of his coat pocket, where a black thread had come loose. He tried hard to breathe calmly and not panic.

The bus he was sitting in stopped abruptly and he realized that he had arrived in central London.

Like some other passengers, he also got off at the stop. He was careful not to touch anyone, let alone that someone bumped into him. He wanted to establish as little physical contact with others as possible. Fortunately for him, he succeeded. He walked purposefully towards the inconspicuous telephone booth that stood in the middle of London and looked unused. When he entered the cell, he looked around again to make sure no one saw him. In principle, no one could do this, as the phone booth was not visible to Muggles. But as the saying goes: trust was good, control was better.

He quickly entered: 62443.

A woman's voice, buttoned up like a robot, rang out and gave him some instructions. Then the cell started moving and went down under the earth.

Once there, he was greeted directly by the magical daylight that seemed to illuminate every corner of the ministry. The interior of the building was as animated as he remembered it: witches and wizards ran past him without paying any attention to him, which he was really extremely happy about. The hall itself was in splendid condition: the dark, polished parquet floor and countless golden decorations and bars everywhere. Gold on the peacock blue ceiling, on the door frames and the many open chimneys along both side walls. In the middle of the hall was a huge fountain, which had been rebuilt after the war and whose water sprang from the accessories of a group of golden figures.

His shoulders pulled back tightly and his gaze kept cool, he made his way to the next room of the hall as quickly as possible, where there were a few elevators that took you to the different floors. He noticed the steadily rising glances at himself the further he went into the Ministry, just as he felt the whispering and, above all, the contempt that was being brought to him, soak into his skin. But he ignored all of this. He was used to being looked at like that. Even though it had been five years since his last visit to the wizarding world, he knew they hadn't forgotten. That they would never forget. But he couldn't change anything and he didn't intend to. He didn't live here anymore and didn't want to either. He was only here because he had to. He unconsciously licked his lips to moisten them and to wet his dry throat with saliva.

He got out on the floor for the Department for the Management and Supervision of Magical Creatures and unconsciously clenched his fists in his coat pockets. He was uncomfortable that half of the wizarding world would now find out that he was an unclean creature. The great Draco Malfoy of stained blood. As a Veela, he had been a complete disappointment to his family. Occupied by a flaw. And he would now have to make this flaw public due to the newly enacted law, about which he had been informed by owl and which required that all magical beings be registered now. Everything in him resisted. It was nobody's business who he was. That was his business. And he didn't want to give them any more fodder for their scornful looks. He didn't want to have to give himself up any more than he already was. Just because Veelas didn't always have it really well with their masters and suffered from abuse and various other things, his stomach ached at the fact that he would now have to show that he also belonged to the group of these mindless creatures. He hated it!

But until now Draco hadn't looked for his partner and he wasn't planning to. Even if his other half screamed for it inside him. When he realized something was wrong with him, he went to a Muggle doctor for a check-up. The first blood draw had been the worst part of the whole procedure. Until then, he hadn't known how comfortable it was to live with magic and how much the Muggles had to go through without magic. He shook his head slightly, now was not the right moment to worry about something like that.

Burying those unpleasant thoughts far back in his head, Draco began to look in the hallway for a sign that would tell him which door to knock on. At Salazar, everything looked the same here! Before he could mentally curse the Ministry for the allocation, a door was thrown open quite far back in the corridor and a man stumbled out who was probably in his early to mid-thirties.

"How did you manage to leave such a mess?" He complained loudly and ran straight towards Draco. He was more than surprised that such an impulsive person seemed to work in the ministry. After all, these people - especially in this department - should be more of a confidante than someone who is unnecessarily upset about something.

The closer the man got, the more Draco realized that the hair that had previously appeared brunette was not brunette, but ... red. A weasel.

The weasel wore a plain black shirt. Through the short sleeves you could see that there was an unsightly burn scar on his right arm. Otherwise, the offspring looked very similar to the rather bulky mother Draco knew of course. What he could not say about the stature, however. Oh no, the tall, slim and visibly toned body even under the clothes definitely had nothing in common with the rather small, chubby figure of the weasel mother.

Wiesel himself probably didn't even notice him - he was so furious - and promptly ran against him. Draco's heart stopped and his insides screamed. His eyes widened and he involuntarily took a step back.

No! That couldn't be true. That couldn't be true!

The redhead himself looked straight into his eyes and smiled apologetically at him before he left again. Just like Draco, who after a few seconds of shock almost quickly took his legs in his hands and rushed down the corridor ...

Even if his insides screamed to run after the redhead and keep staring at him, Draco struggled against it. Though he knew the consequences all too well.

★ Afterword.
Hello and welcome to this FF.
I'm really happy that you are interested in the story, and I have a few more words to say.

● Pair.
Almost a year ago, my dearest beta reader and my best friend got me || Sister || soul mate, made aware of a story called: the burden - bears. The really talented -Moccacino- gave me a taste for it and also contributes a lot to the fact that I now truly trust Pair, who seems to be quite unknown here.

I will try my best to stay in character, but it is not always possible as most people know, so I would like to warn you in advance that it can / will become 100% OOC.

● Updates.
The story is private as far as I upload the chapters here, so I can't give exact times when I will upload. I apologize in advance.

● Depression.
When I mean depression, I mean exactly that. Not that one gets drunk, howls or is depressed every now and then. No. I mean those that make themselves felt in your head, your soul and above all in your body. That you suffer from it, have ups and downs, etc.
I just wanted to mention this because in the end I don't want to hear that somebody is suffering too much somewhere or that it is not the way I write it, because I stick to it as well as I can Body crumbles inside.
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