Chapter 18: Footsteps

Draco woke and looked around. He was in the Room of Requirements. The windows were shaded. Octavia sat at the vanity, brushing her hair. Draco stood and approached her. She didn't acknowledge him getting up.

"Octavia?" he asked. She set the brush down and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, standing. She embraced him. Draco wondered when she had felt so warm before. "I was afraid it wouldn't work—I'm so glad."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dost thou not remember?" Octavia asked. "Thou were skewered but Augustan not two nights ago. I turned thee to save thy life."

So that's why she's warm, Draco thought. "And Augustan?"

"He relinquished his hold."

Draco blinked. "He did?"

"Thou were fast asleep. But as thou drifted to sleep after I gave thee my blood, I…spoke…to him. Augustan was not pleased—he tried to take thee from me as thou slept. I told him that if he harmed thee, he would find me dead the next night by thy sword." Draco frowned. "He backed away from me after I threatened my own life and asked me how I had come to hate him so. I told him all I felt of him. I could see his heart break on his face, but he merely bowed to me and said, 'if thou art disliketh me so, than I have no choice but to leave thee to he who rests in thy arms.' He and his servant left after that. Blaise took the swords and buried them at the foot of the willow tree and I took you here so you could regain your strength."

She released him.

Draco allowed himself a moment to let this information sink in. I'm a Vampire. Augustan gave her up to me just by talking to her. But I'm a Vampire…

"How much longer until my powers are at its peak?"

Octavia shook her head. "I do not know."

Draco looked at the mirror. His ice blue eyes were no longer blue, but steadily changing to red. Currently, they were orange. He bore his teeth at his reflection and his fangs had already come in. Can't be much longer now, he thought.

Draco stepped away from the mirror and looked at Octavia. "I thought Vampires don't have reflections."

"We do, but not to the human eye," Octavia said. "T'is faint in their vision."

"Ah." Draco sat on the bed. His mind was reeling with thoughts varying from how he was going to finish school to what a strange world he had woken up to: a world he had openly embraced the moment he allowed Octavia to drink his blood.

"Thou art troubled?" Octavia asked, sitting beside him. Draco shrugged.

"Not really…" but it wasn't expected. But at the same time, I did ask her to turn me in case something like that happened. I should have…"I should have prepared myself for this outcome. I asked you to turn me in case something happened and there was no other choice that you could think of. I'm not upset—just really, really shocked."

"Then thou art troubled," Octavia said, embracing him. "At least you made the decision for this fate, unlike I did. Draco, thou art a hale man. And times are changing. Thou art the beginning to a new, accepting generation. Do not despair as I and my father despaired."

Draco nodded. "However, my parents aren't of that generation and many more are still getting used to that idea."

"And there be the cruel fate—revolution comes with strife, but after strife ceases, a new era can open up and begin. Thy mother and father are proud of thee. I have seen it that night I met them."

Draco laughed. "Proud of me? Right, not once did my father mention how proud he was of me. Nor has my mother. How would this be any different?"

"I have wondered that many times myself while trapped with only memories to keep me company. No matter what I believed, I always reminded myself that there were occasions where my father was very proud of me and that maybe I'd be released some day and allowed to at least live a life away from here if there was no other choice. I never believed that I would have lived one thousand years to see this bright and beautiful future."

Draco sighed.

In the distance, he could hear the screams of students who had defied the Death Eaters and he shuttered. He had no idea what to think of what was going to happen. If possible, he'd cut off his hand that bore the Dark Mark and fight alongside Potter.

Just two years ago Draco never would have dreamed of going against the Dark Lord. He was expected to join Voldemort, to follow Voldemort, and to serve Voldemort as long as he lived. Draco bit his lip and yelped.

Blood oozed out of the pinpricks and he hastily wiped his mouth.

He laid back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He was still so very tired. He felt Octavia stroke his head.

What was so beautiful about this era?

It wasn't as though much had really changed. In some ways much had changed, but there were still men like Voldemort, women like his aunt. That would never change.

Draco opened his eyes and glanced around the room trying not to attract Octavia's notice too much.

Thoughts trickled in and out of his mind.

Finally he made a decision. "I need to speak with my father," he said.

Octavia blinked. "Why for?"

"Why else?"

Octavia sighed. "It's still daylight, Draco."

"I'll take a cloak."

"But—"

"Stay here, I'll be back soon. I promise," Draco said. He kissed her forehead and grabbed a cloak before leaving the Room.

He strode down the hall quickly, careful to keep the cloak over his head. Students stared at him, but kept out of his way. He knocked on his father's door.

"Enter," Lucius' voice called.

Draco opened the door. He kept the cloak on, since sunlight tended to pour in from every direction. Lucius was sitting at the desk, writing (or grading, Draco wasn't sure what). "Father?"

Lucius looked up and stared at Draco. He returned to the paper in front of him. "Take that ridiculous thing off. It's just me."

"I can't do that."

Lucius stopped writing again and glanced up at Draco. "Did you…"

"I did."

Lucius stood up and approached Draco. "Look at me." Draco stared straight at Lucius. Blue met orange-steadily-going-red. Draco smiled, bearing inch long fangs at Lucius. He relaxed his jaw muscles. Lucius touched Draco's cheek. Draco pulled away from the sheer touch of his father's hand on his cheek.

"It's hot," Draco exclaimed, rubbing his skin to numb the heat.

Lucius sat down. "Why did you decide to turn now?"

Draco looked at his father and debated what he ought to tell him. "I was dying," he said finally.

Lucius glanced up, startled. "From…"

"Not from blood loss. Actually yes it was blood loss, but I was stabbed. I wasn't dying from Octavia drinking my blood. I was challenged to a sword duel with Mello about two days ago. Octavia stopped the duel after I was wounded and turned me. I just got up an hour ago, or two hours, I guess."

Lucius rubbed his forehead, fighting a headache. "I guess being killed speeds the process up a bit, but dear Merlin! I knew this might happen, but still."

Draco turned to leave, feeling awkward around his father.

"Draco," Lucius said. Draco turned to him. "What do you plan to do about the final battle?"

"Do we even know if it will be the final battle?" Draco asked. "Maybe it will be—it'll certainly be decisive. But," He looked at his arm. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it just yet. I'll let you know."

He left.

The hall was empty, but Draco felt something coming. He stopped and looked behind him. There was nothing. He reached out his hand.

He heard a slight gasp, but the walking continued, even though he knew he heard something. Draco snickered. "Potter, Granger. I don't know if Weasley's with you, but whatever you do, put a silencing charm on yourselves. You're really loud."

They removed the cloak, staring at him. Potter was holding Weasley back.

"How'd you hear us? We did use a silencing charm," Granger asked.

Draco blinked. "Oh…I guess my hearing's also getting better or something then."

"What? You get bit or something?" Weasley snarled.

Draco shrugged. "Something like that," he muttered, walking away.

"You're not going to stop us?" Potter asked. Draco shook his head.

"Not my concern."

Draco walked away, leaving the Golden Trio in great confusion, but he was more worried about what he would do now that he was no longer truly tied to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

He knew his aunt wouldn't hesitate to kill him if she knew he decided to leave the Death Eaters, but he had no true ties to them anyway.