From Ti'ana: I didn't enjoy writing this chapter, so it's not going to be as good as the rest [which weren't that good either] or as long as I can tell. I only wrote this because I had to. I promise, the next chapter is better -.-;
Draco Malfoy
And the Bloodstone
_ _ _ _ _By Ti'ana
Chapter Eleven
To Ride a Silver Broomstick
The afternoon of Christmas day was spent up in Draco's room. His father had guests coming over, and didn't want Draco to be a nuisance. He waited a while before opening so he'd have something to look forward to. Just as he started to open what appeared to be another dress robe, a sharp knock echoed through his room.
"DRACO!" Uh-oh.
"Come in, Father."
Before Draco could ask what Lucius wanted, he had broken the lock on the door with a not-well-planned-out charm, which caused the door to fall to the floor. "What is this notice of detention about?"
It's Christmas! What are they trying to do to me?! "Oh, I got into some trouble at school, it's not big deal. Everyone gets detention every now and then. Even-"
"No excuses!" Narcissa Malfoy was close behind Lucius. "You punched a girl? And she has detention as well? What were you thinking?"
"I don't know," he answered softly. "I just don't know. It's not like she didn't hit me, I was only acting in defense." The glare in his parents' eyes showed them they didn't trust him. "I didn't... Father, I li-"
"No excuses!" Lucius's pale face reddened more than Draco thought possible. His sallow complexion never flushed more than a pink rosebud. At complete loss for words, he stormed out, leaving Narcissa to speak to Draco.
"Mother," he whispered, as if searching for some sense of comfort. She was always the more rational one, but her eyes showed the same displeased look Lucius was so famous for.
"Of all the shameful acts, you've sunken lower than I have ever seen you, Draco Malfoy." She shook her head, a tiny smile forming on her lips. "You are just like Lucius. I had hoped you'd have turned out a bit more like me."
"Why are you comparing me to father? He never hit a woman, did he?"
"Once," she thought back. "In school. A girl named Lily I believe. Yes, that's who it was. In their sixth year, Lucius asked her to the Yule Ball, and she agreed to go with him. A Slytherin/Gryffindor couple was an odd sight. Well, Lucius lost his temper with James, another Gryffindor resident, who asked to dance with her. When she came back after the dance, Lucius told her he was right in never trusting Gryffindors, that the rivalry between houses should remain as such. James defended Lily, and the two engaged in one of the worst wizarding duels I had ever seen. Thankfully, Albus Dumbledore stepped in before they killed each other." Narcissa paused, and closed her eyes. "He turned to Lily to say something awful, I suppose, and she... she-" His mother laughed a bit. "Spit in his eye. Lucius is a proud man, and he slapped her with such force, dear Lily fell right back into James. It was an awful sight. He served three months' detention, and even after that, most of his friends, even Slytherins, strayed away from him. I suppose that isolation made him more vulnerable to Tom Riddle's influence."
"Tom Riddle? I've never heard that name before." Draco's eyes widened. "Lord Voldemort?"
Narcissa hardened her gaze. "You will never let it out that your father willingly went along with You-Know-Who and his band of Death Eaters. He made a mistake, and as we speak, is probably still making it. I don't know what he and his former Death Eater friends do, I'm not allowed to attend dinner with them. I'm not pointing fingers, but You-Know-Who's return back in your first year probably had to do with some of them, your father excluded.
"Oh," she added, before leaving Draco's bedchamber, "I still have to give you your present. Just a moment."
It was several minutes before Narcissa returned to Draco. In that time, Draco had many mixed feelings, mostly towards his father. Lily and James. James and Lily. James... James Potter! So that's why Father told me to avoid Harry Potter! He was jealous, jealous that James got the girl and he lost her. Harry'll probably beat me for telling him my father hit his mother. He stifled a laugh.
"I bought these while your father was occupied," Narcissa explained. "So he doesn't know yet." She handed Draco two wrapped packages. "I used my old family account, so he won't notice I've taken any money out. You know how meticulous he is about those sorts of things. Well, enjoy, darling."
Greedily, but carefully, Draco pulled the paper off the smaller box. He squealed like a child when he removed the contents.
A broom kit and a copy of Quidditch Throughout the Ages! Draco had one of those when he first started playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, but his father had accidentally blown it up in a fit of rage when he found out about Draco's hurt arm last year. At least the anger wasn't directed at Draco, because if that had happened, it would be he that was swept up by a house elf into a dustpan and thrown out with nary a second thought.
Draco's first instinct was to grab his Nimbus, sand and polish the handle, clip the excess tail and test it out in their giant yard, then he remembered he had one present left to open. Even though this new kit would inspire him to win the next Quidditch match, it would be nice to see what else he received. Who knows, perhaps it was better than the kit?
He picked the long, thin package and ripped the paper slowly. His jaw dropped to the floor. There, in his very bedroom, was the newest model of specially-made Quidditch brooms. The Firebolt Two Thousand. It was the single most beautiful piece of wood ever hand-crafted by man. Sleek, smooth and lightweight, it would be the topic of conversation amongst Hogwarts students for many weeks before and after the next match. The silver-tinted wood added to its already majestic appearance.
The Firebolt 2000 hovered in the air, supported only by Draco's intense gaze on his own delicately carved name. "Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Seeker." On either side, a snake, the Slytherin animal, was carved with extreme care. It couldn't have been more than an inch long, and wrapped halfway around the handle. Remembering the Firebolt series was hand-numbered, Draco looked at the end nearest the tail end. He was surprised to see the number was below fifty, meaning it was one of the first in the series! Loads of money can get you almost anything, but luck gave you the finer things, in this case, one of the first Firebolt 2000 specialty Quidditch brooms.
No doubt, he would have to brag to Potter about this. Carefully, though. Before last week, Draco could easily put Harry down in one hundred ways and not feel a tinge of remorse. After their talk about Invisibility Cloaks and Lisha, then hearing about what Lucius did to Lily, it would be near impossible to insult him without regretting it. Draco remembered Lucius had once been involved with the group who had aided in the death of Harry's parents, which made him feel awful at this moment for taunting him about not going home over the holidays, about not being loved by the family he had about having to live with a Muggle family, about not having parents.
Never mind Harry for now. The Firebolt Two Thousand was rested on Draco's bed now. His mind averted to something else: Lisha. But not only Lisha, Lisha and Professor Snape. Twice he had heard Snape tell Lisha to meet him after class the last week before vacation. Both times Draco had to cover his head with his pillow at night so he wouldn't be tempted to go after Lisha. What were they doing? The thought made him sick, as it had many times before. According to Goyle, Lisha was remaining at the school for the week. Professor Snape was staying there as well...
"Ah, stop this!" Draco hit his head with his palm. For a brief moment, he was reminded of Dobby, his old house elf. Dobby would hit himself whenever he had done something wrong. "Only a few more days, just a few more days..."
***
"Contrary to popular belief, the age-old practice of driving a stake into the heart of a vampire worked only because vampires could die in many of the ways a Muggle or wizard could. They were immortal, but not invincible. Also, a vampire turning to stone, melting or disintegrating in the sun was simply an act to dissuade Muggles from coming around their lairs any longer. Garlic as well does not ward off vampires, although if they are anything like a normal person, they'd avoid it nevertheless."
Draco erased the last bit of the final sentence. Only one more day until he had to return to school, and he had been so busy with his new Firebolt he had completely forgotten about the report. He had about half a foot to write before he was finished, and if he wrote big, he'd be finished by nightfall.
Draco thought of his father again. What if he was the vampire leader? The idea was possible. If his father was dumb enough to join Lord Voldemort willingly, most likely there was something wrong with his moralities, and it may be because he had lead thousands of vampires worldwide, many of which weren't registered, as they were supposed to be. It would make Draco almost as famous as Harry Potter if it was found out he, Draco, had been born to the most notorious vampire in the magical world and had never been bitten, much less born a vampire. The only difference between the most common species of vampire and a magical person or Muggle was that they craved blood to survive. Oh, sure, they ate the normal foods in public, but at night they would hunt for victims, killing them or leaving the helpless men and women ill with anemia.
But how does one kill a vampire? That was one of the questions in the assignment. Professor Blodsucan had mentioned that if you find a vampire, kill it on the spot. Draco hadn't found why someone should do this, or more importantly, how. Innately evil as he was, he had never dreamed of killing someone, even though he preached death to Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers publicly in his second year at Hogwarts. He hadn't run across a vampire yet and, hopefully, would never have to worry about killing one!
