And while thy willing soul transpires

At every pore with instant fires,

---

Draco gathered his newly transfigured cloak around him as he walked up the drive. It was thick and warm - wonderful for these winter months. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Harry and he had been flung back in time. For years he had called the moment when they had been sucked into that painting the 'Incident'. Yet he had forgotten everything about that day. It could have been midsummer. He was returning to his family in midwinter.

Ah well, one couldn't control everything.

But no, that wasn't right. They had been together, and that only happened in school, and school was certainly not during midsummer.

Ah, well. He figured that picking up a paper once he was at home would suit. The disappearance must have been noted. A fierce excitement bubbled up within Draco. He took a deep breath of the icy air and grinned. He walked faster. It was time. Everything was going to happen now. He would get his family back.

Draco felt a momentary guilt about leaving Harry - after all, he had no one else. But Harry had functioned on his own for a very long time. If he was determined to pass his own life by, then he could do that. Draco would do just fine on his own.

Draco stopped at the massive front gates and simply looked. The Manor was pale as it loomed above Draco. White peacocks swanned over the lawn, crowing softly to each other and casting Draco only one considering glance before they recognized him. Being home made him so happy.

Then, as he walked up the glimmering path to the front entrance, the door opened. And he could see his mother, hair shining, standing in the doorway.

His mother flew down the steps as she saw him approach. Draco had hoped that she would welcome him immediately, but wasn't a fool. As she flew down the steps, and he grew loser, her wand swept to the side, and Draco felt a spell flash over him.

As the spell passed over me, he felt his glamour crumble. But he continued walking. Draco cursed in his head and quickly reassembled the illusion, shoring it up to be unbreakable. He had forgotten the strength that spells could hold, especially when powered by strong emotion.

As he continued forward without pause, she froze, and then fell to her knees. Draco rushed forward and enveloped her in his arms as she began to cry against him.

"Oh, Draco, Draco", she moaned as she cried. She felt so frail against him. With every breath she took he could feel the brittleness of her bones. He could crush her so easily. He merely clutched her closer.

They sat there for a time, and then Draco felt another presence. He looked and saw that his father had walked out of the grand house above them. He stared down at Draco for a moment, and then moved slightly aside, eyes never leaving Draco's face. Past him, from the utter darkness of the doorway came the Dark Lord - materializing as if by magic.

Draco simply looked at the man - or monster - for less than a moment. He detached himself from his mother, who turned after him, smothering a gasp when she saw Voldemort. But Draco stayed calm. He walked forward, and hating himself every moment, bowed to the Dark Lord. He hate having to bow to this creature - this being who hoped to live as long as Draco had, but had no conception of what that meant.

To Draco, Voldemort was worth nothing but contempt. He planed to use the Dark Lord in any way possible to achieve a seamless return to his family and acceptance into society. This was the only way.

So he simply looked up and gave the Dark Lord a small smile.

Inside they walked. The Dark Lord led the way, with Draco following and his parents coming last. Draco was disturbed by the changes in his parents.

Back in his memories, Draco's parents had been strong. They loved him greatly, and always did their best for him. But now they seemed small. They followed the Dark Lord without seeming to think about it. Their eyes were dull, and though they were as beautiful as ever, there was something missing. Something essential.

Their spirits had nearly been broken, Draco mused. Both by his 'death' and the obvious escalation of the war. They had taken a terrible toll on the family that Draco loved. He felt a slow rage growing within him, building upon his contempt. This thing that considered itself all-powerful, this pitiful Dark Lord, would not survive.

Draco would use him - use Voldemort - to achieve his goals. And he would have to, wouldn't he? His parents had assured his connection to the Dark Lord with their past choices. But Draco would destroy him in the end. After all, if it had not been for Voldemort, he would not have been fretting, wandering the hallways. He would not have been thrown into the past. His parents would be strong - his family whole.

It was all the Dark Lord's fault, really, and he would suffer for it.

Once he reached the main hall he paused. There were others in the house besides them - he could feel them moving around. Voldemort stopped only a few feet beyond him. His parents approached, glancing nervously at the Dark Lord a few feet away from them.

"Draco, what happened?" his mother whispered, seizing the moment. The Dark Lord stood there, watching him with uncanny eyes. They were all waiting for his answer. Draco turned away from all their eyes. He could see no way of getting around it – and he could the information to his advantage.

"I am, now, a vampire." The room behind him froze - as he did inside. He had not spoken the fact aloud to anyone. Harry had simply…known. There was no one else. "I could not return for a time because I could not control myself. But now I can serve you, my Lord." He nodded in Voldermort's direction, clinging to the hastily fashioned story. He really should have thought more about this. But e had been so excited.

Harry had been right. He couldn't hide it. He turned to look at his parents. They were staring at him in frozen horror. The Dark Lord's face was mildly interested. Draco bowed his head. He had brought this on himself.

So he dropped his glamour.