A/N: It's completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Enjoy.
Chapter 18
Harry waited with the entire audience. They had been curious to hear what Ron and Hermione had to say, but this was why they had come. Harry Potter was going to spill all the secrets on his latest vampire adventures, and they wanted to be there to hear them. Harry felt like a spectacle.
He could almost picture everyone munching on Bertie Botts or arrogantly popping a bubble of Drooble's as they gawked. Instead, he averted his gaze to the floor. Without Draco by his side, he suddenly felt defenceless. Draco must have felt it too because when he glanced back – everybody's eyes trailing his – he saw the blond was clutching the armrests with a death grip. Ever the prideful one, he refused to shrink back in his chair. Harry smiled, although it faded quickly.
"So, Mr. Potter, you went out while you were...infected?" Harry nodded.
"Yeah – I mean, yes, I did go clubbing once or twice to try to keep my mind off of things. There was a point before Draco knew where I didn't want to get him involved. At least, I didn't think he would want to..." Harry trailed off, again glancing down at his shoes as if they were the most fascinating thing in the room. He had always hated attention, but he had never been so clearly put on a stool for everyone to stare at. It made him twitchy.
"I see. And did you feel the urge to bite anyone during your many adventures? Or did you, in fact, bite anyone while you were out? May I remind you that you must answer honestly." Harry felt his lips twitch upwards. They had only asked him about biting someone while he was out. They hadn't asked about while he was inside the comfort of his room – well, makeshift room.
"No. I only went out after I was fully satiated, when I knew there would be no concerns. I didn't want to risk hurting anyone. I was as careful as I could be." Ms. Thatcher pursed her lips.
"Well, describe exactly how you felt – should I say, feel – about blood."
"In what way?" He shrunk down as much as he could, feeling cornered. There was no normal way to describe this.
"When you're thirsty, when you feed – just give a general description on how you view blood as a vampire." Harry paused; there was no way to phrase this delicately.
"Blood is life. When I'm - I need it, it's not like being hungry as a human. I feel like I'll die if I don't have it. A part of me is willing to do anything to –"
"Even kill?" Ms. Thatcher asked. Harry hung his head.
"Yes, even kill." People immediately burst out talking. Ms. Thatcher had to wait a minute for them to calm down.
"Carry on, Mr. Potter."
"And when I drink it, I can taste the person behind it. It's humming with their energy."
"And how do you feel when you drink it?"
"I feel at peace. I feel powerful and horrible. I didn't ask to be this way! I don't want to have to feed off of others," Harry pleaded for them to understand. This was going the wrong way. He didn't want them to think that he was a monster, but the way the words were coming out of his mouth, it sounded as if he found pleasure in watching people drain away.
"And yet you do. How many times have you drunk it? Have you ever drunk directly from someone?" Harry winced.
"A handful. I thought you cleared this up with Ron and Hermione." They had both been separately asked whether Harry had taken blood directly from them. Harry desperately hoped they didn't ask whether he had drunk from anyone else because then he'd be forced to admit...
"Perhaps you want to add a few more details. How exactly did you stop once you started? I would imagine for a creature that lives off of blood that would be difficult." Her gaze challenged him to disagree.
"I managed to pull away, and I had Ron and Hermione as back-up. I told them if they even thought for a moment that I was going too far that they should stop me. It wasn't my idea. I didn't force myself onto them," Harry explained, watching as a few people in the audience nodded as if this somehow made sense to them.
"And yet you took advantage of them knowing that had you gone crazy, they probably would have been unable to stop you." Harry stuttered. He remembered making some similar argument at the time. But he had never meant for anyone to get hurt. And no one had. He was far from guilty!
"I never meant…" He shook his head.
"Any other differences you care to note before we get to Mr. Malfoy?" Harry went to shake his head, but stopped.
"Wait, actually yes. I just want to say that I understand that there is some kind of an animalistic instinct inside of me. I know you see the red eyes and you want to think I'm a horrible monster. I'm certainly not a person, but I'm not the thing you're trying to say I am. I'm not attacking anyone, and you see that I'm not chained up."
"You may not be a horrible monster, Mr. Potter, but you still do pose a threat to the society. Say Mr. Malfoy and yourself get in an argument. Say he leaves you, this time permanently. How would you react?" Shuddering at the thought, Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from keep from replying. "Or say someone tries touching him to guide him somewhere. Your automatic reactions say that you should attack. You may have been lucky enough to have prevented these things a few times around, but say someone isn't as quick that time around. You may only kill one person, but that's one person too many." Harry found himself agreeing with what Ms. Thatcher was saying. But what exactly did that mean for him? "You may be seated Mr. Potter."
"Thank you." He kept his eyes down as everyone followed him back to his seat. The moment he sat down, Draco grabbed his hand, and Harry noticed that both of theirs trembled.
"We now call Draco Malfoy to the stand."
"I love you," Harry whispered. Draco looked back, a small hint of a smile on his face.
"I know." Strolling over he reached his spot on the stool and paused. "I'd like to use a Pensive as my part in this." At these words there was an immediate uproar. The thought of Draco giving his testimonial through a series of memories – it was unheard of.
"I've –" Ms. Thatcher paused, clearly at a loss for words. "Why would this be a good method? How do we know it'll answer our questions?"
"By now you barely have anything else to ask about Harry. What you want to ask me has to do with what I know about vampires. But I can hardly put that into words. I can show you everything. I promise not to leave anything out. If you don't believe me, I'd recommend a truth spell. That's seemed to convince the others." He glanced back at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"I see. And who exactly would see these memories? I don't think we can bring in the whole council."
"Clearly I'd want you to see it as well as the Minister. I only ask that you let Harry see this as well. He has every right to." Draco held himself proudly as Thatcher looked at him in bewilderment.
"You may have a ten minute break while the council decides." Draco strolled back over to his seat, and Harry gaped at him, unsure what to say. He hadn't been expecting this. What exactly was Draco going to show him? He knew the basic story, sure, and he thought what he'd hear today would only be a regurgitation from the earlier one.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Malfoy," Hermione muttered, looking concerned. "I don't think that this has ever happened before. I don't even know whether they'll approve it."
"Merlin, I think everyone's going to go crazy if they say yes," Ron added, glancing around at the people, who were now frantic, exchanging words with people beside them and looking over at the group ever few seconds. "This whole thing is giving me a headache. We barely avoided confrontation about the whole 'Malfoy's a vampire' issue."
"Shush," Draco said, giving Ron a firm stare. "I don't want anyone overhearing. But, yes, we were lucky. I plan to tell that about that, not show it."
"Gee, I wonder why," Ron said, snorting. It was Harry's turn to glare at his friend.
"You want me to see this?" Harry finally asked. He wasn't sure what to make of it.
"I promised you I'd explain why I was helping. I did give you the basic story. But I want you to understand. I didn't want to hurt you. And I know I was being unreasonable. What you said was true, the other night, about me replacing you with –" Before Draco could finish, Ms. Thatcher's voice boomed above the ruckus.
"Mr. Malfoy, your proposition has been accepted. You, Mr. Potter, the Minister, and I shall meet you outside of the courtroom to take you to another room where this will be arranged."
"This is it," Harry muttered. "If this doesn't work, I'm screwed."
"I believe you've already been screwed," Draco added, winking. The show was merely mock bravado, though, and Harry could tell.
The moment they stepped outside of the courtroom, it was immediately quiet. Kingsley looked at the two of them with gentle eyes. It was obvious he had judged Harry's innocence long ago. Ms. Thatcher, however, remained less convinced. In silence, they led them to another small room. It was bare except for a table holding a pensive. Draco paused.
"I don't have my wand. I'm not sure how else to pull out my memories..." Kingsley glanced over at Ms. Thatcher. She cautiously pulled out her own wand.
"If you try to do anything else, the Minister will stop you, and you'll both immediately be arrested. Isn't that right Minister?" She looked over at Kingsley with a false sweetness that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Umbridge. Kingsley merely nodded, however.
Draco produced a silvery trail of memories, and placed them in the Pensive. They swum about, and Harry looked at them with a heavy heart. What was he going to see? Draco's story had been one of horror, and he could only imagine that seeing it would be awful. It had been horrible enough to hear about it... At least he'd get to see this infamous William.
"There are some – err – inappropriate scenes that I can take out, if you'd like. I just think they'll further your understanding," Draco said as they took a step forward.
"That's quite alright. As long as you're willing to share them..." Draco nodded, and the three of them dove down.
The first scene showed Draco younger than Harry had ever seen. He stood by his father's side, looking up at him with wide, admiring eyes. Lucius was clearly leading him somewhere, and Harry had a guess where that would be.
"I was six years old," Draco explained, looking over at his younger self. "It was the first time I found out about vampires."
"That young?" Thatcher asked. Before he could respond, Lucius Malfoy began to speak.
"Now, Draco, what I'm showing you is a secret."
"You're trusting me with a secret?" Draco asked, beaming at his father.
"This isn't any little task, Draco, but I think you're old enough to understand that our lives aren't as simple as you'd wish them to be." Draco tilted his head and smiled, ignorant of what awaited him. "If you tell anyone, even Mother –"
"But why mustn't Mother know?" Lucius suddenly glared at him, and Draco took a step back, biting his lips.
"She simply cannot. And if you tell anyone, I'll know. If you tell anyone, horrible things will happen to you."
"How so?"
"I'll make sure of it." The look Draco gave his father was no longer one of respect, but of fear. This was clearly a side of his father he didn't see often.
"Your father threatened you?" Draco nodded.
"He upheld that threat, too. I'm guessing he had something to do with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo, considering the message." Harry wrapped his arm around him, staring in horror as mini-Draco and Lucius approached the door to the basement.
When he opened the door, a burst of groans and moans came from the inside. Draco shifted uncomfortably before following his father and shutting the door behind him. What met his eye clearly was not what he expected. Pressing up against the wall, Draco looked around at the sight with wide-eyes, shaking.
"But they're –"
"Vampires, Draco, yes." Lucius addressed it as if it were completely normal for tends of vampires to be crowded around in their basement. Around them people lay fainted, blood smeared on their necks. A few of the vampires were asleep, and others were still drinking from other humans. The people still seemed to be alive, and they clearly were enjoying it. Some people had their hands down their pants, stroking themselves and moaning, their heads thrown back. No one paid much attention to the fact that Lucius and his six year-old son had entered the room.
There was a sudden cry, and Draco's eyes moved over to see one girl throw her head back, biting her teeth and bucking her hips. The vampire above he continued thrusting into her, licking the streams of red that flowed down her shoulders.
Thatcher was the first to comment. "Dear, God, but these are people! Are they under the some sort of charm, or..." Shaking his head, Draco averted his eyes. Feeling him trembling, Harry placed a kiss on his lips, and felt the blond immediately relax. When he pulled away, he answered.
"They're willing victims. A vampire's venom is addictive. It's stimulates the body. Granger and Weasley could have told you that. Some people just can't resist the rush, and they like the danger. The bites are easy enough to hide, and they can always come for more. They paid my father. It's how he made a good deal of money."
Draco suddenly collapsed to the floor, retching, and Lucius pulled him up. "Insolent boy!" Lucius' hand struck out, smacking Draco across the face hard enough that it drew blood. A few vampires looked up, suddenly interested.
One of the vampires who had appeared to have been sleeping suddenly lifted his head and walked over, smiling. He wore a simple black cape, and his smile was predatory.
"Ah, Lucius, you've decided to show your boy around, then – give him the grand tour?"
"I figured it was time he learned what being a Malfoy meant," Lucius replied. "Draco, this is Dorian. He's 384 years old. He's part of the vampire council."
"Vampire council?" Draco asked, stretching out a shaking hand.
"He asks a lot of questions," Dorian said, arching an eyebrow.
"Vampire council?" Ms. Thatcher repeated.
"You'll see later on. It took me a while to realise that they were," Draco replied, shrugging.
"Draco, you'd do well to shut your mouth at times." Nodding, Draco stepped back so that he was in Lucius' shadow, and looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Father."
The scenery changed, and Draco was now several years older. He was sitting in the kitchen reading a book, although he put it down when his father walked into the room.
"I'm – I was eleven years old. It was the break for the holidays."
"How are you enjoying school, Draco?" Draco paused and the smile faded away.
"It's going well, I guess."
"I've heard otherwise." His cane tapped against the floor impatiently, and Draco flinched. Whatever was going to happen, Draco was expecting it. Lucius seemed to puff up slightly, and he loomed over Draco. "I heard you attempted to become Harry Potter's friend."
"Attempted and failed." He slunk back into his chair, seemingly trying to blend in to the wall.
"Even breaking my rules you fail. I told you that you were not to associate yourself with that boy. Not only did he refuse your friendship, but he beat you at Quidditch as well. He grew up with Muggles, never touching a single broom, and yet he still manages to beat you!"
Harry felt suddenly sympathy for the boy he had hated all through school. As arrogant as he may be, with a father like that, who could blame him? And the friendship he had rejected wasn't one Draco had attempted to make as his father's puppet. In fact, he had been trying to reach out to him despite his father's warnings. "Draco, I'm so sorry."
"I was a prick," the blond said, sighing. "Just watch."
"On top of that, you've been beaten by a Mudblood! It's fucking disgusting. You continually disappoint me." Draco was shuddered now, and he barely held back tears.
"I'm sorry, Father. I'll do better, but she's the teacher's favourite. I don't know whether I can –" He let a tears slip, and Lucius was immediately on him. His hand lashed out, and he hit Draco hard enough that he flung out of his chair and hit the wall. His lip and cheek were stained with blood, but the moment he picked himself up, Lucius was at him again, smacking him down onto the floor. Pulling out his wand, he muttered a spell Harry had never heard before, and more cuts formed on Draco's face.
"Malfoys do not cry nor do they get beaten – let alone by a Mudblood. Get up and go study."
"Dear Lord," Kingsley said, glancing down at Draco. Harry was stroking Draco's hair, trying to calm him. The blond had flinched with each blow as if he could still feel the sting, and his entire body was shaking. It was hard to do anything to keep him from shaking, but Harry held him, wishing that there was more that he could do. He felt so helpless, lost among Draco's memories.
"Love, I'm right here," Harry muttered, massaging the back of his neck. "That stuff is over. Your father's been caught, remember?" Draco nodded, although he still shuddered.
"That was the last time he hit me," he finally said so that everyone could hear.
The scene shifted again. He had grown since the past scene considerably. Again, he was reading, although this time he was curled up on his bed. His room was surprisingly simple. It held the basic materials and was decorated Slytherin green, but otherwise didn't stick out much. Even the bed, although big, wasn't adorned with any unnecessary frills. In his hands Draco held War and Peace. He seemed completely at ease until the door opened.
"Oh my..." So that was William. He was certainly a few years older. Harry would estimate about seventeen or eighteen. He couldn't help but notice that William certainly was handsome if you ignored the red eyes. His hair reached down to them, and it was spiked up and strewn as if messy. Harry could imagine it took a lot of effort to get it to look quite right. He leaned against the doorframe with a drunken smile. Merlin, Harry could understand why Draco had fallen for him. The boy was suave. But Draco, or, well, memory-Draco didn't seem to think so.
"I had just turned fifteen," Draco simply said.
Picking up his wand, Draco pointed it at the other boy. "Get away from me." His hand shook, and he was clearly afraid. With a step backwards, he grabbed a cross, and William hissed.
"I promise you I'm not going to hurt you."
"Right, like I'm going to believe a vampire who just comes prancing into my room." With a snort, Draco backed up into the corner of his room, clutching the cross to his chest.
"I'll do anything to make you believe me. Please. Just let me come in. I don't want to get caught. I'm not sure what they'll do to me."
"Trying to get my pity, now? It's not going to work." But this time Draco's voice was slightly softer.
"How about this – you use magic to tie me up, so you know I can't hurt you." Draco seemed to mull it over, then shrugged.
"Fine." Before William could say anything else, he fell to the ground, arms and legs tied by invisible cords. "So, what could you possibly want with me?" Draco asked, moving over to the bed. The cross was still clutched in his hand, and his wand was carefully placed beside him on the bed.
"You're my mate."
"What!" Ms. Thatcher suddenly sprung backwards. "Is that even possible to have two people chase after you?"
"I suppose," Draco muttered, looking sadly over at William. He clearly couldn't feel the same way – Harry was now his mate – but it didn't mean he didn't still feel something towards the vampire from his memories.
Again, everything became a swirl. They were sitting on the bed together talking. William slowly was edging his hand closer to Draco, but the blond didn't even notice. He was completely enraptured by what William was saying. The moment his fingers brushed against Draco even the slightest, he relaxed ever so slightly and grinned. Whatever he had been saying had just finished though because there was nothing but silence in the room. "So, what do you think?" William asked, bashfully looking away when Draco finally noticed his hand.
"I think it's brilliant. You should be a writer. You definitely have talent." Draco smiled, blushing as William's face lit up.
"You really think so? You're not just saying it to be nice?"
"I'd think you'd have known me long enough that I don't just say things to be nice. That sort of thing is idiotic." William looked absolutely satisfied with his mate's new approval, and settled down with a wide smile, lying back and looking up at the ceiling.
"You're not one to bullshit." For a moment it was quiet, and then Draco grabbed William's hand. William gasped and his eyes shot over to Draco, looking confused.
"I just wanted to thank you for not trying to push anything onto me. You've just talked to me these past two weeks."
"Two weeks and three days," William muttered automatically. Sighing he pulled himself up again. "I might need to stop coming, though. I've fed a few times –" Draco cringed at this "- but I don't know how long I'll be able to go without your blood. I don't want to hurt you. And as much as I'd hate to stop coming, I don't want to put you in any dangerous situations." He looked suddenly sad and weary, and as he placed his knees on the bed, propping his chin on them, he stared vacantly in front of him.
"You became quick friends with this vampire," Kingsley said. "Or perhaps it was more than a friendship that you two shared." Draco nodded. "What is his name? He looks familiar."
"William Press." Kingsley froze.
"Oh dear. His parents are quite influential. They sent a search party after their son, but they never found out what happened to him." Even Thatcher nodded her head gravely.
"I want you to bite me," Draco said after a pause. "You can fed off of me."
"No! It's dangerous. If I can't stop, it'll kill you." William shuddered, backing off of the bed. He looked horrified even at the suggestion.
"But you won't. I know you."
"I'm not the same person when I feed. Blood does something to me. I taste it and it's like nothing else matters." He shook his head. "No way." There seemed to be something else he wanted to add, but he let it drop.
"So, I care about you, and you're the only person I can really talk to. Even Pansy, Blaise, and Theo don't know as much about me as you do. I trust you. I know you. Please..." William shook his head, and Draco's fingers curled around his wand.
"No!" But before he could stop Draco, the blond had created a cut on his neck. Blood oozed out of it. William reached for his wand, but Draco held it firmly in his hands.
"What are you going to do now?" It was easy to tell that restraining himself was getting harder by the second. William's muscles twitched, and he could stare at nothing but the blood dripping down Draco's neck. While he was frozen, Draco moved forward, pressing his cut against William's lips. A snarl broke free from the vampire's mouth, and he pushed Draco back on the bed, sinking his teeth into his neck.
"You're mine, you hear. Mine!" At first Draco weakly cried out in pain. But the pain quickly changed to something else. His moans became obvious, and jerked his hips upward trying to find contact. The vampire took a few more sips and then pushed back, grabbing his wand and healing Draco's cut. Draco whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, and groggily looked up.
"You didn't kill me," he slurred.
"You idiot! I could have. How could you – I don't even know what I'd do if I hurt you, Draco! You can't do that to me. Oh, God, you need blood replenishing potion."
"Not to worry..." Draco reached over and pulled a vial out of the upper drawer.
"Were you planning this?" William asked in disgust as Draco gulped it down.
"I brewed it just in case. I have a few more in there. They're easy to make, and I wanted to make sure that in case you ever needed my blood I'd be able to offer you some." Snorting, William backed away, unsure what to say. But his pacing didn't last long. He pulled up to Draco, placing a hand on his knee.
"But why did you do it?"
"Because I care about you."
"I have to agree with William in that case. That was a rather risky move." Kingsley's brow crinkled, and he looked over at Harry and Draco. Harry felt nothing but jealousy. He knew that Draco now cared about him, but he had never had that kind of effect on the blond. They had talked, but he had never made Draco smile the same way William had. What they had now was pseudo-love, forced together only through the vampire bond. What Draco had with William was real.
"I'm sorry." Draco seemed to know what he was thinking. "I thought you had the right to see." Harry nodded.
They were still in Draco's room, although it was clear from the movement of a few things that time had passed. William was stretched out on the bed, eyes closed. He didn't seem to be asleep as his head was tilting from side to side slightly to the rhythm of a melody inside of his head. Draco, however, was propped up, staring at him intently. From his expression, it was clear he was debating whether or not to do something.
"This was six weeks after we had first met," Draco announced.
Swiftly he moved over so that he was straddling William. The vampire's eyes shot open and he gave Draco a curious look. "What are you –"
Before he could continue, Draco's lips were pressed against his. He moaned, flipping over so that he was on top. Roughly, he grabbed Draco's face and pressed his tongue through his lips. "Fuck..." He pulled back for a second before tasting Draco again, this time more carefully. His tongue traced the blond's lips and his hands moved through his hair. Draco thrust his hips up, grinding against him. If the burgeoning bulges in their pants were anything to go by, they were clearly enjoy it. William's hand reached down and he began to unbutton Draco's pants. With that movement, he pulled out of the kiss. Slowly he unbuttoned Draco's shirt as well, and placed a trail of kisses downward to –
Harry growled, and Draco wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him back. Turning him around, he looked into Harry's eyes. "Bite me." Harry bit down, making a soft mewling sound as the blood rushed into his mouth. Draco was his. Seeing him with William was beyond unbearable. His hands tightly gripped Draco, and he slowed down, pulling away before he could drink a suspicious amount. Kingsley and Thatcher were looking at them with eyebrows raised. Thatcher was blushing.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, wiping at his lips and glancing away. He hoped that wouldn't count against him.
"This next memory should be a few days later. It'll tell you more about the vampire council." Everything changed, but not before Harry could make out the blurred outline of William pulling down Draco's boxers.
"So, what exactly is the vampire council?" Draco asked. His head was now in William's lap, and the vampire stroked his hair. The smile that had been on his face faded slightly. "I know you don't like talking about them, but I just want to understand."
"No, no, I know. They're the group that governs the vampires."
"Oh, really? Thanks, I'd gathered that much." He laughed, and William eased slightly, brushing a finger against Draco's lips.
"Well, they're all extremely old, and they decide the fate of other vampires. If they deem a vampire to be strong enough, they'll let them live with them under the assumption that said vampire won't tell a soul about their existence. It's all a big secret, you know." It was Draco's turn for his expression to darken.
"So I've heard."
"Well, if they think you're weak, they hold you back. Like they restrain you. You get no blood, and you can't find your mate. It's why vampires have such a bad name. Those are the ones the world usually sees."
"But if they're restrained... I don't understand."
"Here, flip over," William said, and Draco went on his back. William straddled him, and his hands reached out, slowly massaging his back. "Well, they let them go. They unleash them onto the world only after the properly insane." William's laugh was bitter. "It's why I'm so lucky I have you. I'm fairly sure they would've done the same with me."
"They just release them?" Draco sounded disgusted. "But why don't they want the world to like them? If people saw what vampires really are..."
"They don't want them to because if they did they'd bother the council, probably try to break it up, if not send them to Azkaban for what they've done. By having the world focus on the others, they get left alone." William sighed and placed a kiss on Draco's neck. "I love you, you know."
Draco flipped over so that he was facing him. "I do know. And you know I love you too."
"No, but I mean I really love you. I'd love you even if I wasn't a vampire. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Draco. You're not only gorgeous, but you're clever and patient. You treat me like a human being." Draco smiled and leaned forward, kissing him in response.
"You two really were close, then?" Thatcher asked. Draco nodded. He was staring off somewhere else. Harry, on the other hand, was glaring angrily at the floor, his fists clenched. It had been real, all of that. Whether or not William had been a vampire – it didn't matter – because their love had been real. The way they spoke to each other was pure and sincere. Harry knew it because it was how he felt. It was remarkable how many similarities there were between the two of them. No wonder it had been so easy for Draco to simply switch them in his mind.
"This next one's going to be gruesome." He paused. "I don't know whether I can – Harry, hold me." He buried his head into Harry's chest. "Tell me when it's over. I've lived through it once like this and every night in my dreams. I don't need to relive it like this again." Harry wrapped his hand around Draco, cradling his head against his chest.
There was a knock at Draco's door. Lucius Malfoy opened it. "I thought I'd show you something. Perhaps it will show you what I truly meant if you ever told. I just thought I hadn't emphasised that in a while." Draco looked confused. "You've been slacking off, Draco."
"I have?"
"You've been staying in your room all day moping about. I thought I should show you what happens to rejects like you." He moved out of the room, and Draco followed, looking slightly concerned. When they paused in front of the basement, he tensed.
"I thought I'd show you how vampires deal with the weak." With that he opened the door to reveal William bent over, sobbing in pain. His hands and feet were tied together, and he limply lay against the floor, blood seeping from his wounds. "Draco, this is William." Shaking his head, he backed up against the door, which had closed in the meantime. He mouthed 'no' over and over again, and tears formed in his eyes.
Dorian stood above William, twirling his wand. "We thought he'd be interesting for you to see because, you are, in fact his mate. You know what a mate is, don't you?"
"Of course he does! You think I taught him nothing?" Lucius said, sneering. Dorian bowed.
"My apologies."
"Draco," William gurgled out, spitting some blood. He looked up at Draco with nothing but fear in his eyes. "Help me." Draco lunged forward, but Lucius grabbed him.
"Let me go," he struggled – to no avail – against his father's grip and glared up at Dorian. "You monster. You're fucking low. You can't even fight like a decent human being. You have to tie him up before you can do anything." Dorian's eyes turned to slits.
"He's feisty, Lucius, and I don't know if I like it." Lucius grunted, unable to say much with Draco fighting him. "Here's how we deal with our kind." With that he drew his wand against William's back, and a deep cut formed where it had been. William screamed out in pain.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Thatcher muttered, and she leaned sat down, clutching her stomach. Harry felt Draco quaking beneath him, whimpering with each sound that William released. Harry could barely stand what he was seeing. Their methods reminded him of Bellatrix Lestrange. He could see the way Dorian's face twisted in pleasure with each sound of pain coming from William. Harry shuddered.
Dorian pulled William up, and pushed him backwards. There was the sound of breaking ribs, and William fell to the floor again, limp as a rag doll. He was barely conscious. "Did you bring the cross?" Dorian asked, stepping backwards. Lucius nodded. "Let me take that boy from you."
"William!" Draco screeched. But the moment he was in Dorian's grip, he knew that he had an even smaller chance of escaping. His grip was tight, and he almost looked bored holding him back.
"How do you like that, William – another vampire is touching your mate." William growled, weakly trying to pull himself up, but only squealing in pain when the ribs crunched. He fell forward, and swallowed heavily. Draco was sobbing. Lucius leaned forward, a cross in his hand, and pressed it against William's back. There was the sound of sizzling flesh as William once again burst into life, writhing and screaming. Draco's screams served as echoes.
"Please, Father. Stop. Please," Draco babbled, but Lucius was deaf. He continued to press it down, smirking as the skin bubbled around it. When he finally pulled it back, the shape of a bleeding cross took form. William was wheezing now, and he barely had the energy to lift his head. Lucius went back in his place, restraining Draco, and Dorian again loomed over William.
"Draco, please." The wheezing sound escaped William's lips as a whisper. "I love you." Then Dorian's hands reached down, grabbing William's neck in one swift movement, and ripping it off. For a moment, it rolled on the floor, staring sightlessly at Draco, and then crumpled to dust.
"No!" Draco finally broke free of his father, his voice breaking. When he hit the floor, he scratched at it as if William were going to be hidden underneath, ready to surprise him. His fingers suddenly became mauled open hitting the concrete, and he felt them snap. Despite the pain he kept going, ignoring Dorian's hiss of breath. "Oh, God." With that, Draco threw up.
Harry barely could stand upright. He felt sick. Thatcher had curled up, and still held her stomach, but the both of them were crying. Kingsley, whom Harry had never seen cry, clenched his fists and used his sleeve to wipe his red eyes.
"Draco, it's over," Harry said, his voice sounding detached. Draco turned around and crumpled onto the floor. Sitting there shaking, he stared blankly as they were pulled out of the Pensive, reaching out toward his fifteen year-old self and sobbing quietly.