Something Changes
Chapter 2 – Something Really Changed
Everything was cold. Draco didn't know whom or where he was, why he was where he was or how he had gotten to that place. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, and he has a head-splitting headache. Where am I…? His hands groped around and picked up some dirt from the floor with his fingernails. The floor? He was on the floor? Draco opened his eyes and above him was Victos, licking his lips, blood smeared across his face. He pulled off Draco and with waiting, disappeared into the night.
Draco whined in pain, as he brought his fingers up to his neck and felt two small holes punctured into his flesh, blood dripping out slowly. He looked down at his hands, which were covered in dirt and had become a ghastly shade of white. He was even paler than he had been before and his fingers shook. He felt no warmth.
"Draco…?" A hiss came from the table as he realized that he was still in the dining room. He didn't like this voice and he numbly turned his head in the direction of the voice.
The Dark Lord stood a good distance away, wand extended and ready, should he need to use it. "Draco…?" he hissed again. "Are you awake?" Draco managed a nod and twisted himself as his eyes met the Dark Lord's.
"What's happened?" He winced. "It hurts." A tear ran down Draco's pale face.
"You were bitten, Draco."
"Bitten? By what?" he drawled, his neck and chest burning and yet freezing at the same time.
"Think, Draco."
"Yansmer…" He concluded a moment later.
"Mhmm… Very good." The Dark Lord cooed.
Draco twitched on the stone floor and clamped his eyes shut in an attempt to ease the pain, but nothing worked. His stomach rumbled moments later.
"Hungry. Draco?"
"Yes…" He managed to mutter, his agony increasing triple-fold.
The Dark Lord grinned devilishly. "McNair!" he called.
McNair, an old and thin man, appeared quickly at the door, his eyes immediately falling on Draco's figure sprawled out on the floor groaning. "Y-yes, My Lord?" He asked nervously, his eyes never leaving Draco's body.
"Bring me the blood."
"Yes, M'Lord." And McNair was gone as fast as he had come, running out of the room at full speed.
Draco turned his head to face the Dark Lord. "Blood?" he asked weakly.
"Yes, Draco. You were bitten by a vampire; of course you would drink blood."
"I'm a vampire?"
"Seriously, Draco, how slow are you?"
Draco said no more, worry in his mind and hate bubbling inside him. Who was he to do this to him? Well, he was the Dark Lord but that was beside the point. McNair arrived with what appeared to be a bucket of red viscous blood. Draco didn't even register when the Dark Lord commanded McNair to give the bowl to Draco. The old man nervously knelt down beside the young Malfoy's body and though he was shaking, placed the bowl to Draco's lips.
"Drink." The Dark Lords commanded from the table, his wand still extended toward the new vampire. And Draco did. Morally, he knew he shouldn't have liked it, but he couldn't help it. He drank until he felt drowsy and before he knew he had fallen asleep, blood dripping from his teeth, which had become longer and a whole lot shaper. He was a vampire now… he thought just before he lost conciseness. What was he to do?
Draco awoke in a dark room. He was sprawled out, lying up against a grey wall. He opened his eyes groggily and they darted around what looked like a cellar. He concluded that was still in Malfoy Manor, but in a room he had never seen before, by the craving of a snake in the wall. Was this the basement? Worse, the dungeons? Yes, he thought, the dungeons.
"Mr. Malfoy?" a squeaky voice spoke, stuttering and stammering.
"Mmmh?" Draco felt dead… wait, I am dead… he thought. He tried to remember back to third and fourth year, where they had learned about vampires in Defense Against The Dark Arts. Draco wished he had paid attention, wished hew hadn't been so naïve… Bits and pieces came back, only words… childe… sire… blood… night… but they all meant nothing.
He looked at the voice that called him and met with a ratty face. He turned his head away in disgust and sighed.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Peter 'Wormtail' Pettigrew squeaked again. The nervous rat of a man kept a good distance away from him, peaking his head out from behind the barred door.
"What?" He drowned.
"I've… come to… feed you…" He literally shook as he spoke.
"Feed me?" Draco lightened up slightly at the prospect of food. H hadn't even realized just how hungry he was. He felt empty, broken, but mostly, he felt hungry.
"Y-yes." Wormtail muttered,
Draco's silver eyes, dead yet so alive, pierced Wormtail's beady brown ones. The rat man recoiled slightly, before nervously bringing out the bowl of blood.
He did as McNair had done last night and Draco drunk until he sent him away, leaving Draco to be alone in a cellar.
Draco slumped against the wall, his eyes drooping but he refused to sleep, he felt full again, but a pain was still throbbing in his head and heart. He had been turned into a monster by the very monster that had destroyed his family. What was he to do? The Dark Lord had taken everything fro, him. His father… hid mother… his life… his humanity… Draco couldn't even call himself human anymore, which was something the Malfoy had always been happy about since the Dark Lord had come into his life, but now, he could not.
The blonde one sighed and felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes. No… He thought. Malfoys don't cry… I won't…. I won't… but a tear fell down his face, staining his cheek with the first tears he had shed in years, cold yet burning on his pale skin. He chocked on a sob, trying to hold it in, but it spilled out of his throat and a few more wracked his body, dry and painful to left out.
He wasn't human anymore… He finally gave in and let the sadness just takeover.
XXXXX
A few hours later found Draco still slumped by the wall, his tears dry and his face. He took a deep breath nut it seemed to have no affect; he didn't seem to need the air. That only made the feeling oh so much worse.
Soon, the sadness diminished and was replaced with boiling anger. Anger about everything. His life had… well, his life had gone to shit. It just was not fair, he did not want this, he did not want to be a Death Eater, but his damn "Lord" just had to come back and demand he join and follow him. Draco's mind drifted away. He knew from Snape's messages that the Order of the Phoenix was very different. They were under that old coot Dumbledore, but all had a say. He listened to everyone's opinions and ideas. All willing to help were welcome. That sounded wonderful… Draco mused, enviously. That sounded great…
He shifted on the cold floor and suddenly, he was struck with a thought. A crazy thought. So stupid and incredibly dim witted that it just might be able to succeed. He couldn't join the order… could he? No. Yes… "Yes." Draco decided after a while of mulling it over. He would give it a try.
Draco leaned back against the cold wall, a plan beginning to from in his cunning head. He waited in the dark. He was getting hungry again.
A few days passed and Draco began to regain his strength. He was feeding three to four times a day – always wondering where they go the blood from and wincing when he thought about the possibilities – and soon he was able to move around with being in agonizing pain. Every couple of hours, Wormtail would descend the stairs to the barred door and bring him more blood to drink, each time more de-humanizing than the one before. Exactly one month after Draco had bee turned his plan was in motion. He pulled himself up from his sitting position on the floor and hid by the side of the door.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Wormtail's squeaky voice called from door, when the young Malfoy was not seen on the floor (he had been pretending to be a lot weaker than he was to keep up appearances). "MR. MALFOY?" Wormtail sounded worried as he hurriedly opened the dungeon door, key jingling in his haste. As the door swung open, Draco quickly sprung from his hiding place, elbowing Wormtail in the face and sinking his claws into the rat-man's neck. When the man finally fell to the ground with a thud, Draco hurriedly ran up the cement stairs and up to the hall that met the stairs. His eyes flickered quickly around the room, a thick layer of dust covered the floor, save from Wormtail's footprints, which seemed to always be in the exact same place. He hated what his house had become, but he fought back the pain and swiftly apparated away.
