CW: Recurrent mention of the word "Blood". Explicit description of several violent scenes.
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"God kills indiscriminately and so do we. For no creature of God is like us. None is so much like Him as we are."
Tom Cruise
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The taste of blood flooded my mouth. Making it become my main addiction. To that vice that reminds me that I am no longer human. A human I stopped being years ago.
It was already the twentieth rat of the night. The animal squealed in my hands and scratched me trying to escape death. I sucked for a couple of seconds, until the rat's gasps became fainter and faded away, leaving me helpless. In those catacombs covered with the essence of death.
By the time I cleaned my mouth with traces of blood, I noticed the scene I was surrounded by, with the corpses of those creatures, which were now skin and bones. I am disgusted, but I can't do anything about it; blood is the water I require.
I am Draco Malfoy, a vampire for as long as I can remember, and at the same time the best wizard of my generation.
The worst part of this tragicomedy is that this little description is only the tip of the iceberg of the misfortunes I have experienced.
Look, I am writing this for him and for the psychologist, who insists that this is the best way to free me from everything that worries me in life.
I reluctantly agreed, because I don't want to be given those pills again that take away my sleep at night (and for MY wand, it's been years since I lost it).
I've never been good at writing, actually, this is the first time I've been faced with writing something on these muggle machines. When you study magic for your whole life, if you want to deepen your learning literature is transcendental.
I don't remember doing a written report, instead the teachers were satisfied that we had decent penmanship, clear pronunciation and could read. Nothing else.
I always liked to read because I was a weirdo. It's something that comes from birth.
Anyway, as my fingers move fast over the keyboard and I type words that make sense right now, I continue to think of several of the torments. Of the moments when I hit rock bottom.
A story has a beginning, a development, and an ending.
So, I'm going to start with that.
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It was a rainy day, one of those days when you can't sleep because you hear the water hitting the roof with worrying force.
Rainy days are my favorite, now that I'm an adult in my 30', but when I was five, it was a complete torture.
I remember that night very well— how could I not? — because my life took a total turn that ended up taking away my innocence.
My parents decided to go out and leave me in charge with a babysitter (who was supposed to be efficient); the girl was young and unexperienced; however, my parents liked her and after a chat, I was with this stranger in my house. Which was the safest place in the world.
Since I was crying so hard, the babysitter had to read me a story so that I could sleep, even though I wasn't doing my part. I ended up getting sleepy after all that crying, so the young lady thought it best to stay with me until I fell asleep.
I must clarify something at this point. If that girl had gone to another room to sleep, most likely only one disgrace would have happened in the night, because the scent of kids is almost imperceptible.
She sat back in the rocking chair, and I was as scared as a calf. I heard a sound downstairs, and shouted, causing the girl to become upset again.
"Draco, it's nothing, just rain! exclaimed the girl, her name was something sweet, like Lily or Flora, I can't remember anymore "do you want me to read you another story?"
She extended me a text while she turned on the general light in my room, I stopped crying, not because the rain had diminished, but because I saw a hand peeking through the open door. I was stunned, and paralyzed with fear, I hid under the covers.
From there, with my head covered, the last thing I heard was a muffled moan, then the torrential rain, I trembled wishing that whatever had attacked my babysitter, it wasn't infatuated with me.
It did.
I had only heard of vampires from stories, which were described as tall, thin, pale, gaunt and, above all, horrifying, but the person I met in front of my eyes didn't quite match the description.
I remember him well, because he was a tanned, toned and very handsome guy, so much so that I thought he was some celebrity. Not just anyone, he was like the actors in movies from decades ago. He pulled the covers off my body, sat down next to me, and started stroking my head.
One thing I remember is that he was too cold, and his mouth was full of blood, I cried silently again with the air escaping from my lungs. The boy smiled at me.
I dared to look at the floor, where the corpse of what had been my babysitter had been left abandoned. She was now as thin as if she hadn't eaten in years, her neck was in a strange posture (as the boy thundered it) and I could notice the deep bite, still bleeding, on her neck.
I looked back at the boy, who was still acting friendly but for the fact that he had just murdered my babysitter, I would have liked him for sure.
"What is your name, little boy?"
His voice was soft and just as beautiful as his face. I responded after several attempts to remember how to speak, but the guy wasn't interested, he just wanted to have fun with his food.
That's why I dared to ask:
"My name is Draco, a-are you s-still h-hungry? I... I assure you I'm not g-gonna sa-sacify you."
The guy made me sit on his lap, but with my eyes locked on his face. His eyes sparkled with fun, I could smell the metallic scent of the babysitter's blood, I distinguished the piercings that decorated his marked features and the sharp fangs, which smiled at me in a mocking gesture.
"Calm down, Draco, I'm not going to eat such a cute little boy."
That was a relief, so I let out a sigh. The boy ran his hand through the strands of my hair and unbuttoned the first few buttons of my sleep shirt, but it was so gentle I almost didn't notice.
My collarbone was exposed and since my clothes were a bit too big, the young man could see down to just below my right armpit. He ran his fingers across my mouth and then very calmly defined the clavicle bone.
"I hear you're afraid of the rain, Draco" he mentioned posing his nose against my skin "What is it about it that scares you so much?"
"The noise."
"I understand... "I still think that by the tone of voice he used I really felt understood "I'm very old, so I'm not afraid of anything anymore. Would you like to know why?"
I nodded, and he broke away, his eyes now red, flaming evil. I tried to get up from his lap, instead, the boy rested his hands on top of my thighs leaving me immobilized, then laid his head on my neck again.
"Because I've lived through everything, Draco, so I can't be afraid of anything anymore."
The world suddenly went dark, and by the time I realized it, the boy's teeth were digging into my skin. It hurt so much that I completely forgot about the rain, I felt weakened to the point that finally, after not being able to sleep; I did, falling flat on my face on my bed.
By the time I woke up a week later, my mother, Narcissa, had swollen eyes from crying, and I was lying in a giant bed that didn't belong to me. When she realized that I had recovered my consciousness, she let out tears of immense happiness and then began to apologize repeatedly.
From that day on, several things changed: I no longer stayed home alone, I was no more afraid of the rain, and I was a vampire, who in a few more years would begin to suffer the first transcendental changes.
Although, there is still a long way to go.
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My grandfather, Abraxas, was the most affected by this vampiric business. When he found out, according to my father's words, he almost went into cardiac arrest, and out of spite he blew up some Muggle's house, passing it off as an accidental fire.
How was it possible that the Malfoy successor had the contaminated blood?
Vampirism itself is not quite an illness, they are what characterizes a ser. I am a being, although before I discovered this and studied them in third grade, I always believed, thanks to my grandfather, that I was sick. I was disgusting, contagious and a stain on the family, he was the biggest supporter of erasing me from the family tree and trying to make my parents have another son, however, he remembered that he was my grandfather, perhaps because we were, excessively, similar, or just out of compassion.
"Don't show me those nasty teeth, and we'll be fine."
Since I was already pale, and my whole family was as white as milk, no one got the idea that I was different, that the reason I was taller and thinner than kids my age was only because of my DNA, along with the pure blood running through my veins.
My parents tried to have another child (a little brother, Draco). Mom and Dad argued daily, because Narcissa would not get pregnant, they tried in every possible way; it was a hard period that I had to live through as a mere spectator. My parents decided to stop trying when the best healer in England came to the house, analyzed the tests, and determined:
"I am surprised that you were able to have a child. Unfortunately, from the studies you are infertile." Said the Doctor "Your period hasn't come since you were sixteen, and you still had Draco. You could try gaining weight, but chances are that won't make a difference. Sorry."
I listened to everything behind the door, recording the words I didn't know and then going to look them up in the dictionary.
I heard my mother cry, and then my father curse loudly. When they left, I stared at the doctor, not understanding why I wasn't enough. What was wrong with me?
It wasn't that I was faulty, I simply wasn't human anymore. That was the problem.
Now that I look back on it, without the jealousy of the time, I would have liked to have a little sister. Woman. Because men, after interacting with them all through my teen years, are a total mess. Girls, on the other hand, Pansy being my best reference, are neat, tidy and smell nice.
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I met Pansy when I was seven. The Parkinson's moved next door, and Pansy was the middle child between two older brothers, and the little girl her parents had by accident, or at least, that's what Pansy told me.
Since the bite, my parents were afraid of me interacting with the rest of the children, because for the rest of them it was dangerous. Leaving alone a couple of magical kids, who have no idea how to control their magic, was a problem; now imagine that one of them is a vampire, who despite not having developed his thirst yet, nothing assured you that he wouldn't have the urge to bite someone.
So, Pansy came to me, dropped out of the sky, literally.
She was a naughty girl, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson never took her into consideration because they were more alert to check if the youngest didn't choke on a toy or the problems of teenagers. Pansy developed the gift of being invisible to her family but shining in front of me.
He liked to climb everywhere, on sunny days, I didn't go out in the yard because the sun burned and on cloudy afternoons, I always liked to stay in the library reading a book. That day I went out alone because Pansy was watching me inside our yard while I was reading in the bowindow, throwing stones the size of peas at me to get my attention.
"What do you want? "I questioned somewhat fearful.
I didn't know this specimen of a human being that appeared in front of my eyes; she was a girl, like my mother or the babysitter, the same age as me, she smelled of dry leaves and fresh shampoo.
"I'm Pansy Parkinson, your neighbor."
"I didn't ask you who you are, I asked you what you want."
Pansy smiled at me and with her black eyes. I almost felt like she could see through my scrawny body. Then she reached out her hands, to grab my arms, forcing me to join her near the shadow.
"What do you want from me" I repeated, she stopped and dropped down sitting on the large roots of the tree "tell me."
"I want to have fun, and for that I need a friend, will you be my friend? "Since then, I thought she had a nice voice, like an anchorwoman, "Let's be friends."
"You don't even know who I am"
"Yes, I know "replied Pansy kneeling down on the mud and holding my hands again for me to sit next to her. " I know you're a weirdo, because you like to read, also that you're a Malfoy and that my brother says you have some kind of problem, because you never leave your house."
"I'm not weird."
"Then you're special, but I like that. Do you want to be my friend?
I examined it and then began to look at the esplanade behind me. Since I never went out, the swing was rusted, as was the toboggan and the tree house. Maybe I could finally use them again.
"Draco Malfoy" I answered, shaking her hand, she squeezed it and laughed at my gesture "Do you like Quidditch?"
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Thanks to Pansy I met Crabbe and Goyle, and Daphne, an irritating girl who kept wanting to touch my hair. The boys were idiots, maybe that's where all their magic lay, in how manipulable they were. I couldn't rescue anything from Daphne, and what she didn't have, Pansy had multiplied.
It was my first time socializing with other children and after the initial shock, my mother was very pleased that I had made friends. So gradually, they began to insert the ideals of blood into me, so that I could filter my friends.
Without a doubt, the one I spent the most time with was Pansy, who would sneak out of her house after breakfast, and stay at my house playing. First, she went outside, and after she convinced me, I let her into the house, on the condition that she take off those dirty shoes before coming in.
My mother said she was a rude girl like a boy, but she was a beautiful girl.
She started talking to me about Hogwarts, while she was messing up my stuff and trying on my shirts trying to pretend to be a kid; I just watched her because it was fun to watch, not understanding too much about the houses, the points, and the school curriculum.
I had a short, stocky, almost bald teacher who smelled of liquorice and strong magic. He was the one who taught me to ride a broomstick, read, write, all the basic subjects and learn to speak French. Almost every pureblood (with money) had a private teacher or attended kindergarten.
But I didn't have a fixed schedule. I was never guided by that. I ate when I was hungry (and it was only a couple of bites), slept when I got sleepy, and studied when I was told to. That wasn't right, however, none of my parents cared too much about that. They just wanted me to live quietly.
"They have a lot of subjects: potions, care of magical creatures, enchantments" Pansy said excitedly "I'm already looking forward to turning eleven and entering the school. Do you think we'll get into the same house?"
"Which one did you tell me was the one with the purebloods?" I asked, taking a bite of a cookie "the one with the snake, isn't it?"
"Slytherin. That's the best!"
"I feel the same way. We should always be the best."
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I watched the familiar owl dive in through the window, with a letter in its beak. The letter landed on top of my plate, at the same time Pansy was knocking like a crazy woman on the kitchen door.
I stood up and stared at her, she was shaking a letter above her head, the house-elf looked at her for a second and mimicked her, something I couldn't help but laugh at.
"You got it too!" she exclaimed, lifting the letter from the table "Open it!"
We read the letters together, and when my father came home from work, I gave it to him. I hadn't seen him smile since Christmas, and that day he messed up my hair so much that I had to go up to my room to comb my hair again.
I didn't understand that gesture until years later. Of course, he was happy, that was the sign that they knew nothing about me being a vampire and that I still had magic.
It was a sign that it was still valid.
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I met the most important boy of my generation (of my life), without knowing I was meeting him. Thanks to Pansy, I copied that chatty attitude and thought I was being nice, at the end of the day, it was just me, how I acted with my friends.
I didn't notice it at the time, as I just thought he was a shy boy. Between the fabrics of our uniforms, I couldn't identify his scar, and through his glasses, he looked like a total nerd.
My mom cried a lot before letting me off to get on the Hogwarts express; Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for me inside an empty cabin, with a couple of other kids I didn't know about. The train started up. I began to grow impatient, as my stomach roared with hunger.
"What about the cart you told me about? "I asked to the air, Pansy shrugged her shoulders and dug inside her handbag, extending a chocolate bar to me "hell, I wanted some acid pills."
I got up from the seat, intending to go get the cart myself, Pansy rolled her eyes, but also got up, at the same time as Crabbe and Goyle.
Being in the first few cabins, we didn't know anything. Unintentionally, my shoulder bumped into a girl with frizzy hair who was searching for a toad.
"Do I look like a pet store owner to you? Go ask someone else, girl."
She didn't answer me and left shaking her hair angrily. The closer we got to the end, I heard the complaints of the rest of the students who were also not getting candy and the whispers that the famous Harry Potter was on the train. That clicked with me, and I decided I had to go meet him.
I grew up with the Harry Potter stories, although it was the somewhat changed version. In that one, the boy who lived had not defeated he-who-must-not-be-named but was part of his master plan. In that story, we were told that Harry was the key piece of something even bigger. That Potter was a pureblood, had a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt and that his favorite color was green.
I was disappointed when I saw Potter, surrounded by empty packages, while chewing a sour pill. He was accompanied by Ron Weasley, who was counting his chocolate frog cards. He was the boy from the robes store, who looked so insignificant, yet he was cool.
"I heard rumors that Harry Potter was on this train. I never expected it to be you" I said, taking in all his attention "this is Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, and I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."
Weasley's laughter brought me out of my act, I shot him a scornful look and then grabbed a every flavor bean, hoping I'd get a good one; it was pineapple.
"What do you think is so funny? Let me guess; that ginger hair, secondhand clothes, and freckles, you must be a Weasley" I continued with a half-smile.
I didn't mention that I smelled like cinnamon, and I didn't mention that Potter smelled like toothpaste. Because my mom told me it was strange smelling people
"Potter, you'll find out soon enough who the right company is. Let me show you."
I stretched out my hand, remembering Pansy (let's be friends?) I looked sideways at her and then back at Potter at his green eyes that caught my attention from the beginning. To his very strange smell.
"I can realize who the right company is without your help."
He rejected me. That friendship I was offering him, and he just stamped it in my face.
It was embarrassing, but at the same time exciting, because it was the first time I was being deprived of something, and I couldn't help but laugh at it. I left the booth, my cheeks red and my heart pounding.
They've always said that when something is taken away from you, you end up wanting it even more.
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Everything went normally, until the vacations before entering fourth grade. After the werewolf teacher drama, Hermione's punch that ended up plating my nose, Hagrid's chicken and the Dementors, I started to feel three things.
First, I was no longer a child. Puberty had hit not only me, but all my friends and acquaintances. I saw Pansy as a lady, no longer climbing trees or getting muddy with dirt. Instead, she would come to my house, smile at me and I couldn't take my eyes off her, because I thought she was beautiful. I was finally noticing. What my mother repeated to me as a child, that she was a pretty girl.
She confessed to me that she liked me in the summer, and I accepted her feelings; I liked her too, she was nice, cute, and funny.
Our definitions of liking were different. I must have foreseen it when she kissed me, and I just touched my lips, not understanding.
Secondly, that I liked the boys. Because no matter how pretty Pansy is, and she certainly is, to this day, I couldn't stop thinking about Nott's new tan or Zabini's new haircut. They were thoughts I didn't have before, that I didn't have with Pansy.
I hope Potter never reads the next thing. So, I'm going to lock the door of the study.
I never wanted to see Pansy in just a bra, like Nott told me he wanted to do with his girlfriend, Daphne, and I couldn't answer him that what I wanted was to see them in boxers. It was a strange feeling that I decided to keep only for myself, locked inside me, in a little box that I was never going to open to anyone (or so I thought) (I'm very bad at keeping things to myself).
So, I continued with Pansy, fulfilling their fantasies. Their desires to be a prince charming. That summer I read a lot of romance novels, to collect information and apply the quotes that they said.
The third and final thing I found out was that being a vampire, in the middle of puberty, was a problem.
It was overnight, as if my nightmares had come true; where my mouth felt dry, I was too cold and no matter how much I drank water and turned the heat up to full blast, I couldn't cure those feelings. My mom came into my room, in her light summer dress, and pulled me away from the fireplace as she was about to put more wood in it. I looked at her in confusion and she put out the burning fire.
"You're crazy! It's like forty degrees!" a small brace jumped out of the fire, I pulled away and went running to put on the warmest sweater I had "Are you all right, dear?"
"I'm cold and thirsty, Mom" I replied overwhelmed "I don't know what's happening to me."
She grabbed my arm and without saying anything, forced me down the stairs to the basement, where it was too cold. My mother grabbed a rat and slit its throat with a knife. As soon as the first drop of blood fell, I went crazy.
I took the rat, and I anchored my teeth in it, sucking all its blood, my mother began to cry and decided to leave me alone in the basement, with the knife. Where I hunted more than a dozen rodents before I felt satiated and felt the warmth of the environment again. I climbed the stairs back to my house stunned. I already knew I was a vampire, but that day I took the real weight of the whole thing.
"Draco, at least clean your mouth when you're done eating" my mother mentioned, handing me a tissue. I obeyed her and sat down on the couch.
"I'm disgusting, mom."
"Don't ever say that!" she shouted hugging me, I pushed her away, though she held my face with her hands "You're beautiful, Draco! You're not disgusting!"
They say a mother's greatest fear is to see her son hate himself. I think they're right.
We were silent for a while, and when I spoke again, I realized that I was crying too.
"Mom, I need to go get more rats, because I can't stop thinking that I want to drink your blood."
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The World Cup was one of the most anticipated events for the magical community, me included.
Quidditch has that I don't know what, that the rest of the magical sports don't have and, believe me there are more of them than you think. The difference comes when you realize that Quidditch means everything. There are only two types of people who hate the sport: the bitter and the dizzy. Loving quidditch is the right choice every time.
My dad got the best seats to watch the final and that would have been one of my favorite nights had it not been for everything that happened afterwards. After the celebration of Ireland's thrilling victory, my father was clear, I had to leave right then and there.
I didn't understand anything, neither his insistence that I take the translator, nor why he would stay, but I listened to him. I arrived home, where Mom hugged me. Hours later Dad returned, exhausted and smelling of smoke.
I didn't need to ask him anything, because the next morning an exclusive came out that would cause quite a stir in the magical community; the Dark Mark, the symbol of he-who-must-not-be-named, had been made that night.
Anyway, I didn't ask Dad anything, or why he made me leave. It didn't matter, I had had a good time, that was the important thing, wasn't it?
"No questions, Draco" said dad "beauty: beauty is what ends when the attempts to demonstrate intelligence begin."
"What do you mean, father?"
"That you look prettier when you're quiet."
Anyway, I'm not beautiful enough to be stupid, or ugly enough to be intelligent. That's the problem. So, I gave myself the luxury of doubt.
Going back to school was among the worst experiences of my life. Now that I was more vampire than human, all the scents of people were identified without even meaning to.
For the first time I realized the real reason I was never hungry, my body didn't need the empty calories of any living creature, after all, I wasn't. I needed to drink blood and that would keep me going.
Of course, I could eat, only if I didn't drink blood, I would literally fizzle out.
No, if you were wondering, I'm not alive; the bite works in a strange way, because it kills you and at the same time makes you immortal, well... almost immortal, but I'll talk about that.
The worst was when I met Him again. Harry Potter. At that point I should have predicted it, I didn't because despite already being aware that my path was not going to the straightest side of the world, I flatly refused to accept that I liked Harry.
Added to this was the school's hate after being chosen the fourth champion. Without question, fourth year was one of the best years to make fun of Potter, because if I spent my time teasing him, I would forget that I was a vampire and all I wanted to do was suck his blood. Certainly, his scent was the most attractive of all.
The castle was joined by several new students, who were only going to be there for that year and then they would leave. I was an asshole, because while I was making out with Pansy, I was conscious that hours later, I would go with that Bulgarian guy whose name he never told me because it wasn't necessary, to have a... good.
Boys are more intense, okay?
After the Yule Ball, I think even Pansy realized that I wasn't for her, and she wasn't for me. Every student who didn't have alcohol in their veins noticed, like me, two Dumstrang boys, Pansy, and Nott. The rest, at the Slytherin after-party, where the Dumstrang kids were invited, were lost in drugs, alcohol and out of control.
I wasn't drunk because alcohol, being a non-living, makes me nauseous; that was the worst part, that being very aware of my actions I kissed that boy in front of the rest, who didn't even notice, except the ones I already mentioned.
Pansy just laughed, she never told me, maybe I should ask, but I think she already knew.
Anyway, everything ended terribly; because Cedric— the only Hufflepuff boy who was worth it— died. And so did the hopes that things were going to get better.
Sixth year was my last great year, because all the kids who wanted to live without worries, like me, believed in the ministry's version.
And if you were wondering, no, I never saw my Bulgarian boy again.
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Umbridge, whether you were Slytherin or not, might have been one of the worst things to happen to Hogwarts in centuries.
By that time, I was used to the same routine; when everyone went to bed, I would have my rat feast for the week, sometimes the month. At a certain point I had to force myself to kill other types of animals in the forbidden forest, because of the clear decrease of rodents in the castle. I managed to discover that, with a whole deer, I had enough blood for the whole month: the only bad thing is that they are very complicated to hunt.
Yeah, the vampire stuff works like that; a few sips will get you through the day, but leaving a rat dry for two and so on will add up. It's not like food, and that makes you hungry every day. When you're a vampire, you drink once and that's enough.
I messed up a lot of uniforms with blood, and more than once I came to class with dried blood on my sleeves. My best excuse was to say I had hypertension, and whenever I ate too much salt, my nose would bleed.
Umbridge, during this year was insufferable, being a member of her squad (and later the head), was not as amazing as many believed. I needed to keep an eye on everyone, even though in DADA, I didn't have homework.
I was also a prefect, which was almost the same as being in the brigade, without the pin or Umbridge's preferences. Doing the night rounds gave me a better back up to get to late hours, without being questioned, although I spent more time with Pansy.
She was the first one to realize it, without the need to tell her.
Just to test her theory she literally spent a month with crosses around my neck, serving me garlic bread and trying to expose me to the sun. I don't know if she wanted to kill me or something, but at a certain point, her lazy attempts to find out if I was a vampire concluded into something more definitive.
We were alone, and she pulled a bag full of blood she had stolen from the kitchens out of her backpack, opened it, and I couldn't contain myself. As if I were an addict, I drank it all, and after the initial shock, she smiled with satisfaction.
"I knew it!" he sentenced "garlic and crosses didn't work... Does the sun hurt?"
Those clichés are real. Garlic, after the transformations, I couldn't stand it at meals, the crosses, they hurt a bit and the sun, it burns. It really burns bad. I can't reflect myself in the mirrors either, for reality I was an illusion. Almost a ghost. A memory of what it was like to be alive, even if your heart no longer beats.
"I'm almost albino, Pansy."
"Yeah, but you're a vampire, it must be more painful, right?" she asked sitting on my bed.
The boys' dorms are the only ones that don't have the other gender's repelling spell.
"Well, whatever do you think you'd die if you got a stake through your heart?"
"Pansy, anyone would die if they got a stake through the heart."
With that, Pansy was nicer. From time to time, she would bring me bags of blood from the kitchens, and I would gratefully take them. Then she started dating Zabini, and I supported her with all the advice she could get to be able to put up with that prat.
It was fun. It was until Potter infiltrated the ministry, the return of... he confirmed it and my father was imprisoned into Azkaban.
I came home grieving, hoping to sink into my mother's arms, but instead, just by the smell I identified it; it was disgusting, frivolous, evil. My whole home smelled like it.
I opened the door, my aunt Bellatrix who I had never seen, though I had heard of her, hugged me and then, I saw him standing next to my mother kneeling, there were several people I didn't know, but by their look of madness, I knew instantly that they were Dead eaters.
"We've been waiting for you Draco" He said "I've heard rumors that you are, special. Come, come closer and let me check you out."
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I knew true pain that summer, for two months I became friends with Him, because it was easier to think I liked Him than not.
My aunt got into my head so many times, that I became an expert in Occlumency. I had nightmares every night, to the point where I started sleeping for blocks of a few hours. The Dead eaters had our manor as their main center of operations and whatever pride was left in being a Malfoy, went with my father. I was harassed daily.
Especially by one person.
I met Greyback, realizing that the classic rumor that werewolves got on badly with vampires was true. He knew it instantly, our scents clashed, I was repulsed by his presence and that made him laugh, something I never comprehended.
Him. He was also amused, but he continued to protect me because I was still a minor. That was my lifeline. Still, he did terrible things to me, psychological things, I was trying to defend myself, but... whatever. I don't want to remember it.
He. Harry tells me to call him by his name, but Potter doesn't understand what it meant to me to live with him, with the monster, I know I can never call him by his name, because he reminds me of all the bad experiences of the past and I don't want to do that. I want to be happy, even if that sounds childish. If being happy means never saying his name instead of wanting to sound brave, let me live in my fantasy.
As I was relating, He gave me the mission three weeks before I returned to school; Kill Dumbledore. It was a punishment for my father's actions. Of course, I knew, everyone knew. Sleeplessness began to gain the upper hand and, thanks to being a vampire, I could go full days without sleep. I would try to hunt, but wolves prowled the woods behind the manor, so I stuck to the cats I saw from time to time.
I lost a lot of weight, even though I was already thin to begin with. My clothes hung off me, pale as paper and anxious about a problem that was getting bigger.
In the words of my psychologist, I had severe depression and anxiety, which would leave me with post-traumatic stress. ("Draco, but what made the idea of suicide so far away was the pressure from your family.") Exactly, He promised me, when I accomplished the task, Mother would stop being his slave, I made the promise for her. Because she was the only person who was worth it.
I grabbed my courage, stuffed it into my suitcase, and with my mother's unbreakable vow behind me, I returned to Hogwarts, meeting Potter again, who by the way he looked at me, we both realized that we were no longer kids playing at teasing each other.
The necklace, the bottle, the imperius curse. All without any solution, I knew Harry was following my footsteps, I could smell him all over the corridors of the school, leaving his arrogant fragrance. The closet was my only option, and I still couldn't fix it. Progress was in snail's pace, only finding comfort in Myrtle and Pansy, who would bring me bags of blood or hunt rats for me.
Potter found out that year, by an absurd mistake.
Vampires don't reflect in mirrors, that's true. And as I cried, in the reflection I saw him, and he stared at my non-reflection. He knew it then and there, but being a vampire was the least of my problems.
With the cuts on my body and the skin regenerating instantly. The pain was real, I saw Potter's afflicted face before I collapsed. I woke up in the nurse's office, not understanding anything.
I awoke to the smell of Potter. Who slipped inside that invisibility cloak. I stood looking at him as he took it off, and for the first time I was able to notice his features without becoming uneasy.
"You're a vampire," he said, sitting down in the chair next to me, "I thought you only looked this bad because of your father."
"Potter, don't remind me if you don't want me to kill you."
"Can you die?"
I was silent, then I touched the skin on my chest again. No bandage, no scar.
"I think so, but not from natural causes."
I don't know why we were talking so well about nothing; it just happened. I guess Harry was sorry or something. Either way, we knew that the next morning we had to continue hating each other, so I didn't pay too much attention to what his lips were saying.
"Can you hypnotize?" he asked curiously, approaching me.
"I've never tried."
The thought instantly crossed my mind. Hypnosis, if it was like in the movies and books, I had to concentrate. I looked at Harry intently, and seconds later I felt him, as if he was under to an imperius he had his green eyes dilated, and a serene expression on his face.
I know very well that the real Potter does not remember any of this, for this is my secret that I will take to my grave. I forced him to forget.
My first kiss with Harry was that night, it felt empty and stupid. Like I was looking for happiness in something that wasn't for me. By the time I broke away I gave the order:
"Go to your common room, stop bothering me for the rest of the year" I pronounced. Harry nodded "forget everything I told you tonight, everything I did tonight."
I watched as Harry put his cloak back on, but I stopped him, with a smile.
"When you defeat you-know-who I want you to run to me and hug me. That's it."
It was a childish order. Harry left the nurse's office, and I knew the next day that the effect of the hypnosis had worn off, but I never smelled his scent around the castle again, I managed to repair the closet and the night came.
It was the first and last time Dumbledore spoke to me as I always wished he would. As he used to do to Harry. I couldn't kill him, Snape did. I ran hand in hand with Bellatrix ignoring that I knew Harry was under the tower.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was enchanted, he didn't care if I did it or not, if I was still underage, or if I was a Malfoy. At least he kept his promise. My mother was no longer his slave.
Because now I was.
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At this point I must give myself a break. For mental health, or just because my legs are already numb from so much writing. I've been at it for hours.
I just heard Potter come home, so I guess I won't be touching this again for a long while, at least until I get the courage to relate what's coming.
My psychologist told me to write everything down. I don't remember many details, but I guess that's normal. I still have centuries (maybe millennia) to live, it's normal that I don't remember many fragments.
I guess I'm just going to get up from this Muggle thing, and go ask Potter how his work went, like I do every day. Maybe he got mad at Hermione again or managed to save the world, again.
I already told him he should stop having this hero complex, because if he keeps saving the world, what are we mundane people left with?
I feel pathetic writing this, did I say that already, I think I'm the only person in the world who doesn't deserve a biography, so since no one is going to write it for me, I'll have to do it on my own.
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