A/N: Sorry for the time between updates! The truth is I'm still working and getting ready to move at the moment, so I don't anticipate them coming any faster. A big thanks to those who have reviewed so far! I love reviews! Also, a reminder, this story is thus far unbeta'd (except by me), so any mistakes are my own. If you catch anything terribly glaring that in my sleepy state I am not catching, please let me know and I'll fix it ASAP! Enjoy and have a great week!
A/N #2: Okay, so here is a re-upload of Chapter 2. I was not pleased with how it turned out, most likely because it was written quite late at night when I was running on little sleep. I have made SOME adjustments, mainly in the last scene of the chapter, so you may wish to re-read that before I upload Chapter 3, which should be coming sometime tonight. Remember, reviews are love! :)
Chapter 2 – Awakening
Draco felt as if he were swimming in a murky sea of molasses. It was as if he were constantly struggling to find some sort of awareness, some anchor to reality, but the second he seemed to have latched onto some small sound, some tiny glimmer of light, it was stolen again by the darkness of unconsciousness.
How long had it been since he had been abandoned by the hive in that cave? A day? Three days? A week? He had tried, at first, to escape the ever encroaching rays of the sun, but even a vampire's strength hadn't been able to make his ruined legs work. He might have been able to drag himself further away from the sunlight with his upper body strength alone, but as all the other human captives of the hive had been murdered long before, his "father" (as DarkStar had often referred to himself on the days Draco was "blessed" with his presence) hadn't even left him with someone from which to feed.
Draco had thought he had experienced pain while in the months – maybe even years – of his slavery. The beatings, the torture, the…violations…he had experienced while still human. All of those seemed beneficent as he felt – and smelt – his flesh as it bubbled, dried, cooked in the brightness of the sun. At least two days he knew he had been left there, exposed, seen by no one other than the other vampires of the hive as they appeared to be preparing to flee their nest. Draco did not know why he had hoped, expected even, at least one of those passing by to look on their long-term "companion" with pity. Even had any of the subservient vamps felt moved to assist Draco in his predicament, he knew they wouldn't. Fear of the master vampire, the leader of the hive, would keep them from lending aid. He had been marked to die at last, no longer even worthy to accompany the hive as their plaything. He had finally become utterly and completely broken.
So imagine his surprise, when only hours after the last vampires had retreated from their hideaway, a boy – no, man – with that unmistakable aura, that presence, crept into his line of vision. By then he had lost all hope of rescue, and had simply determined to wait for the coming of the sun, and the eventual release of the prison that had become of his body. Ironic, how on the very eve of his freedom, he should find himself enslaved again, indebted to the Savior of the Wizarding World.
Draco hardly recognized his own voice as he pleaded for help. "Get me out of here." He had felt the spell that lifted him from his precarious position on the dirty ground just as his mind retreated into unconsciousness.
"Surely you don't think…"
"Mr. Potter, we simply haven't the resources…"
"There's nothing more we can do…"
"He WAS just a Death Eater…"
"And what exactly am I going to do with you now, Malfoy?"
For hours, days, it seemed Draco had been picking up only bits of conversation, of awareness. He imagined, without his improved sense of hearing, he would have been oblivious to anything that had been going on around him. With the last spoken word, the mention of his name without disgust, but only resigned exasperation, seemed to force him to at last regain some sense of consciousness.
Having been in peril enough times since his ordeal began, Draco knew that he shouldn't betray his awareness, not just yet. Instead, he began using his improved senses to seek out as much information as his environment could give him. Even with his eyelids closed, he could feel the dim flickers of candlelight illuminating wherever it was. So, either it was after sunset, or powerful darkening charms had been used on any nearby windows. Or, even more likely, he was somewhere without windows at all. Some new torture chamber or prison cell, most likely.
But then Draco took in the feel of soft cotton sheets surrounding him, enveloping him in warmth. Definitely not St. Mungo's, he thought to himself, although he acknowledged it had been quite a while, since the end of the war in fact, since he'd felt the scratchy sheets of a hospital bed. Most likely not the Ministry, either…
Draco then sharpened his hearing, but aside from his own still somewhat raspy breathing, he felt the presence of only one other person in the room, one calm, but seemingly apprehensive rhythm of breath, one maddening pounding of heartbeat under skin that seemed to give off the most enticing smell of a fine merlot…
And that's when he felt it, the hunger burrowing in his stomach, threatening to burn him alive from the inside out. And he remembered the taste of that fine merlot-flavored life force, flowing down his throat as his rescuer held the nape of his neck for support.
Draco could no longer continue the charade of sleep anymore than he could stop being a Malfoy – though that was not nearly such an unpleasant thought as it might have been in his youth. He felt his upper body lift from the bed he inhabited with a force and a swiftness that he himself could not imagine completing, only to be met with thick bands of metal – most likely silver – winding around his wrists and preventing him from moving more than a few feet from the headboard of the bed. He glanced down quickly at his feet to discover the same adornment around his ankles, though quick attempts to move his legs at all proved fruitless.
Draco quickly looked up towards the source of the voice, his eyes seeming to bulge out of his skull with rage. The only thing that mattered about his bonds were that they were keeping him from that heartbeat, from that pumping that continued to tease so ruthlessly in Draco's ears, calling to him, insisting that he reach out and claim it, submit to it, ANYTHING, so long as the pressure in his stomach and the ever-increasing burning in his veins would stop.
Potter seemed to give a start when Draco had practically tried to fling himself off of the bed, but quickly regained his composure and seemed to smirk – and since when did Potter smirk? – at Draco.
"What, Malfoy?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did you really think I would leave a hungry vampire unbound within the sanctuary of my home? I know you thought me a dullard in school, but please give me SOME credit."
Draco might have come up with a scathing retort, if anything Potter said was reaching his ears. All he could see was the slight pulse of blood at the base of Potter's throat. All he could hear was the relentless thumping in his ears.
Potter, seemingly understanding his lack of attention, simply sighed. He pointed his wand to a table near Draco's bedside, levitating a goblet that must have been previously placed there.
"Drink," he said while levitating the goblet so that it was at Draco's eye level and within his shortened reach. As soon as Draco's eyes connected with the goblet, and his nose picked up the slightly coppery smell radiating from within it, he grasped onto it as if afraid it would vanish in an instant, before throwing back his head and guzzling the liquid down his throat. Had he been looking at Potter, Draco might have seen him flinch slightly at the sight of the thick red liquid escaping through the corners of his mouth and down his chin to land on the dark blue pajamas he seemed to have acquired since his rescue.
Draco could focus on nothing, however, but the feel of that magical liquid running down his throat, soothing the burning within his veins starting at his stomach and radiating outward. In moments he felt his calm returning, his hearing sharpening, and his focus flit away from the overwhelming hunger he'd felt so strongly before. And in that instant, fear seemed to have returned to Draco's world.
The goblet fell from his now trembling hands and rolled off the bed onto the dark carpeted floor. Draco's eyes darted around the room wildly, looking for a source of escape. There was of course, the door leading outside of the room, and a single window opposite said door, but both seemed to glow faintly in Draco's vision from what he assumed was the magic of wards placed around the room. The silver bonds he'd been restrained by also seemed to glow with that sort of magic, as if, even without his wand, Draco was some sort of threat. Draco felt himself growing hysterical, and finally let out a soft chuckle that soon enveloped him into a raging fit of laughter.
Potter seemed baffled by Draco's sudden hysteria, hesitantly reaching as if to place a hand on Draco's ankle, the closest he felt safe to touch without coming within striking distance of his bound hands or fangs. "Malfoy?" he asked hesitantly, and the mock concern Draco felt radiating from those emerald eyes only seemed to heighten him to new levels of hysteria.
Then Potter's hand seemed to grasp onto the ankle it had been hovering, and the world returned to pain. Draco let out a muffled sob before collapsing into the bed in pained shivers. He tried in vain to pull his leg from Potter's grasp, but the realization that he still couldn't move his legs only drove him into further sobbing.
"Shit," Malfoy heard Potter say, almost under his breath. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I forgot the healers said it would still be painful to apply any pressure." Draco struggled to breath. It seemed as if Potter's innocent attempt to comfort him had brought awareness of the state of his cracking skin back to Draco, and he squirmed helplessly on the duvet as what had felt like a soft cloud became harsh as sandpaper.
Luckily for Draco, he had become more than capable of bearing out the sort of pain he was facing now. He forced himself to calm down and relax, hoping that by not shuffling anymore against his bonds or the bedclothes, he would at least manage not to irritate his cracked skin anymore than was necessary.
Potter seemed to watch him as Draco's breathing returned to normal before attempting to speak again. "I really am sorry, Malfoy. The Healers – well – they didn't seem to know how to help you. They just said you'd need to stay away from sunlight for a while until your body had the chance to repair the damage yourself. I suppose the fact that you haven't really fed in Merlin knows how long hasn't helped, and I can only spare so much blood from myself."
"Not that the Healers would help, even if they could." Draco kept his voice cool and monotone, even as Potter jerked a little, he supposed in shock of hearing Draco's voice. Draco allowed himself the privilege of a slight smirk, though both speaking and the gesture continued to crack at his abused skin. Draco did his best to conceal the pain, however. He had already found himself physically vulnerable to Potter. No reason to include any emotional ammunition for Potter to add to his arsenal later. "I am nothing more than the Mark on my arm to the wizarding world."
Potter seemed to be at a loss of words for the moment, which increased Draco's mood considerably.
"So, where's the Weaslette?" Draco asked off-handedly. He had not seen nor smelt any evidence of Ginny Weasley's existence since he had woken, and Potter HAD said that they were in his home. Surely he must be living with his fiancée' by now.
Draco looked up and was surprised to see Potter's face gone slack with what appeared to be shock. His face was pale, and it seemed that he had somehow instantly broken into a sweat. Draco couldn't help but allow his face to contort in confusion, again shooting slight shocks of pain through his facial muscles.
"Malfoy," Potter began after several moments, although his courage seemed to falter mid-thought. For once Draco decided to keep his mouth shut and allow any information to come to him. Merlin knew he'd been out of contact with the rest of the wizarding world since his abduction, but surely he hadn't been gone long enough for the two to have broken up. They had been together since Potter's sixth year of Hogwarts, even if they hadn't been "officially" together during the worst part of the war, and no one had been surprised when they reunited afterwards. They were just one of those couples who seemed to have been made for each other, as disgusting as the thought still seemed to make Draco.
"Malfoy," he began again, "How long do you think you've been missing? I mean, since you disappeared from the wizarding world. I mean, I assume you've probably been with the hive most of the time, but I guess I can't know that for sure."
Malfoy shrugged before he closed his eyes and wincing in pain. Gotta stick to the verbal answers, right, he reminded himself as the jolt of pain he'd caused in his shoulders faded back into the dull throb his entire body seemed to be housing. "I don't rightly know. I remember it was shortly after you killed…You-Know-Who…The world was celebrating, except for those of us on the…wrong…side." Even now, Draco had trouble admitting that the winners had deserved to win, but he felt no reason to antagonize Potter now, as vulnerable as he was. "I didn't even know anyone had noticed the Malfoys had disappeared. I suppose you must have found Mother and Father…back at the manor?" Draco turned to meet Potter's eyes briefly. Potter gave a brief nod before Malfoy turned his head away again. "The monsters that killed them…They decided I was just too pretty to be left there." Draco shivered with the remembered disgust, the pain, the violation. "So I became an unwilling hitchhiker if you will, drug from place to place as the…hive…moved. I really have no idea how long I've been gone. They kept me under sleep spells during daylight, and when they didn't feel like…playing…with me. Frankly, I preferred unconsciousness anyway."
Draco glanced back over at Potter, who now seemed to be staring at him with an intent expression that seemed to make Draco's skin catch on fire, and not from the uncomfortable slide of fabric across his skin. He quickly returned his eyes to the ceiling before he continued.
"In any case, I don't have any idea what's been happening since I left." Draco longed to give a nonchalant shrug, but knowing that would only cause him agony, he gave a careful sigh instead. "So hit me with the bad news…How long have I been gone? And why haven't you answered my original question? We all know the Weaslette wouldn't have left the Savior of the Wizarding World. She would have been downright STUPID to give up the perks of being with the Chosen One." Draco had been trying to keep his tone neutral, but the bitterness simply wouldn't stay away.
Draco took a chance at looking at Potter again. The intent stare he'd seen only moments before had turned into a harsh glare, and the pale skin Draco had seen only minutes before seemed to have flushed with rage. The magic around Potter seemed to crackle, and Draco thought he could make out the candles around the room giving slight shudders with the power emanating throughout the room.
"Malfoy, you disappeared almost eight years ago." Draco couldn't help but hitch his breath, no matter how hard he tried to hide his emotions. Eight years??? He had been kept as little more than a torture and sex toy for that band of monsters for close to a decade??? He knew his eyes were threatening to widen impossibly from the shock, so he elected to close them to keep Potter from knowing how his words affected him. Draco could still feel the enraged magic floating through the air, though, and he heard the anger in Potter's voice when he spoke again. "And Ginny's been dead for six." Draco heard the body in the room shift and shuffle towards the door he'd seen earlier, before he heard the door slam shut.
And there, in the privacy of that small bedroom, Draco allowed his first tears to fall, in pain, from the trauma and shock of his ordeal, and in grief, for the lives he had lost, and for those who had been left unmourned.
Harry didn't know why he'd found himself in front of his fireplace pacing, the rage that he'd become so good at controlling crackling wildly as magic seemed to sprout in sparks from his fingertips.
He didn't know, Harry had to remind himself over and over again. He couldn't have known, he had no way of knowing, and you have no way of knowing what he's been through. Harry didn't LIKE the git, that was to be sure, but he also knew he had no way of understanding the tortures Malfoy had been through. DarkStar and his followers had left a bloody trail of torture and death in their wake, and Malfoy had been in their company for close to a decade. Harry could not afford to lose the trust of the one eyewitness he had managed to keep alive.
Harry knew, of course, that the bad blood between himself and Malfoy would make building trust an unlikely event, but he thought they had at least gotten a decent start. Harry had shown he meant Malfoy no harm in bringing him into his home, trying to keep his hunger at bay, and attempting to get him some medical attention. Malfoy seemed to have accepted his own physical vulnerability and had shared his experiences in DarkStar's company, however vaguely, with Harry. Harry couldn't help but feeling if he just kept his patience, and continuing on the current track, then he could maybe at least get some useful information out of the ordeal, and maybe in the meantime help Malfoy adjust to his new…existence.
Harry heard the chime of the floo before looking down and seeing Hermione's face appear in the flames.
"Harry?" she asked tentatively when she saw him pacing in front of the fireplace. "I'm sorry for calling you so late, but I figured you would be up anyway since Malfoy would be waking sometime tonight."
Harry sighed deeply before looking towards his best friend. "Yes, he's awake. Or at least he was. Sunrise will be soon and I'm sure he'll drift back off to sleep. He seems to be in a great deal of pain, so I imagine unconsciousness is probably a preferred state at the moment."
"I really am sorry about that," Hermione said with what seemed to be genuine remorse. "You know the Healers and their…opinions…towards former Death Eaters." Harry couldn't help but smile at Hermione. Ever the underdog, even when those carrying the Mark had cost her so much. Just one of the many reasons Harry loved her. "But I am definitely working. Give me another day or so and I'll see if I can find something to help speed his healing along, and maybe a way for him to feed without you having to go around cutting yourself everyday."
Harry sighed. If only she knew… "It's really not a big deal, 'Mione. It's not like it takes THAT much blood to keep him satisfied, at least temporarily. I don't know what he'll do when he's back to full strength, but for now it seems to be enough."
"It does worry me, though," Hermione continued, still lost in what must be her musings from the research she'd conducted the day before. "I am wondering why his legs have shown no signs of healing at all. Do me a favor, won't you, and look him over again once he's asleep. No need to disturb his slumber, but we need to see if keeping him away from sunlight is helping to regain his regenerative abilities."
Harry nodded. "Will do." Harry couldn't help but be amused at how Hermione had jumped into his case with Malfoy head first. She had given her notice to leave her research work at St. Mungo's for the duration of her pregnancy, but it seemed she couldn't just quit altogether. "He was a lot more coherent tonight than he was when we found him, but physically it's like nothing has started to heal."
"His body is still in shock, I'm sure. From the damage to his skin and the angle that sunlight had to have been coming into that cave, it had probably been at least two days since he'd been left there. His own natural healing may kick in anytime. If it doesn't, of course, we may have other issues to worry about. Only time will tell." Hermione paused and seemed to think a moment before continuing. "I'm proud of you, Harry, for treating him with respect while we've tried to get this mess worked out." Harry couldn't help but smile at the praise, even if it did cause him to roll his eyes a bit.
"It's not like we're school children anymore, Hermione," he said with a sigh. "I know we've all changed in the years since he's gone missing, and if what little he's told me is true…He's been held captive by that hive for close to a decade. There's no telling how he might have changed, even BEFORE he was turned. Speaking of which, has your research so far turned up anything else useful?"
Hermione sighed. "Nothing of any real value. Vampires are supposed to be able to heal themselves of almost anything if given enough rest away from sunlight, but of course you know that already. There aren't many records of vampires having survived such long-term exposure, though, most likely because those survivors aren't likely to have come into any significant contact with wizarding historians after going through such an ordeal. And I still am puzzled about those gashes on his legs. They appear to have been inflicted BEFORE he was turned, so they should have healed themselves with his transformation. Vampires usually find themselves in what we might describe as perfect physical condition from the moment they are turned."
Harry frowned. "I know at least that he still has feeling in his legs. I sort of…touched…his ankle earlier." Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and gave a small sigh. Harry immediately jumped on the defensive. "I promise, Hermione, I was just trying to comfort him. He had gotten all hysterical and I was trying to pull him back into reality. Seemed to work a bit too well though, as it seemed to remind him of the pain."
Hermione gazed up at Harry thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose that's a good sign at least. The nerves in his lower body haven't been destroyed if they can still send pain signals to his brain. Whether that means we'll be able to reconstruct his legs or not, I don't know." She paused a moment before continuing. "Harry, you ARE taking the proper precautions, right? I know Malfoy may have changed in the time since we were in school, and I know how you get when you encounter these hopeless causes, but please do remember you are sharing your home with a newly turned vampire. They are unstable even once mature, but the newly turned….well, they are a bit unpredictable."
Harry smiled indulgently into the floo. "Hermione, please give me a LITTLE credit here. I am a highly decorated auror with plenty of experience, especially the last several months, with dealing with vampires. Draco Malfoy never gave me much to fear at Hogwarts, and I highly doubt he'll do so now."
Hermione smiled back. "I know, I know, but someone has to spend time mothering you." She shot a playful smirk at her best friend. "And Merlin knows Ron isn't going to do it."
Harry gave a slight chuckle before preparing to close down the floo. "What would I ever do without you two, I just don't know."
"Be completely lost and alone, of course." She yawned. "Time for me to get a bit of rest. Impossible to learn ANYTHING on little sleep you know, and I want to have some more information for you by the time he wakes at sunset. Good night, or morning, Harry. Please floo if you need ANYTHING." And with that the flames fizzled out. Harry sat on the chair nearest the fireplace and stared out the window, where the sun had begun to rise. And though he should have been contemplating sleep, instead he found himself wondering. Was he really, as Hermione implied, lost and alone? Although at one time he might have brooded on the thought, Harry decided to luxuriously stretch his arms before heading for his own room, across from Malfoy's. With a severely injured, newly turned vampire living in the bedroom across from his, Harry had more things to worry about than a few ill-placed comments.
