Chapter 8: The Blooded Soul
"There, that's all the places I can see you're injured," Hermione told Ron, scanning him one more time to see if anymore scrapes or bruises were still on him.
Ron pulled down the sleeve of his right arm and said, "Right here." He moved his head towards his right shoulder and used his left hand to stretch the collar of his shirt to reveal a nasty bruise.
Hermione placed her glowing wand on the injury and they both watched it disappear in a matter of seconds. "Anymore?" Hermione asked.
It was obvious she was trying to hurry because she was worrying herself over Harry's awkward behavior. Ron's left wrist had a bruise on it, but he forgot about it for her. "No, that's all, thanks," Ron said, giving her an appreciative smile.
"Good, let's go," Hermione said, leading the way out of the cell. Ron sighed and followed her out.
Hermione wanted to say something comforting to Harry because she realized something had bothered him (because the whole holding hands thing couldn't have… Harry wasn't that… shallow, was he?) but Harry had obviously chose to ignore it all. As soon as Ron and Hermione were in earshot, Harry said, "Be on your guard. Riddle knows we're here," he said, referring to himself and Hermione, "so that probably means the rest of this bloody manor knows, too."
Hermione winced a bit. Ron always used the term 'bloody,' and though it wasn't the nicest word to use, everyone was used to Ron saying it since he always used it, but it wasn't like Harry to use such words. She frowned inwardly and told herself not to worry about such trivial matters when two more people needed rescuing.
When Hermione began listening again, there was nothing to listen to. Harry had finished saying what he'd needed to say, Ron followed him quietly, and she figured she ought to do the same. But with a trio so similar, yet equally diverse, silence never lasted for long.
"Harry," Ron piped up, his voice echoing throughout the dark serenity about them. "I was just wondering how you knew I was a Diviner and all," he trailed off just a bit.
Ron and Hermione had been following Harry, and when he stopped suddenly, they both nearly tumbled into his back. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and turned a ninety-degree angle and leaned on a wall. He looked so different yet again. In the sullen darkness, he looked even paler… almost as pale as Draco Malfoy! His messy hair lay on his head in a depressing manner, salty glands of sweat having dampened it. His glasses had slid down his nose just a bit, but he made no attempts at pushing the spectacles back up. Harry's eyes were closed now, and he was so still that it looked as though he had leaned against the wall to take a nap, but suddenly, his eyes snapped open and two bright, emerald green circles appeared on his face.
Harry had made himself forget about the strange 'moment' Ron and Hermione had shared in the cell. He'd suspected since his second year at Hogwarts that Ron may have had a 'thing' for Hermione, and this was confirmed during their fourth year at Hogwarts, but didn't anyone care whether or not he had a 'thing' for anyone? Harry gave his head a gentle shake; he was confusing himself with so many 'things' now. But moving along, even now, he wondered if he really wanted to and/or need to tell his friends what he was preparing to tell them. They'd pretty much been asking him to tell them about his problems, and he'd done so before when he'd had other problems, but still…
"Do you really think it's fine to just stop in the middle of Malfoy Manor and start story time with Uncle Harry?" He suddenly asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Same stubborn Harry. "Well, if you don't feel secure telling us at Hogwarts where danger couldn't get at us even if we were painted magenta and hung by our toes in the Great Hall, then this ought to be the next best place to tell us!"
The left side of Ron's mouth began curling into a tiny smirk, but he looked over at Hermione and saw that she was thoroughly outraged at the moment, so he controlled his laughter. Ron looked over at Harry; he knew Harry would've laughed at the uncharacteristic remark Hermione had said had it been said at any other time, but this wasn't any other time, it was now.
Harry had been staring at Hermione, and after an uncomfortable pregnant pause he sighed. "You two remember how I told you I went to see Dumbledore? Well, I went to see him because I wasn't getting much sleep."
Hermione bit her bottom lip and nodded; she'd known about his sleep deprivation for a while now.
"From the beginning of this year, I haven't had much sleep. I'm not so sure about my marks in class anymore either," he said, turning to Hermione, "but after a few days of no sleep, just being able to keep my eyes open in class was an accomplishment to gloat about for me."
"Harry, you never told me— us— you never told us any of this," Ron said in his best comforting voice, trying to hide his shock.
"Yeah, well," Harry stuttered.
"I noticed," Hermione said softly. It hurt her that Harry had been so troubled for so long and even though she'd noticed, she hadn't tried to do anything about it. "You've changed Harry. You've lost your appetite, you've gotten pale, you don't talk much, and you ignore people you used to talk to."
"I know!" Harry barked. He gritted his teeth and looked at his shoes, ashamed for snapping at his friends. "I know," he said again, softer this time, "but I've been having visions lately."
Harry closed his eyes tightly. There, he said it, they knew now. How would they take it?
"Visions?" Ron inquired.
They didn't get it yet? He opened his eyes. "Like you," Harry told Ron. "You're a Diviner, aren't you?"
Ron nodded. "If what Riddle told me is true, I guess I am."
A sudden epiphany hit Hermione and she gasped a bit. "Diviners!"
"Duh!" Ron said.
Hermione glared at Ron and he stifled himself so Hermione could finish. "According to information from Denying Diviners and Dire Divinations (both by Icy U. Duke), even if a person's got an Inner Eye, that trait is not revealed until the individual is at least sixteen years old. Zaara Biznalia didn't get her powers until she was eighty-seven years old! Anyway, a Diviner's Inner Eye usually shows itself in time; it happens at different times for different people, kind of like puberty. The only way one's Divination powers can be revealed unnaturally is when the holder of the trait receives a concussion on the full moon of the twelfth hour of the twelve day of that particular month, which just passed— the day Ron was attacked."
Harry looked on intently, but Ron managed to mutter amazed, "That old hag was eighty-seven years old? Wild…"
"Ron! Pay attention!" Hermione roared. Ron shut his mouth and looked at Hermione. "As I was saying, when the Diviner finally realizes he or she holds this original— totally useless in my opinion— power, visions start flooding the individuals mind. You two need to learn how to control what you see. Even though Divination is kind of like a guessing game, true Diviner's have an actual Inner Eye. I assure you Professor Trelawney did not have a true Inner Eye," Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Ron, have you been seeing visions like Harry?"
"Yeah," Ron answered.
"Yes, so both you and Harry have real Inner Eyes! You don't have to sit down in front of a prop crystal ball to 'see' visions; they come to you naturally. Yet that can be rather inconvenient if you can't control your visions, like they can keep up you all night like Harry, but this is amazing! I could research with you two for hours!"
"Hermione," Harry pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Oh, yes, I'll do that after we get back to Hogwarts, but if you two need to know anymore about Diviners, past or present, or anything about Diviners in general, just ask." Hermione smiled contently, once again proud of her vast amount of knowledge.
"So, how exactly did we get our powers?" Ron wasn't showing much enthusiasm, but he was actually quite interested since this was the first time someone was taking the time to explain everything to him.
"Well, it's usually passed down through a family. It's not a common trait like red hair or something. The Inner Eye can stay a recessive trait for hundreds of years, even generations. Relatives you never knew you had might have had the trait and it suddenly appears in you! That's probably what happened with you though," Hermione told Ron. "As for Harry," she trailed off.
"Yeah, I'm different." Harry grimaced. Hermione looked as though she knew what might be coming, but Ron looked on with interest now. "When I went to see Dumbledore, I asked him about my visions. A lot of them were rather disturbing and some of them were about him as well. They started off with small things. For instance, I'd see that Neville would trip and then five minutes later, he really would trip. Then later I'd see the outcome of Quidditch matches and such, but after a while, they kept coming and wouldn't ever go away; most of them have been bad and that's why I went to Dumbledore… I don't want the visions. Anyway, Dumbledore told me that for the past fifty years— that's how much of the Potter family history is recorded for now, no one in my family has been a Diviner. It's a truly rare trait." Harry paused, and Hermione was biting her lip; now she knew what was coming. "Like my ability to speak Parseltongue, I'm a Diviner because it passed onto me through Vol— I mean, through You-Know-Who."
Harry sighed quietly. He was glad to have told his friends about his troubles. He knew Hermione already had known for a while what was going on, but how would Ron react? Harry looked up to see Ron had his head tilted to the right; he was digesting all this new information.
"Oh, is that all?" Ron said. "Okay, I guess we ought to find Ginny and Ferret-boy now."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. She'd been expecting some sort of outburst— happy, surprise, shock, anything! —but this was so strange! Hadn't he heard anything?
"Don't move," Harry suddenly ordered in a low voice.
"Harry what's—" Ron began, but before he could finish, Harry jumped with his wand in his hand and aimed above Ron's left shoulder.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted.
A muffled cry was heard. "Dammit! Missed!" Harry swore.
"Don't shoot!" A gruff voice called out from the shadows.
"Sirius?" Hermione asked.
"Stay back!" Harry hollered. Now Harry stood in front of his friends. Hermione and Ron weren't sure if he was ordering them or the unexpected visitor.
"Don't make so much noise—" the man began.
"Name yourself and state your purpose!" Harry ordered.
"Uh… I just wanted to help you lot with directions… forgive my soar throat though, seems as though a frog's set himself into my neck!"
The man began stepping out of the shadows and bowed elegantly. "The name's Evra Von, resident vampire. It's a pleasure to meet you all."
"Von what?" Ron asked. "Von Kladmir? Von—" Ron choked on his words. "Merlin's beard! Did you say that frog was just in your throat?" Ron stared goggle-eyed at Evra as Hermione stepped on Ron's foot, trying to stop him from being any ruder.
* * *
Blaise stormed through the corridors, her curly locks of hair bouncing excitedly and tickling the smooth skin on her face all the while. The high-heeled boots she wore created an echoing staccato-like sound as each shoe hit the marble floor over and over— not exactly annoying, but not all too pleasing either.
That Lucius! Blaise thought to herself, overcome by rage just thinking about Mr. Malfoy. The time will come when he is at my mercy, and when that time comes; I won't have any mercy to give him!
Blaise stopped walking, uttered a password of some sort, and the phoenix statue before her began spinning and it soon revealed a set of stairs. She climbed the spiral staircase, straightened out her clothes just as Hermione once did when she'd been in front of this door, and then she knocked twice on the door.
"Come in," Dumbledore's raspy voice called out.
When Blaise came in, she thought only she and Professor Dumbledore were the only people in the grand office, but then she took a closer look at a jar the Headmaster was holding. Rubeus Hagrid and her house leader, Severus Snape were miniature humans held inside that very jar!
"Headmaster, do you really think that's—!" Blaise began.
"It's quite alright," Dumbledore told her. The miniature Hagrid was ramming into the walls of the jar and Snape was trying to fix his snapped wand. Dumbledore sighed and pointed his wand inside the jar. "Petrificus totalus," he said lazily, and with that, the jar looked like it held dolls instead of living, breathing wizards.
Relieved, Blaise helped herself to a seat as Dumbledore conjured them both some tea. Blaise's regular girlish voice was gone now and she used a somewhat seducing, low voice to speak with Dumbledore now. "The plan has been altered a bit, sir. Draco is now the blooded soul and he's at Malfoy Manor as well as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley."
Dumbledore's eyes brightened then for a fleeting instant and something like a mad glint of glee passed through his eyes, and then they turned back to normal as he continued to listen to what Blaise had to say.
* * *
"Oh, you noticed my original little physical attribute?" Evra inquired.
"It's hard to miss!" Ron blurted out, not minding his manners.
"Yes, well, I'm a Snakeman, not a Frogman. Do you see any warts on this beautiful face?" Evra brought his face right next to Ron's and they stood, face-to-slimy-looking-face before Ron finally shook his head 'no' to get him away. "Thought so," Evra said pleased.
"Evra Von, is it?" Hermione asked. Evra nodded to confirm. "You said you were a vampire—"
Ron's face contorted. "You wouldn't be here to suck our blood, would you?"
"Oh, no, don't worry about that! I already had my fill today!" He said with a big grin. Ron's eyes were plates on his head now.
"Well, isn't a snake's blood poisonous to a vampire?" Hermione inquired.
"Why yes it is! You're a smart one, aren't you?" He was about to use his slimy hand to pat Hermione's head, but she quickly ducked out of the way and after Evra realized she valued her hair, he mentally forgave her and continued. "I used to be an ordinary snakeboy, ("Since when were snakepeople ordinary?" Ron had muttered in a nauseous voice.) but about three-hundred years ago, a Darren Crepsley was a vampire at large. Normal vampires will take what blood they need and then leave the human source alone— not killing him or her. However, when Crepsley drank from his victims, he would drain all the blood from his victims. That's not permitted in the vampire community, or any community at all for that matter. Anyway, I was homeless when I was young and one day that vampire confronted me. I didn't really know snakes were lethal to vampires, so at that moment I thought my life was over. On the contrary, however, I'd been turned into a vampire when Crepsley bit me whilst he died. The authorities found his body the next day, but they didn't know how he died. So there you have it— free history lesson."
"So you were alive three-hundred years ago?" Hermione asked a bit bewildered.
"Oh, you didn't know? Vampires have a slower internal clock than humans do. Did you know Kurda Gavner had two hundred and sixty wives throughout his whole life? Can you say pimp?" Evra chuckled to himself.
Ron's stomach lurched at hearing that and he had to lean against the wall to get a hold of himself.
"What? Aren't either of you vampires?" Evra asked flabbergasted.
"No!" Harry exploded. He finally spoke, but his face wore a defensive look and he still wasn't too happy about Evra's arrival even though he didn't pose as much of a threat at the moment.
"That's odd," Evra began stroking his chin. "The reason I headed this way was because I felt the aura of a vampire in distress!" He began scratching his nose now. "Oh well, I guess I'll be on my way now… must go help whoever it is—"
"You're leaving?" Harry asked astounded.
"From the looks of you, should you say, 'Yippee! You're leaving!'?"
Harry mouthed wordlessly. "You said you were going to help us with directions—"
"Well, what did you expect me to say when I was confronted by three wizards with their wands?" Harry hated the way Evra was always sarcastic.
"Two wizards and one witch," Hermione said, a bit irritated.
Evra sighed, ignoring Hermione's side comment. "You lot can come with me, but I still need to help whoever it is in the dungeons. Another vampire needs help and it's my duty to provide him help—"
"You're in Malfoy Manor and you want to help someone?" Ron had finally found his tongue again.
"No," Evra said, "I never said I wanted to." He smirked and began walking past the three of them when Hermione gasped aloud.
"OH MY— FOR GODRIC'S SAKE!" Hermione's eyes were wide open and her right hand was on her forehead and she was starting to look dizzy. Ron began rushing over to her side to help her stand, but Harry had beaten him to it. Ron paused, but decided to go to Hermione's side as well.
"Hermione, what is it?" Harry asked urgently.
"I can't believe I didn't realize it before," Hermione stuttered.
"Realize what?" Ron asked.
Hermione took a couple of quick breaths before she looked up at Harry and Ron in front of her and Evra's turned head. "Draco Malfoy is a vampire— the blooded soul."
There was a dreary silence after that, but Ron suddenly added darkly, "And Ginny's with him."
* * *
Draco walked slowly over to where Ginny was attached to the wall, but then—
Blood…
Draco gave a strangled cry and fell to his knees.
"Draco, what's wrong?" Ginny called out alarmed. "Draco—"
"I'm fine," Draco cut her off, in a low controlled voice. He slowly got back onto his feet.
Not now, he pleaded to the voices in his head. Draco was having a hard time breathing now and it was rather troublesome since he didn't know why, but he couldn't let on to Ginny, so he continued towards her as if nothing was wrong. But she wasn't that stupid; his knees buckling seconds ago must have her worried… just like a Weasley— always worried about everything and everyone else.
Draco now kneeled down on his left knee and took hold of Ginny's right hand. He ignored the concerned expression on her face. "Al—" he'd begun his spell but was forced to stop so that his coughing fit could pass. Ginny waited patiently and didn't say anything comforting because she'd realized her words weren't really having any affect on Draco… no one's words probably ever had any affect on him.
Draco cleared his throat once more after his sudden coughing had stopped and proceeded to saying the spell once again. "Alohomora," he hissed.
Of course, the shackle on Ginny's right arm unbuckled, but Ginny gasped whilst she was rubbing the area around her right wrist. Draco was suddenly shivering and sweating; he looked paler than he already was and he clutched his shirt above the area his heart was.
Had such a simple first year spell drained him of so much energy? Draco's mind was in a state of panic and he had almost no idea what he was doing anymore.
He didn't know why he was straining himself so much to free Ginny Weasley. So far neither of them had done anything all too kind for one another, yet here he was, mustering the last bits of his strength to free Ginny Weasley! Even if he was able to free her, he couldn't expect her to go anywhere what with being trapped in Lucius Malfoy's dungeon! Draco would've laughed at himself if he had enough strength to do so, but a thought struck him: Since his father had betrayed him… his evil father… siding with Weasley here… was it what he was supposed to do? His father's betrayal meant the betrayal of everyone else that respected Lucius Malfoy; did that mean Draco was supposed to switch sides?
Yet another thought hit Draco— a flashback this time. Surprisingly, it was of his younger self speaking to none other than Ginny Weasley.
It was just after the whole ordeal with Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets. Who would've thought that scrawny little girl was behind it all? He remembered that it was just the two of them in that particular corridor; both of them walking towards each other from opposite directions. He could sense that she felt intimidated, but he'd been impressed that her eyes remained locked with his the whole time they walked towards each other. When they stood next to each other, Draco had stopped and she'd followed suit. They stared into one another's eyes for a couple of minutes; he stared into her eyes— pools of chestnut-colored kindness as she stared into his eyes— cloudy, gray storm clouds peeking at the world through slits on his head. Finally, he spoke. "Bravo," he'd said at first. "Good game, Weasley." He spat the name out as though it had been something ill-flavored that had been rolling around on his tongue.
Ginny had given him a curious look, but she still stared at him. Being a second year student at the time, he felt superior to a simple-minded first year girl, so he took on an arrogant tone and explained. "Life is a game, Weasley, and for now, I guess you've won… or shall we say, you are winning? You win or lose, Weasley. Even someone as daft as you should understand that… but since you're daft and all, understand this: Your goody-goody tricks won't always work. Cliché as it sounds, Weasley, evil will prevail."
Ginny had been silent now, but she finally spoke. "That's pleasant, Draco," she'd used a tone where it seemed she was trying to annoy him by calling him by his first name. "But according to the words you live by, I guess you're losing."
Draco had been flabbergasted. The Weasley humor had to do in part with her quick mouth, but in reality, the reason he'd decided to pick on her was because he hadn't expected her to mouth off to him.
Ginny said something that sounded like, "Mreh," then she told him, "I've got to go to class now." She'd begun walking away and was behind him now when she spoke again. "By the way, you've a good sense of fashion. Those pants will get you places, you know."
Draco looked down at his leather pants. She's eleven! He'd thought to himself. But then again, he was twelve— wait! Was Ginny Weasley checking him out? "Holy Slytherins!" Draco muttered as his face contorted. Ginny turned back and looked at him through her eyelashes, giggled to her pleasure, and was on her way.
Now Draco knew why he'd thought of that moment in his past— Ginny Weasley was the only person who'd ever displayed any sort of kindness, even if it was mixed in with some verbal torture. Evil as he was— if evil was in fact what he was, a true wizard always returned a favor.
"Al— alohom— alo—" Draco had crawled over to Ginny's left wrist now and was trying to undo the chains around it, but it seemed no matter how much he wheezed, his body wouldn't let any spell pass across his tongue! It was getting very hot in the cell and without thought, Draco ripped off his expensive silk black shirt. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he wore a white undershirt beneath his shirt, but this didn't help much; his skin felt as thought it were on fire.
He began coughing again and this time blood came out of his mouth. Ginny, still attached to the dungeon wall by her left wrist, screamed and tried to get away. No matter how horrible Draco was he surely didn't deserve this and Ginny knew it, but she had no idea how to help him.
Suddenly, "Ginny!" A voice called out.
It was Ron, and immediately after that, Draco, exhausted and out of energy fell unconscious on the dungeon floor at Ginny's feet.
Credits: Evra Von, and the names Darren Crepsley and Kurda Gavner are all derived from the book, Trials of Death, the fifth installment in the Cirque du Freak series written by Darren Shan. Evra Von is a snakeboy, but not a vampire. Mr. Crepsley is a vampire, but he's a good vampire who does not drain his victims of all their blood (only vampaneze do that). Kurda Gavner is derived from the names of two characters (one good, one supposedly evil) and this was a perfect name for the guy with two hundred and sixty wives, since he needed good and evil in him to accomplish such an… accomplishment… o_O; Darren Shan rules and J.K. Rowling seems to think so, too. Her comment on his books are seen on the cover of each of his books: "Fast-paced… full of satisfying macabre touches… compelling… a plot full of twists which leaves the reader hungry for more." So don't sue me! Credit to Darren Shan for dreaming up such wonderful characters (and just know that the way I present them in this fic IS NOT how they really are supposed to behave according to Shan).
Author's Note: Wow! What a chapter! I didn't even go over-board on the imagery and descriptions yet it still turned out to be eight pages long! So now the main characters (except Ginny and Draco himself) know Draco's a vampire and we've met yet another vampire— Evra Von (the coolest name on Earth and my favorite character from the Cirque du Freak series). I think I'll be evil and make the whole H/Hr and H/R mystery last throughout a good chunk of this fic. Hermione's not with either guy yet, so it'll take time to hook her up! And let's not forget about Dumblee-dore! O_O He sure does look pretty evil, eh? Well, more about him much later…
Chapter Nine: Now everyone finally knows that Draco is a vampire… except Draco himself. *sweatdrop* Draco also has a rather peculiar dream and he finally wakes up as well. We also see a bit of Tom Riddle working in the garden. The two mysterious characters of next chapter? Evra, as he is already a mystery in himself, and Dumbledore himself— but he's always been a mystery.
Hugs to Bubble, Eiko, Jonah, bitchy brunette, and Ayla for reviewing! Senkyuu!!
"There, that's all the places I can see you're injured," Hermione told Ron, scanning him one more time to see if anymore scrapes or bruises were still on him.
Ron pulled down the sleeve of his right arm and said, "Right here." He moved his head towards his right shoulder and used his left hand to stretch the collar of his shirt to reveal a nasty bruise.
Hermione placed her glowing wand on the injury and they both watched it disappear in a matter of seconds. "Anymore?" Hermione asked.
It was obvious she was trying to hurry because she was worrying herself over Harry's awkward behavior. Ron's left wrist had a bruise on it, but he forgot about it for her. "No, that's all, thanks," Ron said, giving her an appreciative smile.
"Good, let's go," Hermione said, leading the way out of the cell. Ron sighed and followed her out.
Hermione wanted to say something comforting to Harry because she realized something had bothered him (because the whole holding hands thing couldn't have… Harry wasn't that… shallow, was he?) but Harry had obviously chose to ignore it all. As soon as Ron and Hermione were in earshot, Harry said, "Be on your guard. Riddle knows we're here," he said, referring to himself and Hermione, "so that probably means the rest of this bloody manor knows, too."
Hermione winced a bit. Ron always used the term 'bloody,' and though it wasn't the nicest word to use, everyone was used to Ron saying it since he always used it, but it wasn't like Harry to use such words. She frowned inwardly and told herself not to worry about such trivial matters when two more people needed rescuing.
When Hermione began listening again, there was nothing to listen to. Harry had finished saying what he'd needed to say, Ron followed him quietly, and she figured she ought to do the same. But with a trio so similar, yet equally diverse, silence never lasted for long.
"Harry," Ron piped up, his voice echoing throughout the dark serenity about them. "I was just wondering how you knew I was a Diviner and all," he trailed off just a bit.
Ron and Hermione had been following Harry, and when he stopped suddenly, they both nearly tumbled into his back. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and turned a ninety-degree angle and leaned on a wall. He looked so different yet again. In the sullen darkness, he looked even paler… almost as pale as Draco Malfoy! His messy hair lay on his head in a depressing manner, salty glands of sweat having dampened it. His glasses had slid down his nose just a bit, but he made no attempts at pushing the spectacles back up. Harry's eyes were closed now, and he was so still that it looked as though he had leaned against the wall to take a nap, but suddenly, his eyes snapped open and two bright, emerald green circles appeared on his face.
Harry had made himself forget about the strange 'moment' Ron and Hermione had shared in the cell. He'd suspected since his second year at Hogwarts that Ron may have had a 'thing' for Hermione, and this was confirmed during their fourth year at Hogwarts, but didn't anyone care whether or not he had a 'thing' for anyone? Harry gave his head a gentle shake; he was confusing himself with so many 'things' now. But moving along, even now, he wondered if he really wanted to and/or need to tell his friends what he was preparing to tell them. They'd pretty much been asking him to tell them about his problems, and he'd done so before when he'd had other problems, but still…
"Do you really think it's fine to just stop in the middle of Malfoy Manor and start story time with Uncle Harry?" He suddenly asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Same stubborn Harry. "Well, if you don't feel secure telling us at Hogwarts where danger couldn't get at us even if we were painted magenta and hung by our toes in the Great Hall, then this ought to be the next best place to tell us!"
The left side of Ron's mouth began curling into a tiny smirk, but he looked over at Hermione and saw that she was thoroughly outraged at the moment, so he controlled his laughter. Ron looked over at Harry; he knew Harry would've laughed at the uncharacteristic remark Hermione had said had it been said at any other time, but this wasn't any other time, it was now.
Harry had been staring at Hermione, and after an uncomfortable pregnant pause he sighed. "You two remember how I told you I went to see Dumbledore? Well, I went to see him because I wasn't getting much sleep."
Hermione bit her bottom lip and nodded; she'd known about his sleep deprivation for a while now.
"From the beginning of this year, I haven't had much sleep. I'm not so sure about my marks in class anymore either," he said, turning to Hermione, "but after a few days of no sleep, just being able to keep my eyes open in class was an accomplishment to gloat about for me."
"Harry, you never told me— us— you never told us any of this," Ron said in his best comforting voice, trying to hide his shock.
"Yeah, well," Harry stuttered.
"I noticed," Hermione said softly. It hurt her that Harry had been so troubled for so long and even though she'd noticed, she hadn't tried to do anything about it. "You've changed Harry. You've lost your appetite, you've gotten pale, you don't talk much, and you ignore people you used to talk to."
"I know!" Harry barked. He gritted his teeth and looked at his shoes, ashamed for snapping at his friends. "I know," he said again, softer this time, "but I've been having visions lately."
Harry closed his eyes tightly. There, he said it, they knew now. How would they take it?
"Visions?" Ron inquired.
They didn't get it yet? He opened his eyes. "Like you," Harry told Ron. "You're a Diviner, aren't you?"
Ron nodded. "If what Riddle told me is true, I guess I am."
A sudden epiphany hit Hermione and she gasped a bit. "Diviners!"
"Duh!" Ron said.
Hermione glared at Ron and he stifled himself so Hermione could finish. "According to information from Denying Diviners and Dire Divinations (both by Icy U. Duke), even if a person's got an Inner Eye, that trait is not revealed until the individual is at least sixteen years old. Zaara Biznalia didn't get her powers until she was eighty-seven years old! Anyway, a Diviner's Inner Eye usually shows itself in time; it happens at different times for different people, kind of like puberty. The only way one's Divination powers can be revealed unnaturally is when the holder of the trait receives a concussion on the full moon of the twelfth hour of the twelve day of that particular month, which just passed— the day Ron was attacked."
Harry looked on intently, but Ron managed to mutter amazed, "That old hag was eighty-seven years old? Wild…"
"Ron! Pay attention!" Hermione roared. Ron shut his mouth and looked at Hermione. "As I was saying, when the Diviner finally realizes he or she holds this original— totally useless in my opinion— power, visions start flooding the individuals mind. You two need to learn how to control what you see. Even though Divination is kind of like a guessing game, true Diviner's have an actual Inner Eye. I assure you Professor Trelawney did not have a true Inner Eye," Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Ron, have you been seeing visions like Harry?"
"Yeah," Ron answered.
"Yes, so both you and Harry have real Inner Eyes! You don't have to sit down in front of a prop crystal ball to 'see' visions; they come to you naturally. Yet that can be rather inconvenient if you can't control your visions, like they can keep up you all night like Harry, but this is amazing! I could research with you two for hours!"
"Hermione," Harry pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Oh, yes, I'll do that after we get back to Hogwarts, but if you two need to know anymore about Diviners, past or present, or anything about Diviners in general, just ask." Hermione smiled contently, once again proud of her vast amount of knowledge.
"So, how exactly did we get our powers?" Ron wasn't showing much enthusiasm, but he was actually quite interested since this was the first time someone was taking the time to explain everything to him.
"Well, it's usually passed down through a family. It's not a common trait like red hair or something. The Inner Eye can stay a recessive trait for hundreds of years, even generations. Relatives you never knew you had might have had the trait and it suddenly appears in you! That's probably what happened with you though," Hermione told Ron. "As for Harry," she trailed off.
"Yeah, I'm different." Harry grimaced. Hermione looked as though she knew what might be coming, but Ron looked on with interest now. "When I went to see Dumbledore, I asked him about my visions. A lot of them were rather disturbing and some of them were about him as well. They started off with small things. For instance, I'd see that Neville would trip and then five minutes later, he really would trip. Then later I'd see the outcome of Quidditch matches and such, but after a while, they kept coming and wouldn't ever go away; most of them have been bad and that's why I went to Dumbledore… I don't want the visions. Anyway, Dumbledore told me that for the past fifty years— that's how much of the Potter family history is recorded for now, no one in my family has been a Diviner. It's a truly rare trait." Harry paused, and Hermione was biting her lip; now she knew what was coming. "Like my ability to speak Parseltongue, I'm a Diviner because it passed onto me through Vol— I mean, through You-Know-Who."
Harry sighed quietly. He was glad to have told his friends about his troubles. He knew Hermione already had known for a while what was going on, but how would Ron react? Harry looked up to see Ron had his head tilted to the right; he was digesting all this new information.
"Oh, is that all?" Ron said. "Okay, I guess we ought to find Ginny and Ferret-boy now."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. She'd been expecting some sort of outburst— happy, surprise, shock, anything! —but this was so strange! Hadn't he heard anything?
"Don't move," Harry suddenly ordered in a low voice.
"Harry what's—" Ron began, but before he could finish, Harry jumped with his wand in his hand and aimed above Ron's left shoulder.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted.
A muffled cry was heard. "Dammit! Missed!" Harry swore.
"Don't shoot!" A gruff voice called out from the shadows.
"Sirius?" Hermione asked.
"Stay back!" Harry hollered. Now Harry stood in front of his friends. Hermione and Ron weren't sure if he was ordering them or the unexpected visitor.
"Don't make so much noise—" the man began.
"Name yourself and state your purpose!" Harry ordered.
"Uh… I just wanted to help you lot with directions… forgive my soar throat though, seems as though a frog's set himself into my neck!"
The man began stepping out of the shadows and bowed elegantly. "The name's Evra Von, resident vampire. It's a pleasure to meet you all."
"Von what?" Ron asked. "Von Kladmir? Von—" Ron choked on his words. "Merlin's beard! Did you say that frog was just in your throat?" Ron stared goggle-eyed at Evra as Hermione stepped on Ron's foot, trying to stop him from being any ruder.
Blaise stormed through the corridors, her curly locks of hair bouncing excitedly and tickling the smooth skin on her face all the while. The high-heeled boots she wore created an echoing staccato-like sound as each shoe hit the marble floor over and over— not exactly annoying, but not all too pleasing either.
That Lucius! Blaise thought to herself, overcome by rage just thinking about Mr. Malfoy. The time will come when he is at my mercy, and when that time comes; I won't have any mercy to give him!
Blaise stopped walking, uttered a password of some sort, and the phoenix statue before her began spinning and it soon revealed a set of stairs. She climbed the spiral staircase, straightened out her clothes just as Hermione once did when she'd been in front of this door, and then she knocked twice on the door.
"Come in," Dumbledore's raspy voice called out.
When Blaise came in, she thought only she and Professor Dumbledore were the only people in the grand office, but then she took a closer look at a jar the Headmaster was holding. Rubeus Hagrid and her house leader, Severus Snape were miniature humans held inside that very jar!
"Headmaster, do you really think that's—!" Blaise began.
"It's quite alright," Dumbledore told her. The miniature Hagrid was ramming into the walls of the jar and Snape was trying to fix his snapped wand. Dumbledore sighed and pointed his wand inside the jar. "Petrificus totalus," he said lazily, and with that, the jar looked like it held dolls instead of living, breathing wizards.
Relieved, Blaise helped herself to a seat as Dumbledore conjured them both some tea. Blaise's regular girlish voice was gone now and she used a somewhat seducing, low voice to speak with Dumbledore now. "The plan has been altered a bit, sir. Draco is now the blooded soul and he's at Malfoy Manor as well as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley."
Dumbledore's eyes brightened then for a fleeting instant and something like a mad glint of glee passed through his eyes, and then they turned back to normal as he continued to listen to what Blaise had to say.
"Oh, you noticed my original little physical attribute?" Evra inquired.
"It's hard to miss!" Ron blurted out, not minding his manners.
"Yes, well, I'm a Snakeman, not a Frogman. Do you see any warts on this beautiful face?" Evra brought his face right next to Ron's and they stood, face-to-slimy-looking-face before Ron finally shook his head 'no' to get him away. "Thought so," Evra said pleased.
"Evra Von, is it?" Hermione asked. Evra nodded to confirm. "You said you were a vampire—"
Ron's face contorted. "You wouldn't be here to suck our blood, would you?"
"Oh, no, don't worry about that! I already had my fill today!" He said with a big grin. Ron's eyes were plates on his head now.
"Well, isn't a snake's blood poisonous to a vampire?" Hermione inquired.
"Why yes it is! You're a smart one, aren't you?" He was about to use his slimy hand to pat Hermione's head, but she quickly ducked out of the way and after Evra realized she valued her hair, he mentally forgave her and continued. "I used to be an ordinary snakeboy, ("Since when were snakepeople ordinary?" Ron had muttered in a nauseous voice.) but about three-hundred years ago, a Darren Crepsley was a vampire at large. Normal vampires will take what blood they need and then leave the human source alone— not killing him or her. However, when Crepsley drank from his victims, he would drain all the blood from his victims. That's not permitted in the vampire community, or any community at all for that matter. Anyway, I was homeless when I was young and one day that vampire confronted me. I didn't really know snakes were lethal to vampires, so at that moment I thought my life was over. On the contrary, however, I'd been turned into a vampire when Crepsley bit me whilst he died. The authorities found his body the next day, but they didn't know how he died. So there you have it— free history lesson."
"So you were alive three-hundred years ago?" Hermione asked a bit bewildered.
"Oh, you didn't know? Vampires have a slower internal clock than humans do. Did you know Kurda Gavner had two hundred and sixty wives throughout his whole life? Can you say pimp?" Evra chuckled to himself.
Ron's stomach lurched at hearing that and he had to lean against the wall to get a hold of himself.
"What? Aren't either of you vampires?" Evra asked flabbergasted.
"No!" Harry exploded. He finally spoke, but his face wore a defensive look and he still wasn't too happy about Evra's arrival even though he didn't pose as much of a threat at the moment.
"That's odd," Evra began stroking his chin. "The reason I headed this way was because I felt the aura of a vampire in distress!" He began scratching his nose now. "Oh well, I guess I'll be on my way now… must go help whoever it is—"
"You're leaving?" Harry asked astounded.
"From the looks of you, should you say, 'Yippee! You're leaving!'?"
Harry mouthed wordlessly. "You said you were going to help us with directions—"
"Well, what did you expect me to say when I was confronted by three wizards with their wands?" Harry hated the way Evra was always sarcastic.
"Two wizards and one witch," Hermione said, a bit irritated.
Evra sighed, ignoring Hermione's side comment. "You lot can come with me, but I still need to help whoever it is in the dungeons. Another vampire needs help and it's my duty to provide him help—"
"You're in Malfoy Manor and you want to help someone?" Ron had finally found his tongue again.
"No," Evra said, "I never said I wanted to." He smirked and began walking past the three of them when Hermione gasped aloud.
"OH MY— FOR GODRIC'S SAKE!" Hermione's eyes were wide open and her right hand was on her forehead and she was starting to look dizzy. Ron began rushing over to her side to help her stand, but Harry had beaten him to it. Ron paused, but decided to go to Hermione's side as well.
"Hermione, what is it?" Harry asked urgently.
"I can't believe I didn't realize it before," Hermione stuttered.
"Realize what?" Ron asked.
Hermione took a couple of quick breaths before she looked up at Harry and Ron in front of her and Evra's turned head. "Draco Malfoy is a vampire— the blooded soul."
There was a dreary silence after that, but Ron suddenly added darkly, "And Ginny's with him."
Draco walked slowly over to where Ginny was attached to the wall, but then—
Blood…
Draco gave a strangled cry and fell to his knees.
"Draco, what's wrong?" Ginny called out alarmed. "Draco—"
"I'm fine," Draco cut her off, in a low controlled voice. He slowly got back onto his feet.
Not now, he pleaded to the voices in his head. Draco was having a hard time breathing now and it was rather troublesome since he didn't know why, but he couldn't let on to Ginny, so he continued towards her as if nothing was wrong. But she wasn't that stupid; his knees buckling seconds ago must have her worried… just like a Weasley— always worried about everything and everyone else.
Draco now kneeled down on his left knee and took hold of Ginny's right hand. He ignored the concerned expression on her face. "Al—" he'd begun his spell but was forced to stop so that his coughing fit could pass. Ginny waited patiently and didn't say anything comforting because she'd realized her words weren't really having any affect on Draco… no one's words probably ever had any affect on him.
Draco cleared his throat once more after his sudden coughing had stopped and proceeded to saying the spell once again. "Alohomora," he hissed.
Of course, the shackle on Ginny's right arm unbuckled, but Ginny gasped whilst she was rubbing the area around her right wrist. Draco was suddenly shivering and sweating; he looked paler than he already was and he clutched his shirt above the area his heart was.
Had such a simple first year spell drained him of so much energy? Draco's mind was in a state of panic and he had almost no idea what he was doing anymore.
He didn't know why he was straining himself so much to free Ginny Weasley. So far neither of them had done anything all too kind for one another, yet here he was, mustering the last bits of his strength to free Ginny Weasley! Even if he was able to free her, he couldn't expect her to go anywhere what with being trapped in Lucius Malfoy's dungeon! Draco would've laughed at himself if he had enough strength to do so, but a thought struck him: Since his father had betrayed him… his evil father… siding with Weasley here… was it what he was supposed to do? His father's betrayal meant the betrayal of everyone else that respected Lucius Malfoy; did that mean Draco was supposed to switch sides?
Yet another thought hit Draco— a flashback this time. Surprisingly, it was of his younger self speaking to none other than Ginny Weasley.
It was just after the whole ordeal with Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets. Who would've thought that scrawny little girl was behind it all? He remembered that it was just the two of them in that particular corridor; both of them walking towards each other from opposite directions. He could sense that she felt intimidated, but he'd been impressed that her eyes remained locked with his the whole time they walked towards each other. When they stood next to each other, Draco had stopped and she'd followed suit. They stared into one another's eyes for a couple of minutes; he stared into her eyes— pools of chestnut-colored kindness as she stared into his eyes— cloudy, gray storm clouds peeking at the world through slits on his head. Finally, he spoke. "Bravo," he'd said at first. "Good game, Weasley." He spat the name out as though it had been something ill-flavored that had been rolling around on his tongue.
Ginny had given him a curious look, but she still stared at him. Being a second year student at the time, he felt superior to a simple-minded first year girl, so he took on an arrogant tone and explained. "Life is a game, Weasley, and for now, I guess you've won… or shall we say, you are winning? You win or lose, Weasley. Even someone as daft as you should understand that… but since you're daft and all, understand this: Your goody-goody tricks won't always work. Cliché as it sounds, Weasley, evil will prevail."
Ginny had been silent now, but she finally spoke. "That's pleasant, Draco," she'd used a tone where it seemed she was trying to annoy him by calling him by his first name. "But according to the words you live by, I guess you're losing."
Draco had been flabbergasted. The Weasley humor had to do in part with her quick mouth, but in reality, the reason he'd decided to pick on her was because he hadn't expected her to mouth off to him.
Ginny said something that sounded like, "Mreh," then she told him, "I've got to go to class now." She'd begun walking away and was behind him now when she spoke again. "By the way, you've a good sense of fashion. Those pants will get you places, you know."
Draco looked down at his leather pants. She's eleven! He'd thought to himself. But then again, he was twelve— wait! Was Ginny Weasley checking him out? "Holy Slytherins!" Draco muttered as his face contorted. Ginny turned back and looked at him through her eyelashes, giggled to her pleasure, and was on her way.
Now Draco knew why he'd thought of that moment in his past— Ginny Weasley was the only person who'd ever displayed any sort of kindness, even if it was mixed in with some verbal torture. Evil as he was— if evil was in fact what he was, a true wizard always returned a favor.
"Al— alohom— alo—" Draco had crawled over to Ginny's left wrist now and was trying to undo the chains around it, but it seemed no matter how much he wheezed, his body wouldn't let any spell pass across his tongue! It was getting very hot in the cell and without thought, Draco ripped off his expensive silk black shirt. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he wore a white undershirt beneath his shirt, but this didn't help much; his skin felt as thought it were on fire.
He began coughing again and this time blood came out of his mouth. Ginny, still attached to the dungeon wall by her left wrist, screamed and tried to get away. No matter how horrible Draco was he surely didn't deserve this and Ginny knew it, but she had no idea how to help him.
Suddenly, "Ginny!" A voice called out.
It was Ron, and immediately after that, Draco, exhausted and out of energy fell unconscious on the dungeon floor at Ginny's feet.
Credits: Evra Von, and the names Darren Crepsley and Kurda Gavner are all derived from the book, Trials of Death, the fifth installment in the Cirque du Freak series written by Darren Shan. Evra Von is a snakeboy, but not a vampire. Mr. Crepsley is a vampire, but he's a good vampire who does not drain his victims of all their blood (only vampaneze do that). Kurda Gavner is derived from the names of two characters (one good, one supposedly evil) and this was a perfect name for the guy with two hundred and sixty wives, since he needed good and evil in him to accomplish such an… accomplishment… o_O; Darren Shan rules and J.K. Rowling seems to think so, too. Her comment on his books are seen on the cover of each of his books: "Fast-paced… full of satisfying macabre touches… compelling… a plot full of twists which leaves the reader hungry for more." So don't sue me! Credit to Darren Shan for dreaming up such wonderful characters (and just know that the way I present them in this fic IS NOT how they really are supposed to behave according to Shan).
Author's Note: Wow! What a chapter! I didn't even go over-board on the imagery and descriptions yet it still turned out to be eight pages long! So now the main characters (except Ginny and Draco himself) know Draco's a vampire and we've met yet another vampire— Evra Von (the coolest name on Earth and my favorite character from the Cirque du Freak series). I think I'll be evil and make the whole H/Hr and H/R mystery last throughout a good chunk of this fic. Hermione's not with either guy yet, so it'll take time to hook her up! And let's not forget about Dumblee-dore! O_O He sure does look pretty evil, eh? Well, more about him much later…
Chapter Nine: Now everyone finally knows that Draco is a vampire… except Draco himself. *sweatdrop* Draco also has a rather peculiar dream and he finally wakes up as well. We also see a bit of Tom Riddle working in the garden. The two mysterious characters of next chapter? Evra, as he is already a mystery in himself, and Dumbledore himself— but he's always been a mystery.
Hugs to Bubble, Eiko, Jonah, bitchy brunette, and Ayla for reviewing! Senkyuu!!