Creature

A Drarry Fanfic

By S

A/N: I've had too many pennames to count and too many fresh starts that have all ended in hiatus. Wish me luck on this endeavor. :]

Summary: Half-breed. Mudblood. Blood traitor. The words Draco despised. Now… he was one of them. And his father knew about it.

Prologue: Half-Breed

September 29, 2009

Only the Malfoys would actually consider having white carpet adorn the marble floors of the manor's study. It was a mocking color. It showed the tiniest drops of red wine and dirt… but not today. Today it was the deepest red, close to black even, with splotches of brighter red mingled in. People who say that the Malfoys are above physical violence should go shoot themselves in the head right now.

Draco Malfoy, scion of the Malfoy line, spat a mouthful of blood on the ruined rug and resumed to coughing up more. Apparently his father was very much acquainted with Severus' little curse and had used it with varying amounts of strength so the wounds would be superficial but hurt like a bitch.

There were multiple lacerations and bruised littered across the blonde's body, a couple of broken ribs and possibly his arm and ankle. Lucius' latest use of the Sectumsempra had left four new gashes on Draco's back and torso. Oddly enough, there wasn't a single mark on Draco's face. Sure blood was dribbling down his chin in the most unglamorous manner but not a single cut or bruise was on his face.

"Father… please… stop…" Draco squeezed his eyes shut as his body was wracked once more with bloodied coughing. Dear Merlin, I think he might have punctured my lung or something.

Every part of his body was burning… as it had been for the past four days. These little torture sessions began without warning. Lucius just arrived once night and proceeded to brutally hurt his son. It would last the better part of the day and stop when the Dark Lord would summon him. His mother would try her best to heal his wounds but before he fully recovered, Lucius would be back and start the cycle over again.

"Father…" Draco mumbled, his hand holding his side.

"I am not your father, Draco." Lucius said coolly. "You will not refer to me as such."

Confusion clouded Draco's pain-muddled mind. What the fuck did his father mean by that? Of course he was his father. They bloody looked like twins!

Lucius knelt down by the fallen teen and grasped his chin delicately. "Has treacherous mother not told you of her sin? The sin she dared conceal from me for the past 17 years?" He wiped blood from Draco's lips with a smirk and gave him a long, deep kiss. Draco was too stunned to react.

"What—"

Lucius grinned maliciously. "You are not my son, Draco, as I've recently learned from a certain Seer's old, old prophecy. You're actually brother's son. Remember him? The blood traitor? We looked incredibly alike you know. That's probably why you look like my carbon copy."

Draco would gasp but the intense pain coming from chest prevented him from doing so. It couldn't be true… he was Lucius Malfoy's son! There was no way he was the son of a blood traitor, brother or not!

"But that isn't all, little dragon. Your father wasn't just a blood traitor, he was a disgusting half-breed. A faerie. It was a recessive trait that unfortunately manifested in him. Such a waste. It seems that Cissy was one as well… That would be the explanation why they were drawn to each other."

Lucius looked thoughtful. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is how the Dark Lord is going to react to one of his Death Eaters being anything less than pure—"

White light. Multiple cracks. His father's wand flew into someone's outstretched palm.

"Hold it right there, Malfoy—" was the last thing Draco heard before succumbing to much-awaited unconsciousness.

Narcissa Malfoy was worried about her son. Despite being in her ancestral home, she felt on edge surrounded by members of the Light. It was all her fault, she knew. If only she had offed that bloody Seer when she had the chance she wouldn't have squealed—

"Aunt Cissy?"

My. She hadn't been called that in ages. Has it really been that long?

"Hello Nymphadora." Narcissa greeted with a smile. "How is Andromeda?"

Tonks grumbled about being called her given name but replied cheerily. "Fine, Aunt Cissy. She misses you, you know. I always see her looking at your old albums."

Narcissa smiled wistfully. "Andromeda was always the sentimental one." She turned around from the family tree tapestry and let a worried look cross her face. "How is Draco?"

"He's stable for now," Tonks said truthfully, "But he has a long way to go before he fully recovers… and not just from his physical wounds."

"May I see him?"

"I'm afraid not. Dumbledore wants to meet with you first."

Narcissa sighed. Draco would have to wait. "Alright."

"This way."

It's been a week, a whole week of drifting in and out of consciousness. Draco blinked one weary eye open and was thankful for the thick velvet curtains that blocked the sunlight streaming from the window. He felt a small stabbing pain from his bandage-wrapped chest and started coughing uncontrollably.

A warm, pale hand helped him back to his pillows and put a vial of potion to his lips. Recognizing the foul smell of bone-regrowth potion, Draco grabbed the vial and downed the whole thing in one gulp. "Gross."

"Sorry." Draco looked up and saw the werewolf looking somewhat less haggard when he last saw him. "How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco snort. "Like shit. Father tortured me for god-knows-how-long, what do you expect?"

Remus looked at him with pity. "I'm sorry. He should've have never found out."

"I don't need your pity, werewolf." Draco snapped, "Just because mother told you some details doesn't mean you understand."

"Of course I understand, Draco." Remus replied, unaffected by the teenager's words. "I was there when the seer prophesized it."

Draco looked at him sharply. "Who else knows?" No one can no about this… disease. They can't.

"Me and Severus. That's about it. No one else knows about the prophecy. I take it you don't either."

Draco turned his head away from Remus. "I don't want to know. Hearing my father say what I am is enough."

"The time has not yet come it seems." Draco kept silent. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then, Draco."

The door shut with a loud creaking sound. God this house was falling apart.

Ignoring the pain resonating from every pore of his body, Draco let out a long, loud shout of anger. He grabbed the empty vial from the bedside and threw it as hard as he could at the door. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed in protest.

"I fucking hate this."

PS: How is it? It's been what? Almost a year since I've written anything coherent. :]] Do review. I appreciate criticism. Flames shall be thrown back in the form of Molotov Cocktails.

theVoiceInsideYourHead