Eugenics, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: Just about everyone has a disclaimer that says they don't want to be sued, or they don't own the story or any sort of copyright in anyway relating to the story and its characters. So, at instead of repeating someone else's statement, I will just say that you're an idiot if you don't get it already. Got it?

Summary: A surprise visit, a battle and a forbidden kiss. What more could you want?

Note: A challenge/idea placed on the PottersPlace2 Yahoo group. If you like it review and let me know, and go join the group to thank Zaxxon. I'm putting this up because I can't figure out what else to do with it. I know it's missing something, Nyx said more fighting, but I don't think that's the whole problem.
Ah well, it's been sitting on my computer for a while, I hope someone gets some enjoyment out of it. So, even though it's not finished, this dedicated to Nyx, in hopes that I don't lose one of my best friends, I've lost enough of them already.

Eugenics
• Mehetabelo •

Harry grimaced as he moved; the adrenaline of the moment was quickly wearing off. The lacerations he'd sustained in the fight were causing him a great deal of pain. He ignored them though, and stood above the unconscious Veela, gloriously naked, and terrifyingly angry as blood dripped from every part of his body. He felt no embarrassment, or horror at what he had just done. Actually, he felt rather triumphant, and he stood before her waiting until she woke a few moments later.

• Half an hour earlier •

The last of the DA were pulling themselves to their feet slowly. It was their very last meeting of the year, a send off more than anything else. They spent most of the time reviewing what they'd gone over the last three years, and seeing how much had changed with them. Harry was pretty worn out from all the work, but it had made him a lot stronger over the years. Eventually, when he had to face Voldemort for another confrontation, he'd be valid competition instead of a pathetic something to be trodden over.

They had all had individual duels, using everything they knew. Of course, being Harry, he'd been able to beat them all. However, it had taken a lot out of him, and in the end, he'd barely been able to keep up, even knowing all of their weaknesses. They expected it of him though, and he couldn't let them down. It meant letting the whole world down, and he couldn't do that. Sometimes it felt like he was wound so tightly that he was sure eventually he was going to explode. He was hoping that it wasn't on someone that didn't deserve it.

It did feel nice to take out some of his anger and frustration while he was fighting. He was extremely happy that they had gone so far. All of them, even the weakest of them, could conjure a Corporeal Patronus. Most of them could even stay around for more than a few moments.

The whole group was sitting out on the pillows, all of them looking at him expectantly. "Everyone is excellent," he said after a long breath. "I imagine that if we're ever put up against the Death Eaters again, we'll prove to them that we're not pushovers."

Everyone smiled, some brighter than others, but they were all exhausted from dueling each other. It helped for them to hear him say that because they needed to hear, no matter how vaguely, that they were as strong as the Death Eaters. Voldemort wasn't an annoyance anymore, he was openly killing people. He had allied himself with the vampires and he protected them during attacks. It made what should have been a simple attack turn into a vicious slaughter. In fact, the last attack, on North Windig, had been the largest attack in history. The whole town had been nothing but corpses when Voldemort's forces had finished. The muggles called it a terrorist attack that involved some sort of special gas.

Since then the other 'lesser species', as the ministry called them, had been showing open revolt against the rules and regulations that had kept them in line for so long. Voldemort offered the world to them, even though he didn't care about them, he'd worry about them when he took control.

Harry glanced wearily at Hermione, who was positively glowing now that the NEWT's were over. She'd been giving both Ron and Harry an absolutely dreadful time almost since the beginning of the year. Harry wondered how she had dealt with it all. Hermione nodded, and picked up where he'd left off. She had planned something for the DA members as a graduation gift, something she'd been working on all year. All Harry knew was that it was some sort of gift for their protection. Harry just let her speak, not even really paying attention. She could tell him all the important things later. He scanned the crowd, going over everyone and wondering when he was going to see them next.

Susan caught his eye and they stared at each other for a moment before he smiled. She blushed scarlet and turned her eyes back towards Hermione instantly.

One of the reasons he'd been having difficulties lately in school was because his hormones were going rampant. He, unlike most of the other boys, had developed very slowly, and it had only hit full strength in the middle of his seventh year. It seemed like all the girls were suddenly different, and he had taken to staring at them for long periods of time, as if he'd suddenly discovered what the difference between male and female was.

He'd known what girls were... but before now, Cho had been the only one he'd really had a crush on. There were so many of them though, these girls, and somehow he hadn't really noticed that before. In fact, there were so many that it was difficult to single out one and decide she was the one he wanted to be with. That and he was worried about Voldemort, and what it might mean if he was dating anyone. After all, he didn't need to make them a special target.

A lot of the people around him could probably handle themselves without too much difficulty around a Death Eater, but Harry knew that those he knew wouldn't need to worry about a single Death Eater. He knew that Voldemort wasn't the sort of person who attacked with only one warrior. He brought a legion of Death Eaters instead, and all sorts of nasty unnamed dark creatures. Harry knew he couldn't expose anyone to that; it would weigh down on him constantly. Hermione had even told him that was what his problem was. Of course, Hermione had known, she always knew. Sometimes, she was just too smart.

They'd had an argument, when Harry had realized that Ron and Hermione had also been special targets, and, Hermione had stopped it with a few cutting remarks. He knew they weren't going to leave him, but he'd tried.

Then, his thoughts cleared, and he found that Hermione was hovering over him, saying something. Harry hardly heard her; he just stared at her face in shock and shrugged when she finished talking. He noticed that several people were getting to their feet. Most of them passed by and wished him a good summer and good luck. Hermione and Ron both appeared over him again, and said something about leaving. Harry sighed again, noticing the room had finally emptied itself and he told them something about catching up to them.

Harry sat, staring at the room, wondering if this was going to be the last time he saw any of them. He'd see Ron and Hermione, of course. That was a given. Maybe he'd even see Neville, but everyone else was graduating, going about their chosen paths, and going on with their life. Even with Voldemort weighing down on everyone's minds, life trudged on. Then, he wondered curiously if he'd ever see this room again. School was out in two days, after all, and there was so much to do before leaving… not to mention all of the parties.

He was seventeen now, and soon, he'd be eighteen. Would he even live to see it? Would he live to see nineteen? Hermione always put a stop to the thoughts when she was around, which was why he liked to be alone once in a while. Sometimes, he just needed to think about everything.

The door creaked, which it very rarely did, and Harry turned his head towards it to see who was interrupting his peace. A hood covered their face, which was very odd. It was almost summertime now, and a cloak, even in the damp recesses of the dungeon, was almost too much to handle. The cloak that the intruder wore was heavy looking; it appeared dangerous, as if something was concealed underneath. Still, the person was all the way across the room, and he had enough time to react if it was needed.

Feeling a premonition, he stood to face the intruder. He would not allow himself to be caught unprepared. There were two things he was sure of as the figure approached slowly. One, that it was not one of the members of the DA. The galleons which had been given to the DA members all had several spells on them. One caused them to warm briefly when first coming in contact with each other and after being separated. He was fingering the one in his pocket and felt nothing. The second, and more obvious fact, was that the intruder was female. There were several reasons; one was the obvious sign of curves in the chest. There was also the presence of a strong smell, something that was more than slightly erotic.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely. This room was his room, perhaps not permanently, but certainly his for another two days. Dumbledore had given him the rights to the room, which meant he could demand that people leave the room if he needed to. He was teaching the DA, and he had certain rights to the room because of it.

The person didn't answer. Slightly angry that he'd been interrupted, wondered if he should ask again. "If you want something, ask. Otherwise, leave. I'd like to have some private time."

Still, there was no answer. Curiously, Harry looked for something that might give away who was hidden under the cloak. There was no house crest or colors anywhere that he could see. In fact, he could make out nothing under the heavy cloak.

"What house are you in?" Harry demanded without thinking.

Still, not a word was spoken. He could hear a sound, as if someone where whispering something, but it was too low to make out. The girl moved, adjusting herself under the robes. Then, suddenly the heavy robes split and wings protruded from behind the female. The person lifted their head and the cloak fell away revealing a cruel, bird like face. She'd gotten taller suddenly, by several inches, and grown considerably scarier. It was like watching a cat turn into a panther. Harry was so startled that for a moment, he didn't hear the coin he was holding drop to the floor. Then, her right hand reached out and a spark flickered to life. In an instant, it flared and became a blue fireball the size of a Bludger.

It only took an instant before Harry decided to dive out of the way, behind a chair that suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. The chair didn't last long at all, it exploded into flames and Harry stared at it, wide-eyed. He scampered back, away from the chair and found himself hiding behind another piece of furniture that had appeared.

He pulled himself to his knees and peeked over the sofa just long enough to decide it was best to duck again. Another blazing fireball went flying over his head. The walls took the brunt of the burst, and dying flames rained down on him. "What do you want?" he called, looking around for something. He held his wand tightly as he dashed across the room.

The Veela responded to his question, but not in any language he could understand. It was an ear-piercing screech, and another ball of flames shot across the room, nearly nipping him in the butt.

"Are you here to kill me?" he shouted, hiding behind an upturned table. "It would have been easier if you'd waited for me outside the door, you know. I wouldn't have spent that much time in here alone. You're not impatient, are you? Because, I sure don't intend to let myself die too quickly."

Harry rambled on, trying to keep focused on what was happening. He needed something to distract the Veela, but what could he do? He'd been trying to learn some illusion charms from Kingsley, but he hadn't done a very good job at it.

His coin. He reached into his pockets and searched for it. If he could just put a date on there. Or change the wording, something; he was sure someone would come running. It was gone. He groaned, everything was going wrong.

There was a long screech from his would-be assassin and Harry paused. He wondered if it was trying to say something to him. "Are you trying to kill me?" he repeated.

Long screech. Did it mean yes?

"Did Voldemort send you?" he asked, trying his best to determine how serious this situation was.

A squawk followed, and then several screeches, most short. Harry didn't have the slightest clue what it meant though, and decided that it was the Veela mocking his attempts at conversation. It wasn't as if he would be able to understand anyway.

"Alright," Harry called out, wondering if he should run for it again. He hadn't heard anything hit the table yet, so maybe the Veela was taking a different approach on how to kill him. He was actually quite glad she was attacking him in this form, and not trying to seduce him to death. He wasn't sure if he'd manage to resist it.

Something slammed into the backside of the table and shoved it several feet across the floor, Harry with it. Harry wondered if a shield would take a full on blast of the fire they held. Shielding couldn't hold against everything, unfortunately. However, if it could, it'd certainly give him a better chance. He decided it was worth a shot, and stood up.

The shield he conjured was his strongest as far as he could tell. The fireball struck it, and the shield looked as if it was going to hold, until a second blast cut through the shielding like a bullet.

"That's not going to work," Harry told himself as he ducked behind the table again. The Veela had moved, but not very far, so he was sure that for the moment, he was safe behind the table. It seemed to be taking the fire much better than his shield could.

"Could we just talk about this?" Harry asked in desperation. "It'd certainly be easier than trying to kill each other. I don't have anything against Veela's or Werewolves or Vampires, and I'm sure if you turned yourself in we could keep you from being harmed.

Another fireball struck the table and Harry dug in with the balls of his feet, but was still pushed several feet back. "My protection! I'll offer you my personal services; I'll keep you safe from him, and any of your friends. I'll speak with the minister personally and see to it that you'd be rewarded for defecting!"

A short, angry screech as a response caused Harry to grimace. He wasn't about to get through this the easy way. The table was shoved a few more feet and Harry wondered how many more attacks the table could handle. He knew that he didn't want to find out the hard way, though.

Harry, still trying to get over his shock, tried reviewing all the information he'd ever heard about Veela's. Ron had been interested in them at one point in his life, so Hermione had done some research about them. It turned out the Ron was particularly influenced by their charms, so whenever he was around one he had to use a specific charm to keep himself from going off the deep end to please them. Of course, it was only a phase and he acted normally around them. That is to say that he acted as normal as anyone could act around Veela's.

The easiest way to cause their powers to backfire was to appeal to them sexually. However, he wasn't exactly in a situation that had much hope of that. They were strong and they could take curses much better than a human could ever hope to. However, most powerful curses penetrated their skin without too much difficulty. At least she wasn't a giant, Harry considered brightly. That would mean he would have no chance of winning. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Well, he might as well try it; it wasn't as if his standard robes were doing him much good anyway. He could probably at least break her concentration for a little bit. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and then whispered a spell the clothing he was wearing disappeared.

Before standing up, Harry took another deep breath and prayed to whatever deity that was listening, that it would work. Holding his wand tightly, Harry jumped out from behind the table and stood there, waiting. The Veela paused, if only for a second. Harry got a straight look at her, and he could see something, a look that was almost as if she knew him, a startled look.

She moved again though, and another fireball came zipping across the room at him. Harry flicked his wand quickly, throwing an immobilizing spell, a particularly strong one, before moving. He dove out of the way of the flames, and cast a second stunning spell as fast as he could, hoping it would catch her unprepared.

The Veela took the brunt of the second curse, and staggered backwards, but Harry didn't have enough time to see how badly he'd gotten her. Another fireball came shooting towards him. "I don't want to hurt you!" he called from behind the chair he was using as a shield. "I really don't! I think everyone should have equal rights! Veela, vampire, werewolf..." another fireball exploded on the other side of the chair. "Not that I think Veela's are like vampires or werewolves."

The chair exploded again, and Harry could feel fire making it's way inside, the next fireball wouldn't be held back.

Wand ready, Harry dove out along the side of the chair and threw three consecutive curses at the Veela, each slightly more to the right than the first. From the way she'd been moving, he hoped that all three would catch her. They did, and, from his position lying on the floor, he could see the Veela stagger several steps and sway before crashing to the ground.

Running as fast as he could, Harry made it to the Veela to find that she hadn't lost consciousness. She had simply lost her sense of balance. He started to perform another spell, but he was knocked off his feet while trying to avoid yet another fireball. She screamed, or at least, he thought it was a scream. It was high pitched and awful sounding, like a wounded animal.

Somehow, the tide turned again and she was on top of him, scratching, clawing, and generally attempting to tear him apart with her clawed hands. His wand went skittering across the floor, and Harry lunged for it. However, between her weight and the claws latched into his body, he didn't have any chance of getting to it.

Harry screamed in pain and anger; it was all he could do in his situation. The figure was thrown from him violently and he looked over, only to see her getting up from across the room, slightly dazed, but immediately refocusing on him. Of all the magic he knew, none of it was going to save him. However, he had learned a little bit of physical fighting in his lifetime, though most of it was from his younger years, trying to avoid Dudley.

Almost immediately she was approaching him again, and Harry did the only thing he could, kicking outward as Harry as he could, he tried to get out of the way. She doubled over in pain. Taking the free moment this presented, he dove to the side and grabbed his wand. He could see the Veela already surging towards him again and he turned and used the most powerful curse he knew that wouldn't kill her. "Crucio!" he bellowed with every ounce of hate he could muster.

There was an explosion of light, and he was thrown backwards from the force the wand exerted. When he got to his feet rather numbly, almost scared at what he'd done, he saw the Veela on the ground, unconscious. She didn't look like she was in pain, but it was plane to see she wasn't awake.

Her eyes stared at him, almost as if she were sad, but he ignored it, his rage was too much to let her plead with him using her eyes. Then, she made a short little bow, a symbol of submission to his strength.

"Tell your master you failed," he hissed angrily, not willing to kill her. Voldemort would do enough damage to her if she ever bothered to return to him.

Besides, based on what he knew about the Veela society, he didn't need to worry about her anymore. He'd won; he was dominant to her now that she'd acknowledged his victory. So unless there was a Veela waiting for him around the corner, he didn't need to worry about being attacked. Still, he couldn't help but be careful around her; it was natural for him to be wary.

The demon continued staring at him, not talking, not screeching; she simply stared. The fire in her eyes dwindled, and the bird like features began to melt away. The claws, which had torn through his flesh so easily only minutes before, dissolved into delicate, painted fingernails. The long beak retracted, and the wings folded away until they disappeared altogether.

As her general appearance became more human, Harry found it increasingly difficult to hold his wand against her. It seemed almost a shame to mar her beautiful skin, he'd already done it, though it didn't detract from her beauty. Then, as her face became recognizable, his mouth fell open. He didn't know what to say, and when he tried to speak his words stopped somewhere between his brain and his throat. He seemed to have lost all ability to speak.

She pressed against his wand, moving forward, and Harry didn't react. He tried to tell her not to, tried to tell her he'd curse her, tried to tell her that he she couldn't push him around, but he couldn't. Then, her soft lips slid against his.

His mind protested for a brief moment. He couldn't seem to comprehend what was happening. And, quite suddenly, he was falling. The world just slipped away and he felt as he if were falling into the abyss of forever.

Harry had a vague notion of what was happening, and he distantly heard the hazy sound of a wand clattering to the floor. He stopped breathing altogether for a moment, feeling as if he'd died and had gone on to someplace wonderful, some place that smelled of vanilla and ginger and tasted like white chocolate. It didn't matter that it didn't make sense, everything was right and he didn't care.

His empty hands gingerly reached forward and touched the sides of her under-robes, the feeling of silk brushing gently against the tips of his fingers. He knew he was suppose to be hurting, and somewhere in the depths of his mind his body was telling him that he was in pain, but right now he didn't care. Everything around him was so blissful that he couldn't feel the cuts, couldn't feel the mingled blood and sweat that dripped from his body.

His hands continued forward, clutching her sides, raising her a little and pulling her forward to him. Slim hands slid around his body. They were warm hands that made him feel as if he were on fire. She was his enemy and a Veela, he'd just beaten her in a duel and he was kissing her. Everything was so wrong, so very, very wrong. At the same time, it was also so very, very right. He knew he wasn't supposed to be doing it, not with anyone, not with anyone... he couldn't remember why though, it was all very confused in his mind. He was nearly eighteen and this was so perfect, so right, so why wouldn't he want to be doing it?

His hands slipped lower, and her lower body conformed into his. He shivered in response, pressing his hips into hers. The kissing became frantic; her hand pulled his head closer to her even though it seemed strictly impossible to get any closer.

The white chocolate taste was stronger, sweeter, and richer… no longer like any chocolate he'd ever tasted. He told himself it wasn't real, that he needed to stop, that she was seducing him, trying to take advantage of him. But he wanted to be taken advantage of, he wanted to feel her pressed up against him, and he wanted to taste her soft, pail skin on his lips

She pulled away briefly, but she didn't let go. Her eyes stared at his, flashing white for an instant. His mind started to form words, questions, but before they were completely formed, she pulled herself closer again, not letting the kiss stop for more than a second. She released his lips again, leaving him to breathe freely while she continued to kiss and nip at his neck.

Was she a vampire as well? Harry wondered dazedly as her kisses swept across his skin. He was falling again, falling swiftly and the floor was soft around him, like dozens of blankets piled on top of one another. She pushed against him, the silk of her robes pressed up against his naked skin. He wanted it to stop before something happened, wanted her to stop kissing him, stop making him feel so good, but he couldn't understand why. He didn't understand how something so perfect could be wrong, or why he would even want to stop it.

His stomach flittered excitedly as her hands started to move down his back. Harry smiled…soft, smooth, gliding hands. He screamed as those hands slipped along the worst of his cuts, but the burning was gone almost as fast as it had come. His senses returned, and with them, his mind. Harry tried to push away, but she was on top and he couldn't push hard enough. He tried to scoot away, more with his feet than anything, but he only succeeded in burying himself in the blankets further.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop," he murmured over and over again. The kisses, the feeling of her hands on his body, both disappeared quite suddenly, and a part of them wanted them back. He fought it and he opened his eyes to stare at her.

"Fleur," he said weakly. "Why did you try and kill me?" he asked, almost unsure if he should ask. It was worth it, however, to just get that sort of kiss from her.

"Zis iz ze way ve find a mate," she said lovingly, a smile across her slightly beaten face. "Ze chozen von must beat us in a duel before ve can have zem."

• Completed 2005.06.01 •