Day 0

The next morning, he felt even more exhausted than the days before, having slept less than three hours a night for over two weeks now. Before that – no, he was not going there. He couldn't remember sleeping back then, only unconsciousness. How long could a wizard survive without sleep? He wasn't sure, but he hadn't felt really awake for a very, very long time. Everything was one huge, hazy nightmare which he desperately was trying to survive. Being constantly afraid drained his strength even faster, and he was nearing a point where he was well and ready to give up completely, not caring anymore about what happened to him.

Wiping the last specks of nonexistent dust from the shelves of the humongous library, he was so tired that he didn't even complain mentally about cleaning duty being beneath his standing as a Malfoy. Him not being a Malfoy anymore was half the reason – his father had disinherited him as soon as Draco had fallen into… disgrace.

Almost zombie-like, he walked into the kitchens to get his breakfast. Since he wasn't on the special diet of regular… donors, he could choose whatever he wanted, trying not to think about those plates of pre-prepared vegetables, yoghurt, and fatless meat. He shuddered just at the impression of being fed like cattle.

Despite not being hungry, he forced himself to eat a reasonable amount of oatmeal, lest he get another summon to her. Last time, she had not been very pleased with his refusal of food.

Afterwards, he quickly returned to his room to change into more suitable attire, mentally steeling himself for the coming day. He had been given three outfits to use inside the mansion, sleepwear, and two surprisingly elegant outfits to wear outside. She had told him that, since he was her slave, he represented her and that a badly dressed slave threw a negative light on her.

Other slaves passed him on his way to her quarters, never paying him more attention than a brief glance. In their free time in their rooms, they could talk, but when on duty for her, they were expected to communicate only what was necessary. Swallowing heavily, he stopped in front of the heavy blackwood door that was the entrance to her quarters, trying to find the courage to knock. But before he could raise his fist, the door swung open on its own accord, and he chastised himself for not expecting that she had wards that would alert her to any presence outside her rooms.

Carefully, he stepped inside.

He had seen her main rooms before, but every time he was overwhelmed again by the sheer amount of dragon paraphernalia littering every free surface. There were pictures of dragons on the walls, teeth, claws and scales in bowls on every surface, reddish threads he thought were dragon heart-strings suspended in mid-air in intricate weaves, a whole dragon skeleton hanging from the high ceiling, and of course, a whole library of shelves filled solely with books about dragons. He had never been in the rooms that led off this one, but he supposed they didn't look very much different. She was verifiably obsessed with those reptiles.

"Here."

He hadn't heard her leave those chambers hidden behind a glittering pearl curtain, and thus was quite startled by her sudden appearance next to him. She was holding a vial with a steaming, venomously green potion, apparently expecting him to drink it. Was she going to poison him? Heart pounding in his throat, he inched away, not knowing of any benevolent potions with that kind of color.

She frowned, her petite form inordinately menacing without her actually doing anything. "Do I have to force you?"

All his blood was leaving his face when more and more memories of countless foul-tasting brews being poured down his throat rose to the fore of his mind. A heavy sweat sprung onto his face when he compulsively shook his head, but he made no move to take the vial from her, staring at it like hypnotized. He could feel a very low growl filling the room, grating deeply into his bones. It was as if the vibrations thrust into the core of his being, snapping his free will like a twig.

"Drink."

The single command was enough to send his mind hurling with pain, his body acting without his consent, downing the potion in one go. It burned going down into his stomach, raising tears of pain in his eyes, but it hardly was the worst pain he had ever gone through. When the burn spread through his body though, he had to grit his teeth to not howl out loud, and when it invaded his brain, he barely felt her catch him as his legs gave out from under him.

When he could think again, he found himself lying on a soft leather couch in the center of the room. There hadn't been one there before, probably conjured. Still shaking from the aftermath of agony, he nonetheless tried to sit up to see where she was. What had she given him? He didn't feel any different, but that didn't have to mean anything. He knew of enough slow-acting poisons where the person wouldn't feel a thing until the last minutes to be scared out of his wits. And how had she made him drink it? Was that the vampiric magic so many dark creature books had warned him against?

Barely suppressing a shudder, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he found her seated in a conjured armchair, studying him intently. He shrunk back into the couch under her focused gaze, not able to suppress memories of his capture. Finally, she nodded.

"Good. Your mind has been blocked against telepathy. And before you work yourself into a frenzy, I have not poisoned you. There are going to be some vampires there today, and I do not care for anyone picking my secrets out of your mind – or blood."

With alarm he noted that she had practically implied that other vampires would feed on him, sending him nearly into hysterics again. Since his capture, only she had taken his blood. And with her, he was at least reasonably sure that he would come out alive and not hurt too badly. If only because she still desired him as unpaid labor. But other vampires…

He didn't even realize how he was wringing his hands until her icy cold command froze him.

"Stop it. I want you on your best behavior today, so do not disgrace me. As nice as I usually am, you won't like the consequences if you step out of line. Now come here."

It was as if a switch had been turned over in his brain as he scrambled to obey her command, not wanting to face her wrath. She wrapped an arm around him, like when she was going to feed on him, but then he felt disoriented for a brief second. When he regained his balance, he realized that they were outside a medium-sized cottage in the middle of nowhere.

Meadows with grazing beasts and occasional trees stretched into the distance until a dark forest swallowed the horizon, and several large greenhouses were grouped around the wood and brick building. It was not even a quarter as big as Malfoy mansion, and not as elaborately decorated. It looked more like a holiday cottage than a real home, but the interior probably had been enlarged. With its rustic walls and thatched roof, it didn't look anything like the lair of a vampire, not even close to projecting the majestic air of her estate. But – wasn't that a few thestrals grazing calmly between unicorns? Since when did they eat grass, and since when could he see…

Abruptly, he cut off his trail of thought. He didn't want to remember his failure with Dumbledore, which would only lead to his subsequent punishment. Instead, he took care to follow her the requisite two steps behind and to the left.

During his first few days under her care, she had made sure he knew all the house rules and how she expected him to conduct himself both in public and the privacy of her mansion. And she had made sure he knew what kind of punishment would await him if he broke those rules. Although she had only told him and not done anything, he'd gotten more fodder for his nightmares.

So he tried to obey her rules and commands to the t, throwing covert, anxious glances at her back to see whether he was doing anything wrong.

They entered the cottage without any problems; the door didn't appear to have been locked, and nobody greeted them. Was the cottage empty? She had said they were going to meet someone, but he hadn't seen her deactivate any wards, so there either were none or she was keyed into them. Or had she used her wandless abilities that were so far beyond his skill with a wand that he couldn't even imagine it? Had she telepathically contacted the owner?

Once inside, he could immediately feel an incomparably strong presence, nearly overwhelming him with its darkness. He paled dramatically, caught in indecision between following her towards the source of the presence and disobeying her commands.

She seemed to feel his hesitancy. But unlike at her mansion, she immediately looked at him sharply and growled. Once again, the vibrations set his bones trembling, rendering him completely helpless in the face of her anger. Heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage, he once again fell into step behind her, trying not to imagine the horrors awaiting him.

The further they wandered into the house, the thicker the presence became, sending cold sweat onto his brows. He was so afraid of it that he didn't perceive any details of the hallways and rooms they passed. He only had a feeling that the cottage probably had been enlarged since it hadn't looked that big from the outside.

Finally, they entered an artificially darkened living room where there already were three people and a … very strange, black-skinned creature with wings and red eyes, waiting for her to join them. A brief glance from the corner of his eye revealed more details. The winged creature was something of a mis-formed cross between a black-scaled dragon with the physiognomy of a large hunting cat, and a head of something that could have been a wolf once, if wolves had scales and neck-spines. Its eyes were red and glittered maliciously, its teeth were long and needle-sharp, and its talons didn't look much better.

Draco shuddered. He had never seen a creature like this before, and if he saw one in his next life, it would still be too soon.

The large animal took up the whole couch, with two tall, dark-haired men, one of them around his own age, one approaching his thirties, and one slightly shorter woman seated on chairs around it. A fourth chair was empty, probably for his master. Were all of them vampires? And what was that creature? Their pet? It certainly looked dangerous enough, and he certainly didn't want to enrage it.

All three of them exuded oppressing presences, but with all the power filling the room, he couldn't distinguish whom the strongest and darkest one belonged to. But all three of them definitely were very powerful. The only time he had felt a similar power was when the Dark Lord himself had shown his anger.

Suppressing his need to swallow thickly, he followed her into the room and knelt down at her feet as protocol demanded. There were no introductions made; they all seemed to know each other.

"Someone we should know?" The creature taking up the whole sofa growled curiously, pointing to him with its barbed tail. He barely refrained from flinching at the sight of the murderous weapon. It was sentient? Why had he never heard of a species like that before? He just hoped that it didn't like human flesh.

"My newest slave, had to replace old Linus. This is Draco Malfoy. I'm headed over to Hadrian's after this. Draco here was a Death Eater so Hadrian asked for any information he might have."

She – what? She just told them that he was a Death Eater?

"Malfoy, eh?" the younger black-haired man said, "I've heard that name. Farov's been going on about another of that family, his father probably."

Oh Merlin, what were they going to do with him? He could care less about his father after the man had enthusiastically taken part in torturing his own son, but he had gained a short glimpse of the vampire called Farov – and his slaves. All of them had been young, beautiful boys with dazed expressions on their faces, and at least one of them constantly clung to the vampire's side. They hadn't looked mistreated or malnourished exactly, but they hadn't looked all there, either. Draco really didn't want to know what happened at night behind closed doors.

"Ah, that explains a lot. When Farov found out I had this one he tried to buy him," his master said.

That was what they had been talking about? Draco had only seen Farov from afar while he was on one of his slave duties. He hadn't even known that the other vampire had expressed any interest in him! Draco thanked his lucky stars that she hadn't sold him; he didn't have many hopes of escaping unmolested – as a Malfoy he knew he was beautiful – but at least his master was a woman.

But her next words sent his heart to the bottom of his feet.

"I haven't actually said no yet. You see, this one has been a problem. That is why I'm here now. He is intelligent enough and much more than average for a mortal in power. It is the inner workings of his mind that are a problem. Draco, wait outside for me," she ordered abruptly, nodding towards the door.

Heart beating so loudly that he barely could hear his own thoughts, Draco rose and left, holding his legs straight with sheer willpower. Was she really considering selling him? The door closed magically behind him, and by the abrupt cessation of noise, there must have been silencing wards erected.

The hallway was almost as dark as the sitting room had been, with the sudden silence ringing in his ears. Anxiously wringing his hands, he paced back and forth, trying not to take note of the deep shadows the staircase stretched into.

Last night, she had said something about a mortal owing a favor to her, but which of them was mortal? Over the last few weeks, he had learned pretty well to distinguish living people from undead, but he hadn't dared look at them long enough to identify any characteristic attributes, like pale, almost glowing skin, or unnatural stillness. And what was the problem with the inner workings of his mind? Hadn't she said herself that it was natural for him to be afraid of vampires? And how was a mortal going to help?

Worrying himself almost into a frenzy, he stopped his pacing at the sole window in the hallway, hoping that the view would calm him. But the sight of grazing thestrals only made his hands clench harder around the windowsill, fighting to keep memories at bay.

When the door to the sitting room opened suddenly he flinched, turning around quickly to see her coming towards him with an unreadable expression on her face. Without a word, she caught his shoulder, and once again the disorienting feeling swept over him.

He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to not ask what had been decided. He was anxious to know his fate, but was even more scared of her punishing him for speaking out of turn.

This time, they stopped in front of a mansion that looked just like he imagined a vampire's lair to look like. It was at least twice as big as Malfoy mansion, stretching majestically across the grounds with four floors above ground and probably at least half the number beneath, heavy drapes obscuring the windows, and a well-tended garden in the front.

The heavy brass door at the entrance was opened by a servant, human he realized, who bowed to her. "Lord Hadrian is waiting for you in his study, Lady Mariah."

She just nodded regally and strode inside as if she owned the place. Draco had known she was old and powerful, but that she was to such a scale? Some books had mentioned that vampires had a very rigid hierarchy, and when being in another's territory, it was best to show oneself respectful unless one was a lot stronger. He didn't have any idea who or what the people in the cottage had been, but, after the book on vampire politics she had forced him to read (and quizzed him on afterwards), he recognized the name Lord Hadrian as the city master of London. A very powerful and influential vampire. And she was allowed to act in such a manner in Lord Hadrian's very own mansion.

Suppressing a shiver at the thought of what was going to come, he followed her through elaborately and tastefully decorated hallways to an anteroom, where they were being received by an elegantly dressed, aristocratic man who definitely was a vampire, judging by his extended canines. Though elegantly dressed in flowing red and white linen, the vampire's clothes looked like they had been imported from ancient Rome and changed only minimally to enhance the intimidation factor. The vampire bowed gracefully to his master, showing his respect.

"Mariah. What a beautiful specimen. I see you already have him well-trained?"

Draco definitely didn't like the look the vampire was shooting him, quickly lowering his gaze to the floor once again.

She laughed. "He didn't appreciate Farov's presence, so I doubt he would appreciate yours any better. He is damaged enough as it is, no need for you to add to it. You wanted to question him concerning his days as Death Eater?"

So this vampire was the city master himself. It took all his willpower not to start shivering at the implications of Hadrian's similarity to Farov. For once he was almost grateful for her presence, as much as it scared him at other times.

"Yes, indeed. We have several accounts of loyal Death Eaters spouting their pureblood nonsense unless given veritaserum or being fed on, but he has experienced both sides. I think he could have valuable information."

She shrugged her shoulders, the tiny beads of her thousands of plaits tinkling musically. "I have drunk his blood a few times, but I haven't found anything noteworthy. Of course, I haven't looked for it either. You can go ahead, this morning I have given him the standard blocker to conceal anything of importance concerning my estates."

Lord Hadrian smiled thinly. "I don't think I need to tell you that I'd bet quite a lot on the potion being anything but standard. But as long as it doesn't interfere with his memories from before, I can understand."

Without hesitation the vampire glided towards him, and he was frozen in fear while his thoughts were racing a mile a minute. The potion this morning had been to conceal his thoughts from Lord Hadrian? Why had his whole body hurt then instead of only his head? And how much could a vampire read from feeding on someone? Why was Hadrian trying to gather intelligence against Death Eaters? He thought all vampires wanted to join the Dark Lord, despite Mariah's assurance to the contrary.

The cold hands clamping around his neck and shoulder sent icy panic into his gut, but before he could start struggling he felt the bite, and then he didn't want to struggle anymore because he felt so relaxed. He didn't know how long it took, hanging almost limply in the iron grip. When the vampire finally stopped feeding, he felt vaguely faint. Stepping away, Hadrian licked his canines clean with a thoughtful look on his face that was beginning to swim in and out of focus. If Mariah hadn't reacted quickly enough, Draco would have fallen to the floor because he was weaker than he had thought. Through the swooshing sound in his ears, he could hear Hadrian saying something about "interesting, very interesting" and Mariah excusing them. Then, the disorienting sensation came again, and together with the blood loss, it was too much for him. He fainted.

________

When he woke up again, he immediately recognized his room at Mariah's estate with a mixture of relief and anxiousness flooding him. The duster he had dropped on the floor this morning was more than proof enough to identify the room as his, since all slave quarters looked the same except for their personal belongings. After capturing him, she had provided clothes for him without any comment, and he had been given things for personal hygiene, very much to his surprise. He would have liked his wand better because it had taken him several days to learn how to use the muggle razor without cutting himself, ensuing in quite a bit of ribbing from other servants.

A note was left next to a vial of potion on his nightstand, telling him that it was blood-replenisher and that he would do well to drink it. Since it looked and smelled like the blood-replenisher he knew, he didn't hesitate long and swallowed it in one gulp, hoping that it would cure his light-headedness. Drawing a face he acknowledged that, yes, it also had the obnoxious coppery-salty taste of blood-replenisher.

He had barely set down the empty vial when there was a knock on his door.

"Yes," he asked.

It was opened to reveal a slender woman of approximately forty, who was tasked with helping him adjust to his life here. She was very friendly, but not very out-spoken.

"Mistress wishes to see you in her chambers as soon as you feel well enough."

He almost flinched. Fainting in front of Lord Hadrian certainly meant he was going to be punished. "Thank you. I will leave here shortly."

Nodding, she closed the door behind her, and Draco half-seriously debated with himself whether he felt well enough or not. He was more than convinced that now she was finally going to kill him, probably not without punishing him first – otherwise he simply wouldn't have woken up again from his faint. The way she had looked after exiting the cottage, and him fainting in front of London's city master did not bode well. From the very beginning, she had impressed on him that he was to ensure her good reputation, behaving well in front of other vampires or else.

And this morning, he didn't think he had left a good impression.

He was afraid of death, but he didn't want to make her any madder than she probably already was, so he nervously smoothed down his robes. He missed his wand something terrible; he never could stand wrinkles left in his clothes by sleeping in them. And with his wand, he would be able to at least defend himself properly. But since she was a vampire, she could probably evade any spells he cast at her because she simply was too fast.

Vampires were perfect for preying on humans, completely ruthless, and the magical ones had centuries of experience in wielding magic. He'd have no chance.

He took a deep breath and dried his sweaty hands on his robes. Making his way to her quarters for the second time that day, he was going even more slowly than before, dreading what was to come. Once again, the door opened before he could knock, although he hadn't even tried to this time.

"Draco," she stated seriously. "Do you know why I have called you here?"

Jerkily, he shook his head, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists to relieve at least some of his anxiety. He didn't dare look at her. How was she going to kill him? He hoped it was a quick death, but…

She continued, and he could almost hear laughter in her voice. "No, I am not going to kill you. Yet. Rahkesh Asmodeus, the owner of the cottage, has agreed to take you in for a while. Tomorrow, we will leave after breakfast, so pack clothes for at least one week. But," she turned serious once again, "should I hear one word from Rahkesh that you haven't been behaving yourself, you have forfeited this chance. And mind you, there will not be many chances for you anymore. I do not need a slave who is so scared and broken that he cannot even follow simple orders. Do you understand?"

Eyes wide, he nodded almost compulsively, and when she dismissed him, he more or less fled her rooms to hide beneath his blanket. Only the thought of the punishment for not finishing his daily chores got him moving again. He didn't sleep well that night, either.

A/N:

As you can already guess, the next chapter is going to be the actual meeting between Draco and Rahkesh. I've been trying to get Draco's angsting right, but I'm not quite sure I've set the mood correctly. Any ideas on how I could improve that would be welcome!

Sakiku