"It’s okay to get attached," Lucius said.   Draco didn’t say anything in return.  He didn't know quite what to say, truth be told.  He’d come over to the Manor to find costumes, return some of the books Hermione had borrowed about Veela and pick up texts on werewolf mate selection.  Hermione had suggested it, and while he doubted it would turn out to be the same principle it was a lead to pursue.  He suspected it would come to nothing.   So far, everything had. Still, werewolves were creatures who could infect humans and turn them into werewolves, and they had mates in a rather wolfy, rather than human, way.  Maybe the Veela situation would be somewhat similar.  A stack of books sat on the table and he’d been just about to go when his father had arrived in the library, his arrival heralded by the screaming peacock painting. Draco wished his mother would consider redecorating.  Who cared if that painting depicted some important Malfoy wife from the past? It was obnoxious."I had a kneazle as a boy," Lucius went on and Draco made a vague noise that could have been interpreted as encouragement.  "I loved that little creature more than I would have thought possible.  She slept on my bed, and followed me everywhere.  I carried her around, and brushed her hair, and she wouldn’t let anyone touch her but me.  I would have killed anyone who hurt a single hair on her golden head."What happened to her?"  Draco was almost afraid to ask but his father just looked sad."She died of old age eventually," he said.  "I cried for days and insisted she had to be buried in the family plot."I’m sorry," Draco said. He supposed he should have noticed a pet marker in the small cemetery tucked away in a grove on the grounds, but he hadn’t been the sort of morbid child that did gravestone rubbings. All he'd ever wanted to do was fly and have friends.  The romance of death had never appealed to him.   That thought made the Mark on his arm itch and he had to fight to keep from rubbing at it.  His father would notice that lack of self-control, ask if he were okay, and he didn’t feel like explaining how much he hated the faded skull and snake he’d wear forever.  He’d never let Hermione see it.  He didn’t let anyone see it.  He’d learned the trick of never looking down when he didn’t have a shirt on so even he hadn’t seen it since the war.  It didn’t matter.  He could have traced every line.  He could have drawn it in his sleep.  He’d never be able to forget it.  He’d never be able to erase it, or undo it, or expiate it.  The sins of the father had been burned, quite literally, onto him.  Worse, he’d welcomed it.Was there anything quite as stupid as a sixteen-year-old boy who thought he was right?"My point," Lucius said, "is that even if you haven't yet, I’m sure you’ll come to care for this girl.  It’s perfectly fine.  She’d bound to you with magic, you live with her.  You’d be a monster if you didn’t develop feelings for her given all that, and, son, I know you aren’t."Thank you," Draco said.  He wanted to escape this conversation.  He wanted to go lie down.  He wanted to have a drink so stiff it didn’t even require a glass to stand up."Just remember that she’s a creature," Lucius said.  "She’s not a person, not like you are."She’s a diseased Mudblood," Draco said.  The words felt like ashes in his mouth and he wanted to spit them out.  His stomach clenched, and he reached for a glass of water that wasn’t there.  "I understand."Lucius turned away.  "I’m sorry," he said. "This isn’t what I would have wanted for you.  I wanted you to have what I do.  I wanted you to have a wife you can respect and love, a worthy son to follow after you."I appreciate that," Draco said.  He was going to choke.  He was going to strangle on the words he was swallowing. "I didn’t choose to... I’m trying to make the best of the situation.  And she’s not... not wholly unpleasant."You’ve made so many sacrifices for our family," Lucius said.  "Now this.  I’m glad at least she’s pleasant." He took a deep breath.  "Like her, son.  Get attached.  It’s fine.  We all love our pets.  There are probably even some benefits.  Things she’ll do you could never ask a proper lady... but the less said about that the better."Indeed," Draco said. It was all he could say, the only word his mouth would form.  He wasn’t sure what would possess his father to suggest what that sounded like, so he decided he had to misunderstand the implication.  He’d told himself for years that his father hadn’t been like some of the cruder Death Eaters.  He’d seen some of them do things during that last year that he wanted to forget, however much they were burned into memory, but he’d never seen his father engage in the worst.  He’d been a man in a trap, not a man reveling in his basest urges.Draco had respected that, especially since not having restraint in such matters probably would have elevated him in Voldemort’s eyes.  Lucius Malfoy had chosen to stay true.  Had chosen to stay pure. Purity always conquers.  That’s what they’d told him.  Fool that he was, he’d believed it."We can find a girl with good lineage, probably continental, to act as a... to ensure you have a pureblood child when the time comes."  Lucius said.  "With this Veela situation, you can just adopt the child and send the mother on her way.  She’ll be well compensated, and you’ll never have to see her again, but it would be a solution to your untenable problem."Draco closed his eyes and considered apparating home.  "I think that worrying about my own heir is a little premature," he said into the darkness his eyelids afforded him.  "You are still alive and well.  In your prime.  I can worry about a child once this situation is more settled."Wise," Lucius commended him.  It felt like condemnation.   "I just wanted to reassure you in case you felt trapped."Thank you for your concern," Draco said.  He hoped the words didn’t sound as tight as they felt coming out his mouth.  He hoped his father didn't see how far he'd fallen.  He'd never understand.Purity always conquers.  It felt like a bad joke.  Purity hadn't conquered anything.  Love had, and valor, and friendship.  All purity had managed was mindless slaughter. "You’re my son," Lucius said. "I love you."Draco opened his eyes and smiled wanly at his father.  "I know," he said. "Just... be kind to her, of course," Lucius said, "and don’t worry if you come to care for her.  Your mother said she was very well behaved in the restaurant, and dresses well.  You won’t need to be embarrassed to be seen with her, at least."No," Draco said.  It felt as though he were a puppet and someone else pulled his strings and he just said the things that were expected of him.  "She was a bit peaked at first, of course, because she’d been so ill, but she looks much better now."Good," Lucius said.  He shifted uneasily on his feet and then said, brightly, obviously happy to be done with what he’d come in to say.  "Your mother said you’ll be going to a costume party?"Draco nodded.  He’d gone up to the attics and poked around through generations of Malfoy cast offs to find things for them to wear.  Pansy would surely be in as little as possible and claim to be dressed as a mouse or some such.  In her mind, costume parties were an opportunity to be as sexually provocative as possible with no consequences and, as much as he’d love to see Hermione in one of Pansy’s previous "costumes’, she’d end up miserable every time anyone brushed against exposed skin so he’d thought that a more conservative approach might make her happier.  "Find anything?" Lucius asked."I’ll just wear some feathers on my face," Draco said. "Getting all dressed up isn’t that interesting to me."He’d found a black feather mask and, given that Hermione had told him he looked like a crow, he’d decided to say that was what he was dressed as.  Black shirt, black mask, and done.  He’d gathered a few things to have sent over for her to look at.  The Malfoys saved everything and the debris of lives were up there in trunks and boxes and he’d be damned if he let her look anything less than stellar, especially if Pansy were waiting to pounce on any weakness."I never enjoyed it either," Lucius said.  "Women do, though."  Draco eyed his father’s black brocade waistcoat, thought about the silver mask his father had worn for years, and decided not to say anything about either.  "I should go," was what he said instead.  "It was good to see you.  Take care of yourself." Lucius patted him on the shoulder.  "Take care of your little Veela, Draco.  Figure out how she latched onto you, and then we’ll see how that whole process can be controlled.  I’ve already got a man isolating the thing that causes the disease, and we should be able to create a way to infect someone without having to have a willing Veela around to sleep with our victims."  He let himself smirk a little. "Though I doubt anyone would mind."It’s getting the Veela that would be tricky," Draco said stiffly. "You need one of the original sort, and he’d have to be infected, not one like Her... like Granger.  She’s not contagious."Draco studied his shoes to avoid meeting his father’s gaze.  He could already feel rage stirring in his gut, and with it the urge to pummel his father into the ground.  The only problem was he’d have to pummel himself as well.   "You just figure out how she latched onto you, and we’ll be able to offer little Veelas just like her to the right sort of people," Lucius said.  "The sort you want in our debt," Draco said."Or the sort with enough money," Lucius said.  He patted Draco again. "Treat her well, Draco, and learn her secrets."