Chapter One
A/N: She was kidnapped by vampires as a baby.
Fear. For as long as she could remember, Bonnie's life had been ruled by fear. Fear of the shadows that passed across the window of their safe house in the dusky hours before nightfall. Fear of the quiet nights which she knew, they all knew, were the most dangerous. Fear of the green glow that told her another hiding place had been uncovered. The dull, insistent fear to that told her to go home, go home, go home—that urged her to hide whenever the sun did.
Bonnie's heart stuttered, feeling cold and constricted as that fear lost its dullness and was suddenly too real, too close, too happening. Her lungs felt wet and raw as she ran through the misty wood that would lead her home, had always led her home. A fog had settled over the forest during a frantic and largely fruitless hunt for dittany, obscuring her view of the sun. Dusk had come and gone without her notice; only the distant screams that meant the hunt was on startled her into realization. Now Bonnie blindly, desperately ran in the estimated direction of home. She flitted between the densely-packed pines, passed another copse of trees at top speed, and felt a brief rush of relief as she spotted the distant shape of her family's Fidelius'd hiding place. Her momentary reprieve from fear, however, was quickly replaced by a soul-crushing combination of utter panic and helpless despair. Above the house, distorted by fog, glowed the wispy green spell that marked her as an orphan. Bonnie, immobilized by her shock, started at the realization that she was on the ground, not moving, not running, and she scrambled to her feet once again and made for what was left of her dark little safe house.
Bonnie cautiously crept around the back of the house to find its creaky door blessedly ajar. She crossed the threshold, wincing as her shoulder bumped the door open a bit further, producing a loud squeal. She edged down the eerily silent corridors of what had been her home, only to stumble over what felt horrifically like a leg. Catching herself against the wall, Bonnie sank carefully down and blindly fumbled the object, feeling a coldness wash through her as she realized that, yes, she had tripped on a leg. And that leg belonged to a body, a body that was still and cold and wore a shirt stiffened by drying blood. Her fingers brushed the rough jaw of the dead man who she suddenly knew was her father. She could feel that it was him, could feel the pain tearing through the center of her chest. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone, and Bonnie felt nothing but empty. She knelt next to the victim that wasn't a victim—was her father, was dead—and she could not find the strength to move. And when a rush of cold air told her she was not alone, she could not find the strength to move. And when a deathly white hand seized her about the arm and yanked her to her feet, she could not find the strength to resist.
"We didn't invite you in," she whispered faintly.
"Don't believe everything you hear," replied a smooth voice in Bonnie's ear. The creature behind her tucked its mouth against her neck. And when the flesh of her throat gave way under too-sharp teeth, and when hot blood—her blood—began to gush down her neck, she could not think of anything to do except keep her eyes firmly shut. Her heart beat faster and faster and the blood kept rushing from her body, too fast to be consumed or stopped. Then, suddenly, Bonnie was dropped to the floor as another vampire burst into the darkened corridor and startled the first one into releasing her. She blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake, trying to follow the events unfolding before her drooping eyes. The creature who had just appeared looked significantly filthier than the bloody-mouthed blonde one at her side. They had both stopped moving, staring each other down in fury. Bonnie foggily recognized that by being bitten and not killed she had been turned. This had clearly not been either of the vampires' intention. Practically shaking with rage, the blonde rushed forward, pointing a spindly white finger in the other's face and hissing at him through clenched teeth.
"I've turned her, Way! The Dark Lord will not be pleased. Quickly, then. Surely there is something here thou canst use to…correct our error." She turned away from him and scanned the corridor, presumably expecting to find a stake within reach.
"She's a child, thou prep! Perhaps if she was left living—er, well...as she is...she might draw out more of the resistance. Lot of bleeding hearts, they are."
"Fool! Her parents lie dead in this house! She will be neither missed nor searched for," the blonde one hissed, whipping around to face her dirty-looking companion once more, "Now, find something for her and do it! Thou must!"
"She is barely seventeen, Duff," spat the filthier one, "I won't have her killed. I will take her and...bring her around to our way of thinking."
With that, the creature threw her weak, depleted body over his shoulder and sped away at an inhuman speed. Bonnie's head swam and her mouth felt full of cotton; she vaguely registered that her arms were swinging limply in front of her.