Who would have thought? My very first Vampire!AU :D Enjoy reading!

THC Round 6: Spring Awakens

House: Slytherin

Class: DADA

Entry: Standard

Prompt: [First Line] It all started on a Friday in March.

Word count: 2991

Betas: VanillaAshes, Aya Diefair

Vampire!AU, Blaise's father is alive

That Night In March

It all started on a Friday in March. It was a day he would forever remember as the start of the end; the end of his life, the start of his death, put it as you like. Either way, he changed for good.

*~*HP*~*

"Don't be such a toad, Zabini!"

Blaise rolled his eyes. He felt what would be the first of many waves of annoyance that would wash over him. "Not wanting to wander around a forest in the middle of the night doesn't mean I'm a coward, Nott. It means I have a will to live."

"Sure, it does. Just keep telling yourself that, you might end up believing it, eventually."

Although it was dark out, Blaise knew his housemate was smirking widely. He'd known him for years now, their friendship being as old as they were, and he didn't need sight to be able to tell the other's mood.

"Oh, come now, don't be such a bore!"

Blaise groaned loudly before he shook his head. He knew his friend didn't see the gesture, but it felt needed at that moment. Honestly, he couldn't believe that he'd actually go along with this.

"Fine," he said, trying his best to put as much displeasure into his voice as humanly possible. He wanted to make sure Nott knew very well what Blaise thought of their activities that night. "But only because I don't want to listen to you whine about it for the next week. So really, I'm doing myself a favour here."

"Yeah, yeah, who cares, let's go!"

*~*HP*~*

Blaise groaned softly as his alarm went off. It was the summer holiday, therefore, he had all the reasons to sleep in or never leave the bed ever again. His head was throbbing painfully, his stomach was growling, and his eyes were burning even though his curtains were drawn tightly shut.

Shortly after that Friday in March, he'd never even touched a curtain again. In his brain, curtains equalled pain, so he stayed clear of them. Thankfully, the Slytherin dormitories were located in the dungeons, so there wasn't any need for curtains other than for decoration purposes anyway.

Concerning the daylight charms, however… He'd talked to Professor Snape, who had granted him access to the list of used charms and incantations so he could modify them however he pleased. He'd never felt a gratitude that strong before in his life than in that very moment in his Head of House's office.

Slowly, forcefully slowly, he inhaled. He could feel his rib cage expanding as his lungs took up the fresh air in his room before he pushed it all back out again. Unlike before, he didn't relish the feel of cool air flow through his nose anymore. The oxygen that travelled through his lungs didn't give him the sense of familiar relief. It was as if it had changed, as if someone, or something, had taken an element out of the air, making it less potent, less necessary for living.

However, he knew it wasn't the air that had changed that night.

*~*HP*~*

Grumbling softly under his breath, Blaise set out after Nott, who already had quite a head start on him.

"Hurry up, mate, you're way too slow!"

"You need to calm down, Theo. Honestly." He shook his head as he stepped over a bunch of twigs. His feet were crunching on the slightly wet ground, snapping dead plants and leaves in half. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to get some fresh air, that's all."

Blaise didn't believe his friend one bit. This odd behaviour wasn't anything about wanting to get fresh air. "You're fleeing the Common Room and hiding from Pansy again, aren't you?" Now it was Blaise's time to smirk. "Oh, yes, you are. That explains a lot."

"I'm not hiding from Pansy!" Theodore sounded downright insulted, but he was a pureblood and purebloods learnt how to sound insulted whenever they wanted to. They were good actors, they had to be. Most of them ended up in politics or some other high-ranking position. Knowing how to manipulate the people around you was a skill that was acquired early on.

Blaise scoffed, causing Nott to groan. His friend knew he was right, yet he refused to acknowledge that.

Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott had been the dream couple of Slytherin for over a year now. They spent nearly every waking moment with each other, getting on everyone's nerves. But no matter how strong the… infatuation might have been, it started to wane eventually. For some, that 'eventually' just happened to be sooner than for others. Although, managing to live through a year of snogging Pansy, of all people, was quite a feat. Not that Blaise would ever say that out loud, of course.

He bit down a snigger at the incomprehensible muttering coming from Theo some metres in front of him when he felt a sharp pain on his neck. A gasp left his lips and his hand shot up to swat away whatever had just hurt him.

"What?" Theo covered the distance between the two and reached Blaise within seconds. The latter was standing beneath one of the many trees surrounding them, hand resting on the side of his neck, face contorted. "What is it?"

"I don't know, man, something bit me."

"What?"

"Something just flew past and bloody bit me!" Blaise hissed as he carefully took his hand off his neck and looked at it. Blood was sparkling on his palm in the light of Theo's wand.

"Dude, you're bleeding!"

"I know I'm bleeding, Theo, I have eyes!"

This had been the very reason why he hadn't wanted to go into the Forbidden Forest in the first place. No-one knew what's living in there, and since no-one knew, no-one could say for sure whether it's dangerous or whether you could do something about it.

What in the name of Morgana was flying around the woods, randomly taking bites out of people doing nothing aggressive at all? Their stance or behaviour hadn't been predatory, they hadn't caused anything in there to think that they meant harm.

The sting on his neck got worse with each second that passed and he couldn't stop himself from panicking. He had no idea what had just bit him, but the fact that the pain was worsening, the fact that it seemed to be spreading was reason enough for him to worry.

"What's it look like?" Blaise heard himself ask as he slowly turned away from Theo to show him his neck. The latter raised his hand that was still holding his wand and pointed it at Blaise, directly towards the spot that burned.

"Merlin!"

The mumbled word sounded like a prayer and that did nothing to calm Blaise down.

*~*HP*~*

Groggily, the seventeen-year-old turned onto his side. Painstakingly slow, he wrenched open his eyes and tried to force them to adjust to the light in the room. It was too early to be up. It was too bright.

The first summer after that Friday in March had been hell on Earth. Sure, he could walk around in the sunlight, that was all myths, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. The sun was too bright, it was too warm, and it attracted too many people out in the open.

Ever since that night in the forest, he hadn't felt comfortable in big masses of people anymore. In the beginning, the mere thought of having to sit in a closed-off room with twenty or so students and listen to a professor drone on and on about something or another had sent him straight into a panic attack, one that usually ended with him losing control.

And he could never lose control. Ever again.

That one time in Potions, it had nearly been too late if it hadn't been for Professor Snape to react as fast as he had, casting him across the dungeon, out of sight, out of range. All of that had happened within just a few seconds; too fast for anyone to really register. The Potions Master had saved a life that day, a life that he, Blaise Zabini, had nearly taken.

He blinked into the sunlight that had managed to stream past the drawn curtains and prepared to steel himself for yet another day of pretending to be something he wasn't anymore.

*~*HP*~*

"What? What do you see?" Blaise's heart was pounding so fast that it hurt. The pain radiated from the wound on his neck, pulsing, spreading, and he had to take deep breaths to keep himself from gasping from the pain.

"It's been ripped open."

"It's been what?!"

Nott put his weight on his other foot and gulped. "It looks like a bite mark of some sort, like something tried to take a chunk out of you or something."

All the blood drained from Blaise's face and he felt himself start to sway.

"We should get you to Madam Pomfrey, Blaise. Like, now."

*~*HP*~*

He yawned widely and stretched. His blanket reached up to his belly, having ridden down during the night, which left his upper body exposed to the air around him. It was still nice and cool, yet he knew it would get stuffy as soon as the sun full-on hit the windows. His room was one of the few that got extremely hot during the summer months, and he honestly hated it. He'd hated it back before the Forest Ordeal and he was hating it now. Why his parents had put him in a room on this side of the mansion, he had no idea.

Lazily, he blinked up at his alarm clock, the only Muggle item that he owned. He'd kind of grown used to it during his first year as one of his roommates had had one, so he'd asked for one for Christmas that year. It might not be as precise as alarm charms, but you had to admit that it looked kind of cool.

It was 8.30 am on a Wednesday morning. His mother would be busy setting the table for breakfast at 9 am, which he would be expected to join. Yes, he still ate food, yes, he still needed food, but eating before drinking always made him nauseous. He didn't know why. He figured that once he'd had enough energy from his liquid diet, his stomach could handle solid food, but there wasn't exactly a book or two that he could look it up in.

As if in slow motion, he pushed himself into a sitting position and threw the blanket off his body. Every nerve tingled with the sudden coolness to his skin and sent a shudder down his spine. He'd need to get into the shower quickly. Maybe that way he'd have time to sneak into the cellar to find some rats before having to face his parents for breakfast.

*~*HP*~*

Chill after chill ran through his body. He'd started shivering some time ago, but it wasn't from the cold. It was getting worse; his muscles started cramping up every now and then, waves of pain shot through his veins as he tried to force his legs to keep moving, just moving forward, out of this forest, away from whatever was lurking inside.

"I can see the castle, mate. Hang on, okay?"

Blaise really had to give it to Nott; although he himself was close to panicking, Theo was surprisingly calm as if he knew what he was doing. Despite it all, that thought alone helped him not completely lose his mind.

"It hurts," Blaise gasped and stumbled. His feet had stopped listening to him, moving as if on autopilot. He couldn't lift them anymore, they were so heavy and he was tired. The twigs and vines they had walked over on their way in now did their best to trip him.

"I know, man, I know, but you need to hold on, okay? We're nearly out of the forest."

He knew it hurt? How did Theo know how Blaise felt at that moment? A sudden wave of what he could only describe as pure, burning agony shot through his body. His knees buckled and, with a muffled cry, Blaise fell. His body started twitching violently, limbs shooting out to the sides before cramping back up, spine bent in ways he hadn't thought possible.

He didn't hear Theo's panicked screams as he slowly lost consciousness.

*~*HP*~*

The towel was soft against his skin as he rubbed himself dry. With a quick wave of his wand, he did his hair like usual and summoned his clothes. Ten minutes to nine. Breakfast would start in ten minutes. That wasn't enough time to get the thirst under control, but it would be better than eating right away.

On his way out of the bathroom, he pointed his wand towards his bed to straighten the duvet and fluff up the pillow. His mother would have a fit if he'd left it in its rumpled state all day and Blaise didn't have any intention to come back into the room before the sun had set. He'd spent his time in the shade somewhere, preferably in the lounge or tea room, but he already knew his mother would force him to go outside.

Although he hadn't been blasted off the family tree, his parents hadn't fully accepted him as what he was, either. When he'd come home last year, barely a few months after the incident, his mother had started crying immediately upon seeing him.

Sure, he was paler than usual, the contrast of his dark hair to his now light skin even starker than it had been before, but other than that he hadn't changed all that much—at least on the outside. And he did his best to behave as normally, as human as possible. It was easier that way, not just for him but for everyone around him.

His parents hadn't told anyone about his change. They'd just… remained silent. He hadn't been sure what to think of it back then. On the one side, he had been thankful for it, for being allowed to pretend everything was normal, that he was normal. On the other hand, though…

He trailed his hand along the bannister as he made his way down three flights of stairs. His room was on the second floor of the east wing. His destination, however, was on the basement floor.

"Aldway, could you please go get Blaise? Breakfast is ready."

His mother's voice caused his stomach to drop. It wasn't even 9 am yet!

But before he could react in any way, his hand resting on the doorknob to the cellar, his father entered the vast entrance hall. "Ah, Blaise, there you are. Your mother has prepared breakfast. Join us."

He wasn't asking for Blaise to join them. It was an order.

"Yes, Father."

The unwelcome feeling of acid-like substance gathering in his mouth told him it was too early for solid food. He needed something liquid before that if he didn't want to end up puking it all out in the kitchen afterwards.

*~*HP*~*

"You need to eat, Blaise." Nott looked at him patiently, still holding onto the plate of sausages. "Ingesting liquids won't keep you healthy."

"How would you know?" There was no wrath behind his words, only exhaustion. He'd never felt so weak before in his entire life.

"My aunt. She got bitten, too."

Blaise's head jerked up and he stared at his friend with wide eyes. "What?"

"Six years ago. Somewhere in Ireland. She can't remember it. She had to figure this out the hard way." He gave the sausage plate a gentle shake. "Now eat."

*~*HP*~*

"Good morning, my love," his mother welcomed him as soon as he turned up in the doorway. His father moved past him, gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, and sat down at the loaded table. "Come, have a seat."

His stomach was churning at the mere sight of bacon, eggs, and toast. The jug of orange juice she had placed on his side of the table looked almost poisonous to his thirsty brain.

"Morning, Mother," he said softly, eyes still focussed on the orange juice.

He couldn't do this. It was one thing that his parents refused to accept what he had become, but it was a different thing altogether that they forced him to act as if nothing had happened.

His stomach cramped up and more poison gathered in his mouth. He felt his cheeks expanding as his canines elongated. He had promised himself that he would never lose control while in front of his parents. It wasn't that he feared he would attack them, no.

He feared what they would think of him.

And the look on his mother's face, really seeing her son for the first time since that one Friday in March, made him hate himself even more.

"I need to go," he mumbled, eyes cast down, before turning and running out of the kitchen, out of the house. The cellar was forgotten, so was the orange juice. He needed something bigger than rats right now, something that calmed him down and grounded him. Game. Some sort of game that would require him to hunt, to exhaust himself, to forget.

He needed to forget the expression of pure fear on his mother's face.

*~*HP*~*

"You're a vampire, Blaise. So what?" Nott said one evening in their dormitory. "You're different from the rest. That's nothing bad."

"I'm a blood-sucking creature, Theo!" Self-loathing was more than obvious in his voice. It had been eating him up from the inside out, the hatred, the pure and strong hatred.

"That doesn't mean you're bad, Blaise Zabini. You are not bad."

That night, Theodore Nott kept repeating those words over and over again, "You are not bad."

*~*HP*~*

Maybe, one day, Blaise would believe him.

This was so much fun to write, honestly!

Does anyone know what inspired this story? :D If you have an idea, let me know!

Until next time - see ya!