Summary: There's a dark secret about the Malfoy family line that not even Draco knows. Until now, when he is shown his terrifying ancestry and his true powers begin to show...
Dark Blood
By PikaCheeka
I grabbed up "The Daily Prophet" It was sitting on my father's chair. I figured I'd look at it before he got home from work and took it for himself.
"Nothing interesting!" I snapped to nobody as I glanced at the front page. "Voldemort came back to power a month ago and still no muggle killings???
At the thought of that I couldn't help but smirk. I figured they would start happening soon. But then again, I wasn't alive last time he was in power, so I didn't know how long it took him to get his act together. I tossed the paper back onto the chair and turned to leave the room. "Hey, some house elf! Come and fold the paper!" I hollered loudly.
I waited a few minutes. Nobody came. I swore silently. If Dobby was still the servant of the house, we wouldn't have to deal with these half deaf elves that Father bought a few years ago. I went back to the stupid paper and started to fold it. In the middle, something caught my eye. I swore again and unfolded it.
"Authur Macnair, Minister of the Department of Disposal of Magical Creatures, was fired to day..." It read, followed by a story. He was most likely caught as a Death Eater. I knew that Macnair was one of Father's best friends. But if that wasn't bad enough, Father was a Death Eater too. And who knows when he would be caught?
I flung the paper down and strode off to find an unfortunate house elf to fold the paper for me.
I walked up the seven staircases to my room and threw the door open, hoping an elf was in there.
Sure enough, stupid old Slippy was there.
"You, go fold the paper." I smirked at him. He ignored my request.
"I only obey Lucius." He said snidely.
"If he ever heard you call him by that name..." I snapped. "You're supposed to call all of us Master!" I lashed out with my booted foot, kicking him as hard as I could. This resulted in myself falling back against the wall. But Slippy gave a satisfying squeal of pain and fled from the room.
I stood up and glanced at the wall I had fallen back into. It wasn't a wall, it was a mirror. I had forgotten about it. It was a full length one. As a matter of fact, I can't remember ever actually having a mirror in my room. Father said it's bad enough Mother spends half her life in front of one. He says I don't have to be like her in that sense.
Intrigued for some reason, I gazed into it.
The figure that gazed back at me was basically what I expected. A stubborn looking rich evil teenager who really looked like he was ten. I absentmindedly ran my hand through my silver-blonde hair. I suppose it could be called nearly white if you looked at it right. But I prefer it when it's silvery blonde. More unique. It wasn't quite curly, wavy, or straight. Instead, it was thick soft locks with a slight wave to the side and a point to the end that stuck up and over in every which way. Very strange, actually. I've never seen anyone else like that except my father. A few spikes in the back touched my shirt collar, Mother says that the unevenness of it all gives me a cruelly innocent look that would delight the teachers. I guess she forgot to add all the girls in the school.
My eyes were even more unusual. They're a pale gray, but when I get near the light, they turn silver. And my pupils kind of shrink away. It gives me the evilness in my look, I think. I normally have deep shadows under them. And my high thin eyebrows sharply accent that. When my hair doesn't cover them, that is.
My face is pointed, with high cheekbones and a narrow chin. I have a very narrow mouth, it looks like a thin line etched deep into my face. I have what people call a stubborn jaw, whatever that is.
I decided that it's mainly my paleness that makes people nervous. I am a rather death white color. That's one of the reasons I nearly always wear black. It accents that and the fact that my hair is a very rare color.
I couldn't help noticing how thin I was. Sometimes people asked how I was still alive when I was this slender, which greatly irritated me. Father usually chased them off. Last time I weighed myself, I was only seventy-four pounds, which is far from the average weight for a boy who will be fourteen in a few weeks. It's probably half or so.
I sighed. Then I wandered across my large room to my desk. I slumped into the chair and opened a drawer. The drawer with all my dragon pictures in it. I was named after dragons, after all. I pulled them out and leafed through them. I was utterly bored. I did have homework, but I put that off until the end of August, after my birthday. That only leaves me three days to do so, but heck. I've done it for the past few years, and it's always worked.
I flipped through them. Nearly a hundred, I should think. Norwegian Ridgebacks, Irish greens, Chinese blues, everything possible. I even have a few hurrocks. Hurrocks are nasty crosses between horses and dragons. They have a horse's body. The front legs are those of a dragon, they have wings, and they have a long horn like a unicorn. The eyes are what is catchy. They are like deep pools of black, made to suck there prey under. I love those eyes.
Suddenly, in a burst of anger that for some reason appeared, I flipped to the end of the pile.
I stared at the last one in the pile. It was immensely ugly, a specie that I created. I always hoped it did exist. It looked like an ordinary dragon, except it was death white with a black saddle shadow and had long ugly fangs. My favorite, consisting of my two favorite creatures, dragons and vampire bats.
I slammed the pile on my desk, remembering something. At the end of the year, Pansy Parkinson, stupid simpering Pansy Parkinson, had seen my pictures. She had dragged me away from all the other Slytherins and had asked me to draw her a unicorn over vacation. But I couldn't tell anyone. "Because Slytherins aren't meant to like pretty unicorns." Was how she put it.
The only reason I had agreed was I knew that she would whine forever if I had told her off. It's bad enough she hangs over me all the time, asking me out every thirty seconds, I don't need the other half the time filled with complaints. And since she's the kind of idiot who can do that, love and hate somebody at the same time, I didn't want to risk it.
I realized with a shock that I didn't even know what a unicorn really looked like. I knew it had a horn and resembled a horse type thing with goat hooves. I never paid attention to them when we looked at them in Care of Magical Creatures. Too kind, too peace-loving, for somebody who's father is a Death Eater. That's it. I didn't know the slant of the eyes or anything. "Good." Here I am, talking again to nobody. Like my parents would listen to me even if we were in the same room, which we rarely are. "Now I have an excuse not to do her a favor. I don't have the slightest idea what it looks like."
I smirked contentedly and leaned back in my high backed chair. I guess I dozed off.
Because a few minutes later, a loud crash from downstairs woke me up really fast. I jumped, then sat down again. It was probably just Father, slamming the door open. Which meant he was mad...
I jumped up again and ran downstairs, glancing at the clock as I did. Good, I thought, he wasn't home early. That means he wasn't fired today like Macnair.
By the time I reached the living room, well, one of the living rooms, he was already sitting in his chair, waving his wand around aimlessly. And aimlessly setting things afire, causing the house elves to run around squealing, putting out the fires.
I jumped back as a bolt nearly hit me, smashing my head against a chandelier that we never used. "Ow!" I cried out as my head connected with the sharp spike that lay hidden underneath it.
My father turned around and glanced at me. He quickly put his wand away, as if he had done nothing. "Hello Draco." He said quietly. He always does that, he's either quiet or immensely loud. It does get irritating sometimes.
"Umm...hi." I muttered, smoothing my hair over the gash I now had in my head. It was bleeding slightly, causing my hair to stick to my hand. I swore quietly again and rubbed the blood off on my robes. He didn't seem to notice that I was hurt, because he turned away again and set the fireplace on fire. Which wasn't sensible at all, as it was the beginning of August.
"Macnair was fired today." He finally said.
I opened my mouth to say 'I know', then instantly closed it again. Then I'd have to admit I looked at the paper before him, which usually sends him into a rage. And after the one he had just been in two seconds ago, I figured that another would be even worse. Maybe he'd purposely try to burn my head off. I shrugged and said "How?"
"Well, they found out he was a Death Eater somehow. And everyone there is so uptight about Lord Voldemort returning they're looking for any excuse to fire somebody."
I nodded dumbly. He had his back to me, and there was no way he could see my. I couldn't even see him, actually.
He turned around again, leaning over the arm of the chair and raised one eyebrow at me, as if asking what was wrong with me today. His gray eyes turned silver in the firelight, giving him a very eerie look.
I had no clue what to say. "That's too bad..." I said slowly, then raised my hand instinctively up to the gash in my forehead. The blood was running down into my eyes, I guess it was bleeding badly now. I wanted to leave, but you just don't walk out on my father.
"What did you do?" he asked carefully, eyeing the blood down my robes.
"I hit my head on that." I nodded over to the chandelier.
"How intelligent of you. Go have Narcissa clean it up for you." Then he turned away again.
I slipped from the room, glad for the excuse to leave. He was in a very dangerous mood today.
Mother only sighed at me and flicked her wand. The pain left and the blood vanished. She's a better nurse then that stupid Pomfrey lady at school. Even if everyone thinks she's only a dumb blonde. I guess it's true she had no clue how to be a mother. That's probably why she has my father do all the parenting in the house.
But then again, if it wasn't for her. I could be going to Durmstrang instead. They teach the Dark Arts there. And I really want to learn those. But she insisted that I go to Hogwarts because it's a lot closer to home. She reminds me a lot like a thirty-eight-year old Pansy sometimes.
"Now go change." She smiled at me. I forced a smile back, then slipped from that room too.
I wasn't in the mood for supper, so I spent the whole evening in my room. The whole unicorn thing was really irritating though. I didn't want Pansy to get really mad at me and stop hanging around me. It would be bad for my reputation. Nobody in the other three houses at Hogwarts would want a boyfriend from Slytherin, even though ninety percent of them look at me longingly, except Granger, never Graner. That's the reason Potter and Weasley come in handy, they keep her girlie heart occupied. We're to good for everyone else, I think. And there aren't that many Slytherin girls, so Pansy'll have to do until I graduate.
After an hour of skimming through my schoolbooks, I decided to risk going down and asking my father about the unicorn. Even though everyone thinks he's stupid to be a Death Eater, he's from Voldemort's inner circle, and only the smartest Death Eaters make it there. Besides, he was head boy at Hogwarts until he beat Arthur Weasley to a pulp at the end of his seventh year.
I entered the living room again. Father was still in his chair, fuming, staring into the fireplace. I noticed that he was as thin as I. He just wore baggy robes. That slightly enlightened me. Even his boots were oversized. This confused me for a moment though. Was there something wrong with being this narrow?
"Umm...Father? Do you have any books on unicorns?" I asked, I pried me eyes away from his boots and looked him in the eye for a moment.
This time I am facing him, between the fire and him. The look he gave me was so full of iciness, I didn't know whether to feel hot or cold. I shivered. This caused him to smirk.
"Why?" he took a sip of that deep red wine he always drinks.
"Umm..." I didn't want to tell him exactly why. It was embarrassing.
He finished that glass of wine and poured himself another.
I didn't think that was super intelligent. I mean, only a few hours ago, he had said that the people at work were desperate to fire anybody. And I think walking into work drunk was grounds for being fired.
"You shouldn't drink that much..." I blurted out, felling very stupid.
"You know I don't get drunk."
He was still glaring at me over the top of the glass. I knew he was lying. I could remember a time a few years back when he had gotten dangerously so. He had slept for three days afterward.
"Not on this stuff anyhow." He added, guessing what I was thinking.
"Then why can I never have any?" I said. I was being stupid.
"It's too rich for you. When you're seventeen."
I didn't question the odd number.
After downing that glass too, he stood up. "I'll go get the unicorn book. I'll return in a moment."
He turned and swept from the room, his pitch black and jade green robes billowing after him.
I stared at the glass on the table, that he had refilled before he left. What could a tiny sip hurt? I leaned forward, and quickly glanced up to see if he was returning yet. He wasn't. I grabbed it up and took a tiny sip. I gagged and crumpled over. It had an oddly familiar taste.
Straightening up, I realized I liked it. I emptied the glass without thinking. Then I stared at it. I looked at the bottle, the color, the taste. I knew what it was.
Father returned a moment later. He must have seen a very odd sight. I was standing there, staring numbly at the glass, now empty.
"Draco?" he said quietly. To my shock, there was a look of concern on his face.
"It's blood." I said faintly. Then the blackness rushed in at all sides and I knew no more.
I woke up to see father, whom I prefer to call Lucius at the moment, standing over me. The look of concern was still evident on his face. Which didn't seem to fit him at all.
"Are you all right?" he said finally.
I nodded faintly, causing my head to hit the floor. I sat up quickly. Then I remembered the blood. "Father?" I said quietly. "Why were you drinking blood?"
I glanced up at him. He froze for a second, then sighed and sank down into his chair. "All Malfoys, no matter who they marry, will always be 80% vampire."
I stared at him dumbly for a moment, letting the words sink in. "Vampire? I'm a vampire?"
"Partly." He sighed. "I didn't want you to know until you were seventeen. That's when you start needing this." He nodded toward the bottle.
"But you married a plain witch!"
"Vampire blood is so powerful it shows no matter who you marry. I just said that. We are still purebloods, just a different sort. A dangerous sort."
"But...I'm..." I trailed off. I was about to say that I didn't look like one. But I knew it was true that I did.
"That's why you have silver blonde hair and gray eyes. That's why you have pale skin and a pointed face. That's why you are so slender." He said slowly.
"Are we immortal?" I said quickly. That rather appealed to me.
A faint shadow of a smirk showed on his face. "No, we are not immortal."
That confused me. Father looked a lot younger then his forty years. A lot younger, maybe ten years younger. When he had first gotten his job, he had taken me in, and I wandered the halls. A lot of other people working there were saying how he was too young to have a son my age. So I had to barge into a lot of rooms and yell out that he was twenty-six when I was born. That usually shut them up, after they looked et me oddly. I was only ten then.
"And why can we be in sunlight?" I had a flood of questions.
"We are only part. We have certain characteristics."
"Can I turn into a bat?" That way, I would be able to sneak around school.
"We are animagi, and we can become bats. Very large vampire bats, mind you. And some can become dragons, probably you..."
I smirked, looking like him. I can imagine the screams I could get at school when I turned into a full fledged dragon or vampire bat. "But I thought animagi could only become one animal..."
"A bat is not really you, it's just the vampire in you. You are the dragon. Your temper..."
I ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling for fangs. My canines, I realized with a start. "My canines are really sharp."
"Yes. They will get sharper as you get older, and slightly longer. When you smile, why do you never show your teeth?" he asked me a question this time.
I was confused for a moment. "O. Because it was instinct. I can't go around showing my fangs to everybody, can I?"
Father really did smirk this time. "No. Nobody knows about it."
"Does Voldemort?" I said suddenly.
"Voldemort knows all." Was all he said. I noticed his smile flickered and dark shadows danced in his eyes.
"So he does know then."
"Yes." He sighed.
"Is that all?"
"Well, maybe a few unfortunate muggles. But they don't remember anymore." A glint of malice showed in his eyes, replacing the shadows.
"Forgot?" I said, startled.
"O, they faint. Then the wake up and don't remember anything."
"O...do they become vampires too though?"
"No."
"But..."
"We are only part. I can live without fresh blood."
"Then why do you..."
"It's fun." He smirked again.
"Does Mom know?" I said suddenly.
"I think she suspects." He shrugged, something he rarely does. I realized with a start that he was doing another unusual thing. He was talking to me normally.
"But I thought vampires were tall." I said dismally. I've always been a few inches shorter then the rest of the grade.
"Some are, some aren't. And we are only part." I could tell he was starting to get irritated with all my questions.
"Can I drink this stuff now? I like it..." I nodded over to the bottle.
"Yes, I guess. It might send your blood out a little faster then it did for me."
"Is that why you never get..." I started to say.
"Ah, yes, the forgotten unicorn!" he cut me off, brandishing a thick book called "A Gathering, A glory, of Unicorns."
"O yea." I sighed. It didn't appeal to me at all anymore. "Why did you name me Draco then, and not Dracula?" I persisted.
"I like dragons. And you obviously do too, drawing them all day." He had a look of disgust on his face.
"But you said that even Voldemort liked to draw."
"Yes, I suppose."
"Who are you named after?"
"Lucifer."
"Who?"
"The devil." The thought of having a father named after the devil caused me involuntarily to shudder. I think he noticed, because he grinned at me, showing his teeth after fourteen years of smirking or sneering. I realized his canines. They were maybe a little longer then twice the usual length, but not quite protruding fangs. They were immensely sharp and cool looking.
"O." I stared at him. I realized for the first time how truly evil he did look. I hoped I would look like him when I grew up, I already did for the most part.
Satisfied for the most part, I picked up the unicorn book.
He grabbed my arm and handed me another book. Startled, I glanced at it. "The History of The Malfoy family." It said.
"Go read it. Then you can stop the tide of questions. Draco Salazar Lucius Malfoy." He let go of my arm.
I jumped. I had never known my full name. "Is that my real name?" I gasped.
"Yes. And I believe you will live up to it very well, son."
I smiled at him and turned away, heading back to my room, glowing with pride.
Damn Bloody Pride.
A long A/n... In case you haven't figured it out yet, Draco shares my b-day, the 28th of August. Heh heh. I know this is a bit of a short fic on such a huge subject, but I just really wanted to write it. I've imagined him as a vampire since I read the first book when it first came out. And I do not share Lucius's taste in drawing, As a matter of fact, I love it, especially anime-izing Harry Potter people and dragons. [I love that ending line. Beep bloody pride...I know it's a bad word, but it fits the fic so well, and Draco, as a matter of fact] And no, this has nothing to do with the Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles, I didn't even know those existed until I wrote this up. Well, thank you, hoped you liked it! ::turns into dragon and flies off::