Disclaimer: I don't actually understand why I have to put this on here. I mean if I owned Harry Potter, why on earth would I be writing fanfiction? –mutters- Actually, if I owned Harry Potter (wouldn't mine owning Danny while I'm at it...Scratch that, the entire male cast) I would probably be locked up in my flat doing...-grins- Well, you guys get the picture.
Crappery: As it has been lately, nothing really to report. School work is annoying and there's far too much of it, but apart from the killer migraines I get, everything's good! It's taken me almost two weeks to update this, and please don't expect another chapter for a while. I have a quarter project coming up, which I might add is extremely stupid, and sooo many other things. I'll stop ranting now, and let you good people read this chapter...
Morgain Lestrange: Thank you so much! This chapter took me forever to write...
SuperHiperChit: I HAVE TO GET READY FOR HOMECOMING!!
valentines-hater: Oh yeah, the socks of the underworld are my kitties!
Alianora56: Well here ya go!
LosOjosDeLaVida: Yeah, this is my first Ginny/Draco...
Bride of Malfoy: Cliffy's are AWESOME!
Arya Raven: I hope ya like it.
aj: Oh be quiet...I thought it would be good, I needed something different for a change. I'm thinking about writing a Draco/OC one...
Pii Rainwalker: Aye aye
Hippie1212: Thanks!
charmedone2k5: THANK YOU KITTY!
Angryclouds: I love dark poetry...It's creepy
Queen of the Insects: Yeah, I hate getting cold...My toes go all numb and I get cranky.
Brie: Thank you
Werewolf Ate The Knave: Firstly, too hard to type in the alternating caps...Secondly I'm just gonna snort at ya....snort
Tigoamy: laughs Glad ya like it...
lucid-03-days: Of course I can, I'm the writer! And anyways, cliffies are evilly fun.
Monikka DaLuver: I like it too!
Chapter the Second
Vampyre
A cottony feeling lingered in her mouth as the darkness in front of her lids began to dissipate. She groaned very quietly and tried to move
one of her hands to rub her face, but she found she could not. The lingering tendrils of unconsciousness faded in an instant and her head snapped
up, the tender base of it roughly hitting a jagged stone wall behind her. She turned her head slightly and saw that her wrists were shackled above
her head and her feet just barely touch the ground, but they too were spread out and shackled at the ankles. She closed her eyes as she tried to
fight the terror welling up inside of her, trying not the think about the fact that she all she was wearing was a thin strip of black cloth that
covered her breasts and a similar piece rested low on her hips, ending at the tops of her thighs. She was an Auror and a member of the Order of
the Phoenix. She would be able to free herself with her wand, but her wand was gone. When that realization hit her, she knew she was utterly
defenseless and the walls she had just rapidly built up around herself to keep from freaking out, crumbled to powder.
"Fuck." She whispered, sudden tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "This can't be happening..."
"Oh this is happening my dear." Said a cruel voice.
Her body's mild thrashing stilled instantly. She knew that voice. Frigid terror swallowed up her and she turned to look at the platinum blond headed
male standing the doorway.
"Malfoy." She growled, hiding her fear as best she could.
Lucius Malfoy sneered at her and walked across the filthy, straw strewn floor, his cane clicking whenever it connected with stone.
"Now now, is that any way to treat your betters?"
"My betters?" She snapped. "If you're implying that you're better than me, then I do believe you have some serious mental issues to deal with."
He stopped a foot or two in front of her, his ice coloured hues raking over her form. A slight shiver racked her as she swallowed thickly.
"Do not try anything." He drawled, cool amusement on his face. "Although it won't make a whit of difference in the end, you'll just be killed like all
the others before you."
"Killed?"
"Of course, you are a prisoner of war now."
She swallowed thickly, rapidly squelching down on the oily slug of fear oozing up her esophagus. She took a deep breath and looked at him with all
the power she could muster.
"I am not afraid of you."
Silence permeated the filthy cell and Lucius Malfoy raised the tip of his grime mussed cane to lift her head up slightly. Her cyan hues darkened with
anger as he intentionally smeared some of the muck along the pale flesh of her neck.
"No, no...It is not me you need to fear Ginevra, it is those around you...Fear the powdering bones and festering flesh below your feet. For that is
your fate."
The metal door behind them began to click as somebody unlocked it, and he drew his cane away. He gave her a cold, unfeeling smile before turning
around and marching out of the tiny cell. She let her eyes close as she tried not to look down at the human remains lying discarded upon the straw
strewn ground, but she felt someone undo the painful shackles around her wrists and ankles, her lids slid open as her bare feet fell a few inches on
to the ground. A burly, heavy sat man with shorn black hair was standing right in front of her, staring at her softly bleeding wrists with a strange
hunger on his face. She wrapped her arms around herself, hiding her raw skin from him. After a moment the look passed and he roughly grabbed her
upper arm.
"Come." He growled, his deep voice making her shiver slightly.
He jerked her out of the miniscule chamber and into a grey stoned hallway. As she tried to keep up with him, her dirt streaked feet slapped quietly
against the freezing granite. She began to inspect her surroundings. The ceilings were neatly arched and the entire, seemingly endless corridor was
alight with flickering torches, the wall scorched behind their angry, wildly dancing pumpkin and ruby flames. She soon grew numb and just followed
after the man in a heavy daze. She was shaken out of her stupor when she bumped into his back. He turned and snarled at her, before shoving her
into the room they had stopped before. The door slammed behind her as her knees slammed into the lushly carpeted floor.
Her body, which had been thrown out of its daze all too quickly, crumpled onto the ground in a dignified, dirty heap. A soft moan of pain
slipped from her as one of her raw wrists rubbed harshly against the rug. A derisive snort came from somebody above her and she slowly lifted her
head, her eyes slightly unfocused. A pair of clear, mercurial hues met hers, one of the man's brows lifted slightly.
"They sent me you?" He hissed a strange emotion flashing onto his face before being replaced by an emotionless mask.
He cleared his throat. "Get up."
Without question, she was up and she felt strangely disconnected with the world and her filthy body. It was almost like she was under
Imperius...Her sleepy mind pushed that away, concentrating on the feelings of floating that were taking over her.
"Now go bathe yourself and dress yourself in the clothing waiting for you."
She slowly trudged over towards the bathroom, the warm haze keeping her from inspecting her surroundings. Once the door had shut behind her
the sleepy feeling evaporated from her veins, leaving a suddenly pissed girl behind. She marched back over to the door, but just as her hand was
reaching for the door knob, the lock clicked. An angry hiss slid out of her mouth, but the common sense that seemed to have rooted itself in her
and not in any of her brothers, showed through and she forced herself to take in a deep breath. She walked quietly over to the bathtub, it held up
on four ornate feet. She dropped to her knees, ignoring the faint stinging, and gently traced her finger tips over smooth, porcelain paws and
fingered the sharpness of the deeply coloured claws. She sighed quietly and stood back up, leaning against the lip of the tub. It was then she
turned her attention to the room she was in. On the ceiling was a gorgeous painting. A dark creature with blackish blue hair standing in a grove of
sad looking willow trees and its form was marred by the tentacle like branches that shielded most of it from view. Standing across from it was a
man dressed like a night from medieval times. Clasped in his hands and pointed right at the creature was a softly glowing sword of iron, it would
have pulsated had it now been painted and still. That actually surprised her. She would have thought that something so beautiful would be alive
and moving. She ripped her eyes away from the fresco, taking in the white marble that, in her tastes, seemed a little to snobby and posh for a loo,
no matter how regal a loo it was. She sighed again and dipped the tip of a finger into the water in the tub behind her, not at all surprised to find
that it was a little too cool. She snorted and shrugged out of her grimy dress. She stepped out of it and with her toes, flicked it into a corner.
Without a second thought she plunged herself into the water, eager to be clean.
Close to half an hour later she had dressed again in a simple gray gown that hung around her like a sack. She plucked at it and set the
dirty towel down by one of the large sinks, trying to ignore the dirty footprints she had created when she had entered. She stepped around them
to get to the door and tried the handle, hoping it had been unlocked. The door swung open and she walked out, she sinking an inch or so into
deep, black coloured carpet that seemed to swallow up her feet. She looked around the large bedchamber, taking in the tastefully done black,
crimson, and silver colour scheme. There was one thing that made her feel excruciatingly uncomfortable was the golden five pointed star that hung
above the head of the bed. It was about four feet across and five feet long and seemed to exude a very soft glow that lit up the area about it.
She took an uncertain step towards it, suddenly so very curious and wanting to touch it. She outstretched her hand and just as her fingers were
about to graze the peculiar surface, a voice cut through her daze.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
She turned around slowly, a sluggish feeling lingering in her veins. A man with ear length golden hair was watching her with slightly amused eyes.
His appearance sparked something in her cloudy memory, but that particular thought was unable to pierce the blanket covering the majority of her
conscious mind.
"Wha?" She mumbled.
"I see age hasn't improved you in the slightest, same vacant expression and second hand, grubby clothes. I had heard you were an Auror, I
thought you'd be a little more well off...I can't believe you're all they could catch, bloody pathetic."
The rude voice shook the cobwebs from her brain and her brows snapped together. She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the
other.
"You're still the same, stuck up prick you were when you were at school. Time hasn't changed you in the slightest, pity." She sniffed.
He took a menacing step towards her. "Do not mock me Weasley."
"I would never mock you! I shudder at the thought of ever saying anything contemptuous about a person like you!"
A growl left his throat and his hand darted out, slipping around her frail neck. His fingers tightened around her pale skin, silver eyes flashing
dangerously.
"Listen up; I'm never going to say this again. You are alive solely because I decided to spare your pathetic life. The moment you step out of these
rooms, you are dead. Not everyone here is as nice as I am."
"Nice?" She snorted. "You're about as nice as a rabid hippogriff."
His grip was so strong she was having trouble breathing, but that was not going to stop her being an ass to the guy who made her life and several
others hell. Her vision began to get a little splotchy, but she simply kept her eyes narrowed at him as little back dots swam before her hues. He did
not seem to notice that he was cutting off her air supply until a choking noise escaped her mouth and her eyes rolled back into her head as she
passed out. He dropped his hand, causing her to fall to the luxuriant carpet. Her head landed with a soft thunk and she just lay there as colour
flooded back into her nearly translucent flesh. He lightly prodded her form with the end of his steel toed boot.
"Wake up, you aren't dead. I can hear your heart."
A quiet groan and she pushed herself into a sitting position, leaning her head against the mattress behind her. "Why the hell did you do that?"
"Do what? Take advantage of the fragility of your body and show you that I am the one in control?"
She roughly stood up, momentarily swaying, before glaring angrily at him. "Just because you have deluded yourself into believing that you hold
some power, doesn't mean I have to think it too."
His hand reached out to grab at her neck and she unconsciously cowered away, the backs of her legs hitting the dark fabric of the bed.
"You see? You act as if you have no fears, but your body cannot hide it. You are weak."
"I am not weak!" She yelled, her ire suddenly boiling over. "Stop being so bloody presumptuous!"
One of his delicately manicured fingers trailed down her cheek, the nail leaving a slightly red mark in its path. "Such a shame that such potential is
wasted on a human." He spat the last word out as if it left an unpleasant taste on his tongue. "If only you were born as I was. It is not you who is
weak; it is your entire race. It is here only to be fed upon."
"Fed upon? What the hell are you talking about? You make us sound like animals."
"But isn't that what you are? Since time began humans have said that they are creatures of the earth, beasts just like those in the forest. How is
it than when this becomes something on an insult, it is no longer true? I was under the impression that one could not change one's nature..."
"I never said that I was an animal."
"But it goes without saying. You feast upon the flesh of your fellows, wallowing in their pain and suffering."
"I have never 'wallowed' in misery as you accuse me of. Again, you are being audacious!"
"I will not argue with you, but I am simply stating the truth. Never have I heard a human admit to their more, how should I say this...bestial
tendencies when they are accused of them. They relish the acts when they are..."
She had been biting her tongue for the majority of this conversation, trying to keep herself from speaking her mind. All his talk of the worse parts
of the human race was fraying her seriously thin nerves. His last comment snapped that fragile cord. Her hand flew up from its place at her side
and connected with his cheek, her cerulean hues blazing.
"I don't care about what you think Malfoy, you're only bad mouthing your own kind."
Her hand left an angry red mark on his pale flesh and he did not move, only staring at her with slightly raised brows. A chuckle erupted from him at
her words, a deep rolling sounds echoing in the relatively large room.
"My own kind? What kind of plant have you been smoking? I never once said that I was a mortal."
"If you aren't a mortal, than what are you?"
"A Vampyre of course."
"A Vampyre? Oh come on Malfoy. I would expect a First year to say something like that, but an adult? That is so sad."
He simply watched her, his silver eyes never blinking, never showing anything. After a moment her confidence in herself faltered slightly and her
arms slipped around her waist in a protective self hug.
"You can't be a Vampyre...They died out hundreds of years ago when Hermione Drakula was killed by the Vampire prince. It's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible dear mortal. Actually, nothing is impossible. I can see why you were chosen for the ceremony...Fiery temper, a strong will to
live, young...Although I cannot see the supposed beauty that you are supposed to possess." She bristed at his comment. "Oh don't fret, not that it
matters. It's all just for show now. You'll be killed just like all the rest."
"Killed?" She squeaked, suddenly loosing her hold on the fear that had been present since she awoke hours before in that disgusting cell.
Malfoy laughed coldly. "You are in a castle filled with hungry Vampyres, what do you expect your demise would be?" She opened her mouth and he
lifted his hand in a dismissive, silencing gesture. "Do not leave these chambers until I come back for you. Your life will be forfeit if you step into the
outside hallway. Do you understand, Weasley?" His voice had lost its cruel edge slightly.
She nodded slightly, the fight draining out of her. It suddenly seemed that all those times she wished for a better, more interesting assignment had
actually been for nothing more than a relatively interesting and painful death. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, pausing
momentarily to seemingly draw something out of the pocket of his robes.
"Put this on, that thing fits you like a potato sack." A mess of deep blue material was thrown at her head and then the door shut.
The moment she was alone she drew in a shaking breath and looked at the dress on the floor. She quickly rebuilt her walls around her,
strengthening them with all the years of abuse at his hands and others, building a fortress of ice around her heart and soul.
Well, it's longer than it's predecessor...Review?
Your Lord and Master;
Foamy the Squirrel