Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter. (shock, awe) Yes, I know! Hard to believe isn't it? Also, this piece is a parody.

Dedication: This is for I Kiss Dementors a.k.a. Lady Myotismon who inspired the idea.

The Facts:

Veela, as anyone will tell you, are curious creatures. They are simultaneously one of the most beautiful and one of the most hideous creatures on Earth. They can ensnare men with their song and beguile the world with their dance… It is rare for a Veela to mate with a human, but it happens from time to time. Sometimes this occurs when they find a man who is worthy of their affections, but more often when a man they have enraptured becomes so incredibly frustrated that they resort to desperate measures to win the object of their affections.

The fruit of such unions are, invariably, troubled children.

They have the thoughts, the feelings, and the desires of a normal human being, but at the same time they are burdened with the fickleness and instability of the Veela. These children are often looked upon as great beauties by human standards, and if female they invariably attract even more attention than a true Veela, for the threat they pose to a man's senses is seen as less dire. Human males therefore believe, mistakenly, that they have more control over themselves. That they are "safer". Those poor misguided fools.

The children of Humans and Veela almost inevitably have turbulent and difficult home lives, as Veela are rarely maternal once their child reaches puberty. Indeed, many True Veela show little to no connection with their offspring, often seeing them as nothing more than competition and a threat to their standing. Naturally all these hardships tend to produce troubled youngsters, but most Veela-human-crossbreeds are capable of integrating into human society, provided they are frequently in contact with human beings.

However, no matter how fully they adjust, there is one thing that plagues them. One occurrence so horrific that it wakes these unfortunate souls in the middle of the night. It steals their very breath from them should they even imagine it. This nightmare, this torment, this terrible affliction haunts every single creature cursed with a drop of Veela blood in their veins. Of course it is: The Vernal Equinox.

This event signifies the beginning of springtime, of mating season, of flowering, of bud-time, of seedtime, of springtime… and so and so forth. Basically, the snow melts. Anyway. Every ten years, for one week following this seemingly benign astronomical event, the Veela of the world are overwhelmed with hormones and pheromones urging the unfortunate beasts to mate. To the unsuspecting human male, they are utterly irresistible.

While this is a time of joy and gaiety for true Veela, for those with diluted blood it is a distressing, confusing and exhausting time where they become a slave to their carnal desires. For those of them who toured with the Rolling Stones earlier in life, this is hardly a new experience, but it is a terrifying one nonetheless. Their nerves are raw, their mood is tempestuous, and they are rarely able to sleep with the libidinous energy of the Veela pulsing through them.

Perhaps most upsettingly of all, any heterosexual post-pubescent males they come in contact with will find them ineluctably ravishing, regardless of the nature of their relationship.

Most of those who are affected by this hellish ordeal lock themselves away from society during this time. They have a stockpile of food and a few good books, and wait for it to be over. (Or, on the off chance that they've been married a while and want to spice things up a bit, one would imagine they'd have quite a good time to themselves. However instances of this behaviour have yet to be confirmed. But, come on, common sense dictates that it would obviously occur from time-to-time, who are we kidding?)

But there are certain pitiable individuals who have commitments. Be they work commitments, family commitments or any other form of commitment, these poor devils genuinely believe that they must go out into society during this week. By doing so they leave themselves susceptible to all manner of horrors.

Our prayers are with these poor, misguided fools.

-

The Slightly Less Factual Facts:

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Veela Mating Season starts tomorrow."

"Does it?"

"Yup."

"Why do we care?"

"Because, dummy, there's a Veela at Hogwarts."

"There is? Who?"

"Nobody knows."

"Well if they don't know who it is, how do they know that there is one?"

"Because Hannah Abbot overheard Dumbledore talking to Snape about it this morning. He said it would probably cause chaos. He was asking if there was anything Snape thought he could do to, ah, control the population."

"Why are you winking at me you freak?"

"Because it… oh never mind. Anyway, who do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Grace Branstone in Ravenclaw?"

"Get real! If that girl had any magical powers over men she would've nabbed Roger Davies eons ago."

"Well then I don't know."

"What about that bloke in Slytherin… Malfoy?"

"Oh please, don't be an idiot."

"Well why not? He's got the hair for it."

"Newsflash: Blond hair does not a Veela make."

"But it's all silvery blond. And he's pale."

"Yes. Which indicates a lack of melanin, not Veela-ism. Besides, it can't be him."

"Why not?"

"Because whoever it is would have to be part Veela AND part human. Which means they would be female."

"How'd you figure?"

"Because, you moron, true Veela can't work a bloody wand. If they could work one do you honestly think they'd let themselves be used a mascots for a Quidditch team?"

"Well, all right, no."

"Right. So it would have to be part Veela and part human, and everybody knows that when Veela mate with humans the offspring are always female."

"Why?"

"… Well I don't know, do I? Maybe the Veela blood destroys the Y chromosome or something. But the point is, Veela women who mate with human males only ever have daughters."

"Well what if it's the father who's a Veela and not the mother who's a Veela?"

"Well that would never happen."

"Why not?"

"Because male Veela are hideously ugly."

"They are?"

"Well… I suppose they must be rather attractive to female Veela. Otherwise they would've died out, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose. Still, who do you think it is then?"

"Dunno. But I guess we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?"

-

The Meeting:

"Professor McGonagall, may I have a word with you?" Albus asked from the doorway, as Minerva was filing away the pile of homework she'd just marked.

Despite herself, Minerva sighed. "Oh Albus, must you? It's late."

He chuckled. "Regrettably, I must Minerva." he told her.

Minerva looked over to him. He wore a perfectly polite expression and seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be genuinely sorry about having to bother her. This fact placated her slightly. But only slightly. "Oh fine." she snapped, indicating the chair in front of her desk.

Albus took it, apparently unperturbed by her abrupt manner. "Minerva, while I would truly loathe to appear presumptuous, I must confess that I have a slight suspicion you are beginning to feel the effects of the equinox?"

Minerva did not respond for minute. She continued to file away her sixth year class's homework marks. When she finished, she slammed the drawer shut with a ringing bang and threw herself into her chair in a manner highly reminiscent of the teenagers she taught. "It's a nightmare." she muttered. "A complete nightmare. Part of me wishes the damned thing would hurry up and start already, because at least then I wouldn't have to sit here waiting for it. Not to mention the amount of headaches I've given myself worrying about it."

"Alas, we cannot change time, nor can we prevent the inevitable Minerva." Albus told her simply.

Minerva glared at him. "I am perfectly well aware of the fact Albus. That is why this desire was relegated to a 'wish'. Were there any tangible possibility of it actually occurring then believe me, it would have been done already." she said in her more mature and non-teenaged voice. "That does not change the fact that the desire is still there."

"Quite." Albus agreed. "As I understand it, young Miss Delacour of the Beauxbatons delegation will be placed in a similar predicament. She will of course be staying in the Beauxbatons carriage, but I'm quite certain I could arrange for a meeting if you wished to, ah, share your pain?" he offered. His eyes were glinting in a manner which made Minerva all too aware of the fact that she was being teased, but her irritable mood dictated that she rise to the bait all the same.

"Thank you Albus, but I would rather suffer in silence." she told him firmly.

"Very well." the Headmaster conceded with a nod. "If you should change your mind, let me know."

"I'll do that." Minerva said dryly, making it abundantly clear that she would sooner drown herself in the lake than do any such thing. While she may have respected Albus Dumbledore more than anyone else on the planet, but she really wanted nothing more than to strangle him on occasions.

He obviously sensed her frustration as he chuckled lightly to himself. "My dear Minerva, I simply do not understand why you must insist upon turning this into a bad thing."

Minerva glared at him. "Albus, I do not turn it into a bad thing, it simply is a bad thing." she told him matter-of-factly.

"I am quite certain you could put a positive spin on the situation if you so chose." Albus said in an aggravatingly equitable tone.

Minerva tried not to grind her teeth. "Somehow I doubt that." she said darkly.

Dumbledore appeared contemplative for a moment. "If you feel it is too much of an ordeal for you, I am quite certain I could fend off the ravages of age and senility long enough to teach your class for a week." he offered, in an upsettingly gentlemanly fashion.

"I am quite capable of teaching my class." Minerva told him threateningly.

"That was never in question Minerva." Dumbledore responded. "Though I would loathe to make things more uncomfortable for you than they already are."

Minerva remembered who she was speaking to and swiftly realised that Dumbledore was unlikely to be insulting her ability to do her job. She sighed. "As much as I would love to tell you that taking your offer would mean a week of rest and relaxation for me, Dumbledore, it wouldn't. Quite apart from the fact that my symptoms would persist, I am not particularly inclined to run from my problems. Hiding under the bed sheets has never really been something I felt comfortable with."

Albus nodded in acknowledgement of this fact, but did not look any less amused. "No, it never was your forte, was it?"

"No."

"Pity. You could have spent the week with young Miss Delacour. I understand she's an excellent chess player. You could have had a few, what's the term? 'Girly Nights In' together."

Had anyone else said that sentence to her, even in jest, Minerva would have cursed them. Since she knew she couldn't curse Dumbledore if she tried, and wouldn't even if she could, Minerva settled for a heartfelt glare.

"Perhaps not." He conceded, entirely unaffected by her lethal glower. Shifting to a more business-like mode, Dumbledore took his pocket watch out and examined it with mild interest. "According to Professor Sinistra's calculations, the Vernal equinox should occur at precisely twenty-two minutes to one on Sunday morning. Symptoms will persist until the same time the following Sunday, as I'm sure you're aware. This means you have approximately two hours to prepare."

"Yes. Quite." Minerva said, spotting her exit strategy. "Well, I should set about doing that. Preparing, I mean. I shall contact you if I need anything."

"I have no doubt." Dumbledore said pleasantly, getting to his feet and heading towards the door. "Good evening, Professor."

"Good evening, Headmaster." Minerva returned, in the least murderous tone she could muster.

Dumbledore disappeared through the door and Minerva waited a full two minutes before she set about preparing.

She started by banging her head off a wall and swearing.

"It's going to be a hell of a long week." she muttered. After all, it always was.