Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
I am away from home and actually started the other chapter to my other story, alas, I forgot to bring it. Oh well. At least I'm writing something. Also, there's going to be slash.
Abraxas knew he was well above his peers. Well bred, with silver-grey eyes and long, platinum blond locks elegantly tied to the side—these hereditary traits were predominantly found among the pure-blooded, esteemed members of the Malfoy family.
The Malfoy family was, of course, the best of the best. They built strong networks with most, if not all, pureblooded families, and were conspicuously rich. The Malfoys held seats in the Wizengamot; as such, the laws concerning purebloods and traditions were well controlled, as the Malfoy's influences in the Ministry was deep rooted and long-standing.
Their noble family was well-versed in the Dark Arts—the most wild, and vehemently powerful type of magic known to the wizardry world. Unfortunately, due to the Dark Lord's influence, it is now associated with evil, greed, and insanity. A mere mention of such dark magic would spur hushed, trembling whispers and recounts of unadulterated fear as the war gradually spread across the world.
Their dear cousins, the Blacks, were known for their mastery in the Dark Arts. Their creative expressions with such magic contributed greatly to the unadulterated fear associated with it. As such, the Dark Lord Grindelwald personally requested for both families' services. It was the highest honor for both parties, as the position was held in high regard.
With the purebloods on the side of a great, powerful lord, there was no possible way for the Dark to lose.
The Malfoys always chooses the winning side.
After all, the Malfoys were the best.
.
A resounding crack echoed across the once silent Malfoy manor, jolting Abraxas from his reverie.
'It must be father,' Abraxas thought, 'as the wards would never let anyone but direct blood relatives to enter.' A loud thump and sounds of glass crashing alerted him, causing great curiosity in him as he gently closed his book.
"What could it be?" He murmured. His father was the picturesque representation of immense elegance and nobility. There would be no possible way that he would make such a commotion.
Frowning, he picked an invisible piece of dirt off of his finely tailored coat, muttering about noisy, useless elves, before standing up from his exquisitely crafted seat in the family's library.
As he started to head towards the source of the clamoring, an ear-splitting, high-pitched keen erupted within the building, causing him to collapse in pain from the sudden noise.
Tightly closing his eyes, Abraxas curled into himself as he gritted his teeth, attempting in vain to block out the sound with his hands.
After a few seconds of what seemed like an eternity to the young heir, the sound abruptly stopped. Releasing a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Abraxas blearily opened his eyes.
'What in the name of Merlin was that?'
Slowly pushing himself off the soft, luxurious rug to stand, he delicately cradled his head, groaning as he became lightheaded from the moderate change in elevation. His head throbbed relentlessly, serving remind him again of that blasted sound that mercilessly pierced his temples.
A slight 'pop' to his left caused him to grimace, as his eardrums were still quite sensitive to sound.
The nervous elf shifted from foot to foot before apologizing profusely. After bowing and spewing more apologies before Abraxas's deathly glare, he finally informed him that his presence was required in the family's private chamber. After hurrying to the chamber, what met his eyes paralyzed him.
His father, tattered, bloodied, and heavily breathing, was holding a shivering creature with inky black wings in his arms. The creature's dark, messy curls, sordid from the mixture of blood and sweat, clung to his milky, pale forehead, covering his eyes as he trembled in what seemed like immense fear. Blood red lips parted to make a soft whine, as his trembling hands clutched the remains of his father's robes. The creature's eyes seemed to nervously shift around his surroundings, strewn with shards of cracked glasses and vases.
"Abraxas."
His mother snapped him out of his daze, thinning her painted lips as she motioned him to come closer.
Careful to avoid the glass near his expensive, dragon hide-clad feet, Abraxas cautiously maneuvered himself towards his mother, wondering why she didn't banish the mess.
"He's scared of any use of magic. That's what caused the mess in the first place," she softly said, as if sensing his thoughts.
Nodding, he turned to the creature in his father arms. Aware of the new set of eyes on him, the blood-stained creature tensed as his wings stiffened around him in preparation for a flight or fight response.
"Shh..." his mother soothingly said, "he's here to help you."
Abraxas stared confusedly at his mother, having absolutely no idea of his role in this predicament. What in Merlin was h—
"Give him your blood." A hoarse voice broke his thoughts.
Abraxas gaped at his father. "B-but...Father! I don't know wha—"
"Now!" Lord Malfoy snarled. Having little patience for his son's hesitance in the matter, the Malfoy Lord grabbed the young boy's arm, forcibly pushing his embroidered coat's sleeve up to reveal pale, unmarred skin. Muttering a simple hex, he thinly sliced Abraxas's arm, startling him.
The creature's head snapped towards his arm at once, greedily drinking the offering. A large wave of pleasure shot up from Abraxas's arm, plunging him into a dizzying haze. After a prolonged moment of feeding, the creature finally released him.
Wobbling, the young aristocrat was led to a nearby chair after the mess was banished, still in a dizzying, drowsy haze.
"Grind...wald... forces...wiped...treaty..."
He was so sleepy.
"Vampires...failed..."
After catching a few more snippets of his parents' conversation, Abraxas finally succumbed to the welcoming darkness, not before seeing a flash of worried, emerald eyes.
