Authors Note: Well, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction! My past ones were so bad I ditched the name entirely and started a-new. I hope you enjoy this, for it came to me just a few minutes ago while listening to Bjork!
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own Harry Potter. They are the bi-product of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic. Ciao.
Warning: This is going to have some… little slashy moments in the future of the Fic. Nothing big, just some kisses. Like I could write a sex scene!
*Edit* Er… going through this, editing it… maybe continuing it… don't take my word for it!
There was an eerie silence hanging over the area of Privet Drive. The faint sound of fireworks filtered through the foggy air as the leaves on the trees began to turn up, a sure sign of rain. No car drove on the black tarred streets, no owl hooted in the distance. Everything was normal, well, as normal as can possibly be. Except for one small, tiny little thing…
A tall, thin man had just dropped off a small bundle on the Welcome mat of the Number Four residence. A bundle which deeply interested a man hiding in the shadows of number 5 Privet Drive. A man who by which all means shouldn't have been hiding at all. It was his son's birthright, and under his race's Law he was expected to bring this bundle to his son. The man stepped from the shadows of number 5 and swiftly crossed the street to rest on the curb of number 4. The air reeked of spells. Protection spells, Monitoring spells… wards. Oh how he hated protection wards… they were a fickle thing, for something as dark as a Vampire…
After 10 minutes of severe concentration, the wards were of no issue to the Vampire.
'How ingenious…' he thought, 'only those who mean him no harm may enter the premises… how very, very like Him. Such a sentimental fool He is…' He crouched down and grimaced, for it was such a plebian thing to do. A man such of his stature should never sink so low. He quickly scooped the bundle into his arms and exited the wards. He gazed down to the lithe form of one Harry James Potter… and smirked. Revenge was sweet, and he savored each moment of it. The hardships his kind had endured, along with the constant worry of his secret being discovered… and yet, here he held the savior of the Wizarding World… the Boy-Who-Lived…
'Such an idiotic name that is, too,' he thought, 'Just a pathetic title so the fools have something to grasp on to when they need it… this is for the best; he would be nothing but a servant if he were to remain here.' And so the aristocratic form of Lucius Malfoy disappeared in one clean sweep of his cloak. And along with him the quintessential of Heroes, the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.
So… what up?